Edited by Stilldreaming85 and Banshee69
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Isabella Cullen.
"You have to stop acting like this, you know? You're not doing anyone any favors, not even yourself," Garrett said.
"Acting like what?" I asked. "I'm not doing anything. I haven't done anything."
Days had passed since Edward had decided to come home. I had not uttered a single word to him since our so-called talk that night, because really, what could I have to say to him?
Edward had been true to his word though, he was letting me come and go as I pleased. Although Garrett had always been a step behind me and I knew there was someone a step behind him. I was grateful that Edward had kept his promise, even though I could see the distress behind his eyes every time I walked out the door. I'm sure, no, I know he hated this, hated that he was allowing this, but he never voiced it.
I should have been happy that I could come and go as I pleased, even at one in the morning. I should be happy that here, of all places, I had some sort of freedom. Then again what was the point of freedom if it was only me? I had no friends, no one that I could really talk with, sure there was Garrett, but Garrett wasn't a friend. He was only with me because it was the job Edward had assigned him to do. Nevertheless, I did appreciate his company and that he was not as silent with me as he had been before, I don't think I could have handled that.
"Look, I know none of this is ideal," he said.
"Which part exactly?" I questioned with a raised brow, my voice not bothering to hide its sarcasm.
"Don't get smart with me here. I'm trying to help you."
He was trying to help me. He had been doing his best and I was just being stubborn. If it weren't for Garrett, I would probably still be sitting at home, just because I could, just to piss Edward off. Just because I did not want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that the freedom he had offered me meant far more than I had expected.
"The women in your role, they're tough. They look pretty, harmless, even, but they could slice your throat open with their nails before you could blink twice."
"Are you trying to make me feel better, Garrett? It's not working."
"I'm trying to get you to understand how things work." He sighed. I think he felt that he was fighting a losing battle with me.
"Well then, by your logic, I should go out and whack a few people off for the sole purpose of making Edward happy?"
"You're missing the point here," he said, pushing his coffee cup away.
"And what point is that?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest. I was well aware I was acting like a brat, but there were many things Garrett and I did not see eye-to-eye on, Edward was one of them.
Garrett put his elbows on the table and leaned his head as close to me as he could. "You're a mafia Don's wife, regardless if you want to be or not, you are. He's not hiding you away either, which I think he's playing with fire right there, but he knows what he's doing. For appearances sake in front of everyone you need to be strong and show that you are. Behind closed doors, you can do what you want, be who you want, and even hate him if you want. But the front you put on needs to be united. You need to show that no matter what, you are by his side and if need be, you'll pull a trigger to protect or defend him," he said.
"Why are you telling me this? What's it to you? What do you get out of it? He hurt you. Look what he did to your arm, and yet you're still here working for him, helping him. Why?" I asked.
Why was Garrett doing any of this? What did it matter if Edward and I showed a united front? There were so many things about this life, Edward's life, I didn't understand. It wasn't as if Edward was willing to explain any of it to me, but to be fair, I never asked any questions either.
"I can't walk away, Isabella, it's not that simple, and I don't want to, but even if I did, there's no way out, only with a bullet in the head."
"That's not fair," I said.
"This is the life I chose to live. These are the decisions I've made and I have no regrets.
I knew what I was getting myself into. No one forced me, no one held a gun to my head. And you know what, if I had do it all over again, I would make the same choice."
"Even though your boss is an asshole who stabbed you, scared you and lord knows what else he did to you that you're not telling me?"
"Yes!"
"That's it? Yes? That's all you got?" I asked, staring at him, trying to figure him out.
Garrett was hard to understand at the best of times. With James it was easy, he had a motive, a reason to become a part of this life, but Garrett?
Garrett was the same as James had been. He didn't come into the mafia from blood, he wasn't family and he had no connections. I wasn't even sure Garrett had any Italian heritage at all, or if he even spoke the language.
Everyone had a reason, that's what Anthony always said. No one ever did anything just because, there was always a reason, a deeper story.
"I don't have an interesting backstory like most of those who join out of the family. I'm not looking for anyone, I didn't even have a troubled childhood, it was pretty good in fact, but that didn't mean I wasn't curious."
"You joined the mafia out of curiosity?" I asked, maybe a little louder than I had intended to. The few people that were seated close to us turned to stare, but they quickly averted their gaze with one look from Garrett.
"That's just stupid, idiotic even," I said. "What did you think you would find them doing? Trading girl scout cookies?"
He threw his head back laughing. "You're priceless, you know that."
"I'm glad I amuse you."
"Are you ready to go?" He asked, looking down at my empty coffee cup.
"Yeah."
As we made our way outside of the cafe, something, someone caught my eye.
Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe it was my mind playing tricks on me.
New York had a rather large population for such a small perimeter. The city always offered a sense of deja vu. You could be walking down the street and see someone going in the opposite direction as you and swear that you had seen the same person only five minutes prior standing right next to you only in different clothing. Although this wasn't one of those situations. No, it couldn't be.
