Chapter 6
Tristano
This woman is poison.
My cock is rock hard, staring up at me from the seam of my pants as I’m tasked with dragging her to my fucking house . I can’t help but sniff my collar when she’s not looking. Her scent is on me. Some faint perfume mixed with her sweat that’s making my entire body remain on high alert.
There’s something about being hopped up after a kill.
I imagine it like the olden times or something.
War. Maybe the Spartans felt this way after murdering Persians – not like in history when they fucked each other afterward, but like the movie when they came home from battle to lay with their wives. Blood never quite runs as hot.
And this woman is denying me, after I saved her.
“C’mon,” I growl.
“Trino,” her voice cracks with sympathy, as if she didn’t cause this mood of mine.
“Stop making noise. Let’s get to my car first.” I look both ways at the tail end of the driveway to the row of houses I recall when I parked. Should be just off to the left. “Did ‘Gil’ text you back? With a name like that, I doubt he’d be reliable in crises.”
She checks her phone, and while she does, I can’t help but notice the blotchy red marks on her tanned chest. Good to know she wanted me all along at least. But my God , what a prude goody-goody. Can’t stand it. Thinks she’s better than me because I like to spend time at one of my businesses.
Fuck.
Off.
Once we get to the sidewalk unseen, we’re just normal pedestrians. I beckon her to catch up and hook my arm for appearances. I hate that there’s volcanic levels of chemistry between us. I wanna tear her head off as much as I want to spread her legs apart and show her what she’s missing.
I beep open my brand-new black BMW M3, waiting for a reaction. Hmph. She doesn’t even flinch. Usually it’s a ‘Damn, Tris,’ or ‘Oh my God,’ but she just keeps bashfully eyeing me. Now I’m even more annoyed.
“Get in, bug.”
“I don’t very much like this new nickname,” she scoffs.
“Shouldn’t have told me that.”
The red leather seats are scorching from sitting in the sun. It doesn’t bother me because I’m not a pussy, but I do take pleasure in her yelping like a stupid puppy when she sits in the passenger’s seat. I turn away to hide my smirk.
“Well, did he respond?” I ask, pulling a screeching U-turn down the block.
“He said it’s done.” She holds onto the side panel dramatically. “Can you not kill us on our first hour together, Toretto? Jeez. What are you trying to prove, anyway? All you’re going to do driving like a maniac is alert the neighbors that something is up.”
I grit my teeth. She has a point.
Blue balls just makes me angry. I’m swearing off this broad right now. I’ll do what I have to for appearances… to make Pop happy in his dying years. But that’s all this is. An arrangement.
“What are you doing? Didn’t we just trespass in my neighbors’ yard to get away from my house?” She puts a hand to her heart when I slow down at the end of the block.
“Are you going to act like Miss Shakespeare this entire ride?”
“Soon-to-be Missus.”
I groan.
“So… what the hell are we doing, Trino?”
“Checking to see if the coast is clear for my father.” I hang a right, preparing for the stop sign so I can peek down Capri’s street. Flashing lights with no siren circle up ahead. Two cops are ringing the bell of Capri’s neighbors.
I pick up my burner phone and dial my father.
“Yo,” his voice rattles.
“Yeah. Sonny’s boys scattered. As soon as the lights dim, get moving.” I squint to make sure I have the details right.
“Copy. Hey—”
“What?” I can already feel what’s coming by the tone in his voice.
“You and your new fiancée getting along?”
I hang up the phone and step on the gas again, evoking another yelp that makes me want to put a piece of tape over her mouth.
“Aren’t you supposed to protect me?” Capri fidgets in her seat. “Slow down .”
I cackle. “What’s the point of having a twin-turbo engine if I’m just going to putter around like a little pink-nosed accountant?”
“I’m a lawyer, actually.”
“Same shit. White-collar goody-goody. Sit behind a desk, pretend you’re being useful, while in reality, you’re just riding on the coattails of the real moneymakers.”
She frowns at me. “I liked you better when I thought you were a meathead.”
“Yeah, because you just like to hear yourself yap. Fuckin’ lawyer.”
“Well, what do you do with yourself, Mister High-and-mighty, besides strangle people with a little piece of string?”
I glare at her, and she cowers.
“Sorry. Shouldn’t have said that. Not being ungrateful,” her tone softens a bit. “Oh, and—uh—about before.”
“Not in the mood.” My chest grows hot with annoyance.
“Well, in this relationship, we’re going to speak our feelings. Otherwise we’ll grow to be a resentful old couple, like the grandparents in Everybody Loves Raymond —”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Capri clears her throat. “—as I was saying. I didn’t mean to shit on your lifestyle before, in my neighbors’ backyard. It’s none of my business what you like to do with your time.”
