Chapter 33
SILAS
“You drove me across the city for a street hot dog?”
Leonore looks at the hot dog in her hand like I’ve handed her a live grenade.
“And the best coffee in town.” I hand her the takeaway cup with Gooma the Coffee Guru printed on the side. “You’re welcome.”
She mumbles something about ten thousand dollars under her breath as she takes the cup, and I fight the smile. She eyes it with the suspicion of a woman who has very high coffee standards, or perhaps it’s more the company she’s still disgruntled about.
“If this is terrible, I’m never trusting you again,” she says, her eyes sparkling in the silvery dawn.
“If this is terrible, I’ll let you hold the scalpel to my throat next time,” I say.
“I don’t need your permission for that. It takes the fun away from the spontaneity,” she deadpans, and I can’t hide my smile that I’m so often used to masking. She stares at me, but when she notices my gaze, she immediately looks at the hot dog in front of her.
I watch as she takes a sip of coffee. Her eyes close, and the sound she makes is somewhere between a sigh and a moan, which goes straight to my cock.
“Okay.” She moans again. “That’s incredible.”
“Told you. Gooma the Coffee Guru knows what he’s doing.”
She takes another sip, and I watch her. I rarely do anything that’s not surrounded by my business, but I’ve found myself wanting to uncover more about this woman.
My status, my wealth, and the fact that I run the city’s biggest crime syndicate doesn’t impress her.
In fact, I can count on more than one hand the number of times she’s snubbed me for it.
But give her a good cup of coffee, and she’s moaning like my face is buried in her pussy and she’s about to come.
Which I have every intention of doing later.
“If you think that’s good, try the hot dog.”
She bites into the hot dog. “Fuck.” She takes another big mouthful, and there is no self-consciousness or pretense of manners or politeness. Ketchup and mustard slide across her lips. I’m smiling because I suspect she’s purposely trying to eat messily in spite of me.
We find a bench facing the water. The waterfront is empty at this hour, but it won’t be long before morning joggers make their way down to the water.
Leonore tucks her legs beneath her on the bench, and in the pale light, she looks softer. As if I can see through a crack in her armor. My obsession is taking hold because now all I think about is her.
I want to kiss her.
Hell, I want to kiss her a lot.
Even when she’s not around, I find myself thinking about it.
Which is fucking confusing. I’m not in the habit of bringing women to my favorite coffee and hot dog cart at dawn just because I like the way I feel when I’m around her.
I certainly don’t pay women ten thousand dollars to give me attention, but if anything, it entices me more because she’s the only one ballsy enough to request it.
Sex has always been an uncomplicated exchange of mutual pleasure and nothing more, but since my sister’s interference and intrigue, I realize I’m royally fucked. If my sister and the men are becoming curious about Leonore, it shows that I’m not even conspicuous anymore.
My cock twitches when she wraps her mouth around the hot dog for another bite, purposely ripping it away like a savage and giving me a pointed look. I could watch her all day, and now that I have the time for it, maybe I will.
But I have to be careful with Leonore. One moment, she is here, and the next, I can tell she’s vaulted behind her secrets.
Behind the fake name. Hiding whoever she really is.
And God help me, I’m desperate to find out everything.
At other times, I provoke her so much that her inner psycho comes out. My cock jumps again at the thought.
More, I need to know more.
I watch as she licks the ketchup and mustard from her fingertips.
The sky is getting lighter, and a band of gold breaches above the skyline. I don’t often go out of my way for such things, and I imagine Leonore is the same. Our place lies in the darkness.
“It’s beautiful,” Leonore says, watching the sunrise. “How did you find this place?”
“Before my sister met her husband, her deadshit boyfriend at the time broke up with her. When I picked her up, she was walking along here holding her heels, mascara running down her face. We stumbled across this, and I sat on this very bench with her, having to listen to her sob over the dipshit who found himself in a grave twenty-four hours later. Though they do make good coffee and hot dogs.”
Leonore gives me a look. “Does your sister know?”
My lip curves up. “She still thinks I threatened to kill them. She never looked much into the fact that they all suddenly left town.”
Leonore shakes her head, though she seems unsurprised. “She probably knows.”
I lean back. “Well, from what I’ve heard, her and my men gossip, so probably.”
She laughs then, wiping her mouth again. I like the sound of her laugh; it’s rare.
“Careful, Silas, you almost sound like a person,” she says as she leans back, kicking her boots back and forth.
It’s strange in the sense this feels like a twilight zone, but after everything that went down with the Nero family, it’s refreshing.
“I don’t want to hear that from someone who’s been given the reputation Grim Reaper.”
