All I've Never Wanted (9 page)

The events of the last week sped through his mind like a tape on repeat rewind, flying by faster and faster until he felt like his head was about to explode.

"Agh!" Bolting upright, he flung his pillow across the room, where it hit the wall with a dull thud before sliding to the floor. Unfortunately, the pillow-throwing did nothing to alleviate his inner turmoil.

Roman scowled. "Stupid, stupid girl…" he muttered under his breath. "Stupid Adriana. Stupid Stan Hoffman…if he hadn't thrown that party, none of this would have happened…" He was quite aware of how ridiculous he sounded, but no one else was here, so who gave a fuck?

However, despite himself, Roman couldn't help but possess a burning curiosity about Maya. He hadn't bothered to really learn much about her, but now, for some reason, he wanted to know more. How did this girl, who had managed to slip past not just his but all of his friends' radars for so long, manage to withstand what had broken so many others in the past? Her resilience both frustrated and intrigued him.

He hadn't been in this much emotional turmoil since…well, ever. He really needed to get the damn girl off his mind, though he had a sneaking suspicion it would not be easy.

Roman narrowed his eyes as he went over his possible courses of action.

After deliberating for a few minutes, he grabbed his phone from his nightstand and scrolled through his phonebook until he came to the right number.

The phone rang only once before Richard, his father’s third assistant and his occasional personal assistant, picked up.

"It's me," Roman said, not bothering with niceties as he slid off his bed and walked over to the dresser mirror. He stared at his reflection. Was it just his imagination, or was there still the slightest hint of pink on his cheek? "Listen, I need you to get some information for me…”

*              *              *

He didn't seem to be coming after me. I glanced cautiously over my shoulder, but I didn't see a Ferrari attempting to run me over, and it had already been fifteen minutes.

Even though Roman was probably scheming up another plan to make my life more of a hell than it already was, at least he wasn't chasing me down. I'm not slow or anything, but I can't outrun an Italian sports car. Hell, even Usain Bolt can't outrun that Ferrari.

With a sigh, I trudged down the sidewalk, though I was unable to stop myself from gawking at the glimpses of huge mansions hidden by thick, lush shrubbery and tall iron gates. I was willing to bet none of them could rival the Fioris' massive estate. It may house the devil himself in that opulent interior, but it had all the trappings of a paradise on earth. When Roman had pulled inside the gates, it was all I could do not to gasp out loud at the sheer luxury of it all. The main house itself could put Versailles to shame.

I shook my head slightly.

I couldn’t believe arrogant twits like Roman got to lounge around their mansions and fly their private jets to ridiculously expensive locales where they did the exact same things they do at home—shop, party and turn their noses up at those less fortunate than themselves—when there were people starving out there.

There is no justice in the world.

Something rustled in a nearby bush, and I jumped nearly ten feet in the air. I stared at the bush warily until a furry brown squirrel hopped out, bushy tail sticking straight up. It stopped and stared at me for a second before scuttling up the trunk of a nearby tree.

I let out the breath I had been holding and laughed. God, I was paranoid, but it was getting dark, and I had never been to this area before. I wasn't even sure how to get home.

My smile morphed into a grimace as I stared forlornly at my broken phone. I'd tried to put it back together after leaving the Fiori residence, but it wouldn’t work. Valesca was as safe as a town could possibly be, but that didn't mean I was ok with wandering the streets at night with no means of communication. Besides, my mom would 
flip.

Having resolved to phone home at the nearest pay phone, I had just resumed walking when I saw a car coming my way from down the otherwise empty road. I immediately stiffened. The black Range Rover looked awfully familiar…

It slowed to a stop next to me, and the windows lowered to reveal the handsome face of Carlo Tevasco.

I let out a groan. Are you freaking kidding me? Was today Harass Maya With Your Car day?

"Hey."

I eyed him suspiciously. "Hi…"

"What are you doing here?" His voice was surprisingly low and gentle.

"Walking," I answered blithely.

He raised his eyebrows. "I can see that." Then his eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't tell me you just came from Roman's house."

I didn't say anything.

Carlo laughed softly, his expression one of amusement and something else I couldn't place.

"Are you planning to walk all the way home?"

"Yes." I tilted my chin up. "It's good exercise."

"And a good way to get killed."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, the probability of me getting bludgeoned to death with a designer stiletto is pretty high at this time, given my current social status." I pursed my lips. "Shouldn't you be yelling insults at me right now? After all, I did offend your good buddy Roman." My voice dripped with sarcasm.

Carlo shrugged his broad shoulders. "It's not like he didn't deserve it." His mouth quirked up into a smile at my shocked expression. "Don't look so surprised. He's my friend, which means I'm well aware of both his strengths and weaknesses."

"Strengths?" I snorted. "
I 
wasn't aware he had any."