The person that had walked past me bared too much of a resemblance to my only friend. The same bright eyes that stood out against his lashes. This person even had the same distinct smell that Michael had, a crisp and clean cologne.
"Hey," Garrett said, tugging at my arm.
Please turn back and look at me, my mind screamed. I had to know, I had to be certain it was not Michael. Even though deep down I was hoping it wasn't Michael, not after what Edward had…
Yet a small part of me did want to see him, at least one last time.
As if the person in front of me had heard my silent request, he turned his head around in my direction.
My body became frozen in its place and my heart sank.
It was Michael staring back at me. A bright and beautiful smile lit his face as he came toward me.
From the corner of my eye I saw Garrett's hand reach into his jacket. With his other hand, he tugged roughly at my arm trying with all his effort to pull me away.
"Stop it," I said. "I know him."
"Which is why we need to leave. You're suppose to be dead, remember?"
"I know him from Sicily. Let go of me." I pulled my arm out of his grasp as soon as he loosened his hold on me. "He doesn't know anything. He's just a friend."
"Shit! You know I can't let you do this. He's going to fucking kill the both of us if he finds out," Garrett stressed.
"Then don't tell him. He doesn't need to know every single, little thing. Do you report to him how many times a day I go to the bathroom? Are you monitoring that as well?" I asked, giving him a slight shove.
Garrett looked toward Michael and all around him at the same time. I knew that look. I knew what he was doing. He was sizing Michael up, looking for any threat or danger.
"Look at me," he said roughly. "You have two minutes and that's it."
I ignored him and took the few steps towards Michael, who did not appear bothered by the murderous looking man standing behind me on my left.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. New York was the last place I even expected to see Michael, not that I was expecting to ever see him again.
"My work transferred me here," he said with his smooth Irish accent, that I'll admit, I had missed. "I tried to call you before my departure, but I could not get a hold of you. Are you alright?" He asked, taking that one small step where he invaded my personal space.
"I'm...I'm fine," I said, offering him what I hoped looked like a reassuring smile. "It's good to see you again."
"It's good to see you too, Isabella. I was worried about you. I see your husband has you...guarded." He chuckled, throwing an amused glance in Garrett's direction.
"There's no reason to worry about me. I'm fine. Perfectly fine." I lied. I was anything but fine. "It was good to see you again Michael," I said, knowing that my time had to be almost up. I didn't want Garrett coming anywhere near Michael. I didn't want him to get hurt because of me.
"Wait," he said, grabbing a hold of my hand. I felt him slip something into my palm as he leaned in closer and placed a lingering kiss on my cheek.
"I want to see you again," he whispered in my ear. His warm breath sent goosebumps up and down my arms, my back. I hated myself for that.
I wasn't able to utter a single word. I felt as if my voice had been lost. I nodded my response like a fool. Like an idiot I had silently agreed to his request, even though I knew it would be impossible.
Michael gave me one last longing look, it was as if he was silently pleading with me, before he turned on his heel and left.
Garrett wasted no time pulling me off the sidewalk and he wasn't gentle about it either.
He pushed me into the backseat of the waiting car and climbed in after me. Someone else was driving. This was someone I had never seen before. I had been right, there was someone else trailing after Garrett and me.
Garrett made sure the privacy screen was rolled up before he turned his body in my direction.
"What the fuck was that?!" He asked, no, he yelled.
"I didn't do anything." I defended.
"How could you have been so stupid as to tell him your real name?"
"What are you talking about? He knows me as Marie. I would never tell him my real name. I haven't told anyone."
"Then why did he call you Isabella?"
"He...did...he didn't call me Isabella," I said. Michael didn't call me Isabella, he couldn't, he doesn't know my real name I had never let it slip I was certain.
"You're not only stupid, you're deaf as well. He called you Isabella. Fucking Isabella, not Marie."
"I'm not stupid!" I yelled in his face. My eyes were burning with angry tears that I didn't want to let escape. "And I'm sure as hell not deaf. Though you seem to be, or you're fucking hearing things. You're trying to make something out of nothing so you can have a good story to go back and tell your boss, what his little wife did today."
"What's in your hand? What did he give you?" He asked, not at all affected by my outburst.
The small piece of paper in my hand suddenly felt as if it weighed a ton. I knew what Michael had to have given me and there was no way I was about to hand it over to Garrett.
"I don't have anything in hand," I said, bringing my hands in between my thighs. I knew there would be no way Garrett would try and pull my hands out from there, not if he valued his life.
He sighed as he shook his head and let out a soft chuckle, although there was no humor behind it.
"You're playing with fire, Isabella, and when you play with fire it will only be a matter of time until you get burned."
"You're not going to tell him. You told me you wouldn't."
"I never said that. I have to tell him, and if I don't, Vito in front will."