She casually shrugs. “Did you know that in multiple cultures, the Grim Reaper is a woman? Besides, I don’t care what the families call me. As long as they hand me the cash and don’t cause me any trouble, they’ll never have to find out.”
“Like the client this morning?”
Her lips curve into a ruthless smile. It’s far from friendly; it’s savage and takes pleasure in the fact.
“Oh, I think he found out. Still, it’s strange to think of you as the head of the Vescari crew, casually sitting here eating hot dogs and drinking coffee from a paper cup.
I thought you were all expensive cars and custom suits with men who did everything for you. ”
“I don’t need anyone to wipe my ass. My men are selected for their abilities.”
“You must choose well because from what I’ve heard, your men are very loyal.”
“My men are family. Not blood, necessarily. But family in the sense that every man in my organization knows he belongs to something bigger than himself. Something that will protect him.” I take a bite of my hot dog and chew slowly, thinking about the Nero crew, because that was their downfall.
I can’t stand those who have no loyalty.
“A man who fights for family fights harder than a man who fights for a paycheck.”
“I don’t think fighting for a paycheck is so bad.” She casually shrugs. When I look at her, she’s still watching the sunrise. Her voice lingers, that distance remaining—secrets hiding in the shadow of her gaze.
“Tell me about your family,” I say.
But the shift in her is instant. It’s like a robbery is in progress, all the security panels just flew up around her, and she’s immediately closed off.
“Nothing you need to know,” she says with an edge of venom. But I remain silent, and when she looks at me, she lets out an exhausted breath. “Nessa and Larissa are my family. Well, they were.”
“What do you mean they were?”
She turns back to the sun breaking over the skyline. “The truth is, I don’t know where we stand. I love Larissa like she’s my own and Nessa like a sister. But her being with Ben is problematic, and I’m sick of picking up the pieces.”
For most people, I would advise to cut ties. It’s the most efficient, but I suspect that they genuinely are her family here in Boston.
“What about your parents?” I feel the frosty wall erect between us.
“Let’s not talk about them either.”
“No boyfriend or husband I should know about?”
She brings her gaze back to me. But she doesn’t say anything, and I can see the cogs working behind her eyes.
Most likely as to whether she will run. Yet I love it when she runs, because it means I can chase her again.
Fuck me, I wonder what my sister would say if she heard my inner thoughts.
Most likely laugh and call me pussy-whipped.
“No,” she says finally.
I know when I’ve pressed her too much. This is the most she’s shared with me, well, ever, and I have to take my time creating hairline fractures in her armor.
I let it go because pushing her will only drive her further behind those walls.
But I know one thing for sure. She’s hiding something. And it’s something she can’t bring herself to think about because I saw the fear enter her eyes when I asked the question.
I will find out what it is.
My sister’s words ring through about “wine and dine,” shifting it from just sexual. Is that what I want with Leonore? I can’t stay away from her and only want to learn more about her.
“Have dinner with me.”
She looks at me. “We’re literally eating right now, which by the way, you haven’t paid in full yet.”
“I’m talking about a proper date. Tonight, you and me and somewhere ridiculously decadent. You’ve given me your sunrise, now give me your sunset.”
Her gaze narrows on me, those dark circles beneath her eyes harrowing against sharp cheekbones. She’s internally fighting with herself. I can see it in her gaze.
She lifts an eyebrow. “What were you thinking?”
I can’t help the smirk. It looks like the black cat is becoming more curious.
“Dinner at The Sage Leaf.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Reservations there are impossible to get.”
“And I am an expert at making the impossible possible.”
“Does that involve a body coming across my table?”
“Only if they don’t play nice. I can be a reasonable man, Doc.”
She scoffs into her coffee as she takes a sip but finally says, with a tone as if she’s granting me a favor, “Fine, I’ll let you wine and dine me at The Sage Leaf if you insist, but only because of the food. I heard it’s the best in town.”
“And then afterward, I plan on filling your cunt with my cock for dessert. I can also be very charming—”
“Which is debatable.”
“And make sure that you can’t walk or speak with how tightly I pin you down by your throat.”
Her eyes widen for just a split second before the small smile plays on her luscious lips. “Careful what you wish for. Maybe I won’t play nice.”
My cock jumps. I’m betting on it.
Her amusement softens, and she reaches over and swipes her thumb across my chin.
“The savage killer has food on his face.” She holds up her thumb and then slides it between her plush lips, slowly sucking ketchup from the tip. I watch, mesmerized, knowing she’s intentionally teasing me, especially when she makes a popping noise with her lips. “Very intimidating.”
Her gaze dances with mischief.
And that’s when it hits me like a fucking bullet.
This is beyond obsession. This is the fucking need to claim her as mine.