"Yeah, well, I guess it's all relative," Carlo said rather amiably.

I cocked my head to one side as I studied him. Now that I looked more closely, he really wasn't as intimidating-looking as I'd once thought, unless you count how intimidatingly good-looking he was. His thick, wavy black hair just reached the top of his collar, framing a strong, masculine face with thick dark brows set above fathomless ebony eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and smooth olive skin. Despite the overwhelming masculinity of his appearance though, there was a touch of vulnerability that I couldn't quite put my finger on, which softened his entire look in the best way possible.

"Are you done staring at me?" Carlo's tone was wry.

I flushed. "I wasn't staring at you," I lied crossly.

"Right." He shot me a skeptical look but didn't say anything else. Instead, he looked me over, and with a sigh, said, "I'm taking you home."

"No you're not," I replied almost involuntarily. I couldn't help it—it was a knee-jerk response. Part of me still couldn't quite believe I was having a civil conversation with a Scion. I was half-convinced I was going to wake up in my bed any minute now.

Carlo draped one arm over the open window and eyed me. "I don't usually do charity cases, but you've been through more than enough already. I really don't want to hear about you getting kidnapped or raped on the news."

"What are the chances of that happening?" I demanded, bristling a bit at the term 'charity case.' I was nobody's charity case. Nevertheless, a shiver of unease went down my spine. Call me superstitious, but now I was a little afraid something 
was 
going to happen just because I voiced my opinion that it wouldn't.

Carlo shrugged. "You never know. Valesca's pretty safe, but it's dark, you're a pretty girl walking alone, and there's some crazy people out there." As if to punctuate his point, a dog howled somewhere in the background, the sound echoing eerily in the otherwise silent neighborhood.

I nearly shot into the passenger seat. "Fine, I give in," I said, buckling my seatbelt. "You can take me home."

He looked at me incredulously. "Only you would be able to make it sound like you're doing 
me 
a favor," he chortled, making a sharp U-turn that threw me against the passenger door.

"Ow," I complained. "The reason I got in was so I wouldn't get killed, you know."

"Sorry. So where do you live?"

I gave him my address, and we settled into a comfortable silence as he navigated the pristine streets.

As I stared out the window at the passing scenery, I was surprised that I really 
was 
comfortable. I had never spoken to Carlo Tevasco in my life before today, and I'd never had any desire to, but my vibes about people were generally pretty accurate. I could tell Carlo had been genuine the entire time we'd been talking, and he was a lot nicer than I thought any Scion could be. Plus, he had a sense of humor, which was always a plus.

"So, were you on your way to visit…him?" I asked, trying to utter the devil's name as few times as possible.

"No, I live there."

"Oh." I blinked. "That makes sense." Perfect sense. The area where Roman and Carlo lived was the most expensive part of town. 
Of course 
the Scions lived there.

"What type of music do you listen to?" Carlo fiddled with the radio.

"Any kind, except for country." I wrinkled my nose a little. "There are very few country songs I like."

"So which ones 
do 
you like?" He sounded curious.

I shifted in my seat. "Um…some Taylor Swift and Carrie Underwood songs," I mumbled.

Carlo laughed. "Never figured you to be the type of girl who listened to Taylor Swift."

I arched one eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"I got the impression you were one tough cookie. I expected you to say heavy metal or rock."

I rolled my eyes. "Way to stereotype. Besides, do I look like a rocker to you?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes stereotypes make things a lot easier." His voice was wistful.

I was about to ask him what he meant when he abruptly changed the subject. "You know, you’re a lot nicer than I thought you’d be. How’d you manage to stay under the radar for so long?”

I actually laughed aloud at that one.
I
was nicer than he expected? More like he was nicer than I expected.

"Thanks…I think," I answered wryly. Feeling compelled to say something nice back, I added, "You're not as surly as I thought you were."

Another smile softened his face even more. "Thanks…I think." His tone matched mine. "I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m not a nice guy.”

"Well, for one, you barely talk in school," I pointed out. "Plus, look at who you hang out with."

"My friends are good guys. Yes, even Roman," he added at the look on my face. "In their own ways. But—" He abruptly stopped.

"But?" I prompted. I was becoming more and more comfortable around him, especially since he was one of the few people who had been even remotely nice to me this week.

"Nothing," he muttered, staring at the road straight ahead. "I already said too much."

Too much? He'd barely said anything past the superficial. 
Guys are just weird, 
I reflected. Still, the mood in the car was comforting, and I could feel myself sinking against the plush leather seat, some of the tension knots in my shoulders relaxing a little.

"Besides, you didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

Carlo stopped at a red light, and he turned to face me, the streetlight casting a faint crimson glow over his sculpted features. "How'd you manage to stay under the radar for so long?"

I shrugged. "Lots of practice and determination. Last thing I needed was to be thrust into the spotlight here."