“Damn straight.”
She sighs at me. “Well, don’t you have anything to say?”
My eye twitches. “You’re welcome.”
She crosses her legs and folds her arms like she just closed up her business. Good. Finally, some peace and quiet.
We drive for five minutes before a strange feeling tugs at my chest. The fuck is this? Guilt? Is she upset I tried to kiss her when we were getting hot before? What’s the big fucking deal? Two people like each other, they kiss, they fuck. That’s how it goes for me, anyway.
She should apologize to me . Blue balls is like a kick in the nuts.
I thought it’d be peaceful having her quiet. But I was wrong. It’s awkward. She emits this weird tension in the air like reverse-pheromones or something. Makes me wanna spray some cologne at her.
The silence annoys me on the way to my house, so I crank on some club beats – that should bother her enough to say something. But she’s good at what she does – being annoying. Bouncing her foot up and down like she’s enjoying it. Psh. Yeah right.
“Is this Diplo?” she shouts over the beat, and I laugh.
“No.”
“I’m just kidding, I know it’s Hardwell.” She shrugs haughtily.
How did she know that? I scan the console to make sure it’s not listed anywhere. It’s not.
“You look surprised?” She smirks.
“I am.”
“My friend, Jacky, goes to all these ridiculous festivals, so when we’re working late, we’re forced to suffer her music rotations sometimes. I hated it at first. Dsh! Dsh! Dsh!” She pumps her fist. “After getting tortured for weeks on end? I concede to my Stockholm syndrome – it’s alright.”
“Jacky, huh? Maybe you should hook me up with her,” I say.
“Sure. Jacky’s a dude.”
My face grows hot.
“Asshole.” She laughs and points at me. “She’s actually a beautifully freckled flowerchild. But I had you going for a second. Serves you right for trying to scam on your wife-to-be.”
“And Gil? You going to pretend you don’t have a thing for him?” I side-eye her. “Hypocrite.”
“I don’t! Not my type.”
“What do you mean not your type? He’s got the perfect name for a boring-ass lawyer.”
We bicker for another twenty minutes until we finally reach my house.
The driveway is a cobblestone cul-de-sac with landscaped bushes in the center.
I whip to the front and shove the car in park.
Goddamn, I remember her being quiet as a mouse whenever me and Pop visited in my teenage years.
I never could’ve imagined a damn firecracker about to explode.
Not the big M-80 types, but those little annoying jumping jacks bouncing around everywhere.
Pain in my ass.
While the ‘smart’ lawyer has been playing angry girlfriend for the past half hour, I’ve been scheming as to what the Lucrazi’s next move will be when they realize Sonny is missing.
They’re going to look to Rocco’s closest mobster ties – which, thankfully, is almost all the families.
But none of them would be crazy enough to start a war.
The firepower of the Barone-Lucrazi alliance alone is enough to make a small army shake in their boots.
My father is a fucking crazy person for taking this on.
And if I’m caught with Rocco’s daughter…
pfft . The don might turn his back on us. No protection against two families?
I better keep her under the radar when we’re together.
“C’mon.” I snap my fingers, watching her gaze up at my two-story home. Italian marble columns, stone brick archways. Is she impressed yet? Or is she just sizing up her new living quarters?
“The windows look pristine. I’m shocked.” She folds her arms.
“What did you expect?”
She giggles, running her French-manicured fingertips over the marble leading to the front door. “I’ll hold my tongue.”
“Say it,” I demand.
“No. You’re sensitive and moody. When you’re off your period, maybe.”
I shake my head as I get my keys out. The door may look like a fresh-wood design, but it’s coated in three layers of steel, and the locks are heavy duty. Security and privacy are the number one priority in my line of work.
“Wow.” She looks around. “No glitter and stripper juice splashed everywhere? A nicely kept fireplace. Oh, this couch… not a crumb on it. You’re giving serial killer vib— whoops .”
The hair on the back of my neck prickles. I don’t like being called out… and she’s done it like three times at this point.
“Are you going to be a problem?” I point my finger in her face, eyes holding hers. It’s so clear that her mind is churning with held-back quips. Show me you can restrain yourself, woman.
She shakes her head with a slight frown.
I grunt. There’s that goddamn guilt again. Like I shouted at a child or something. “C’mon.”
She follows me tentatively, eyeing my high crystal chandelier, the streaked white tile floors. It annoys me that she’s leaving footprints all over the place – but that’s on me. OCD can be a real issue sometimes. What’s worse, I have to keep my shoes on in case we have to make a move.
“This is the office. The second office. The third office.” I show her each of my bare-bones rooms equipped with heavy duty VPNs and computer equipment.
I manage two strip joints, an escort service, and three fine dining restaurants.
When I say manage – I fucking own them. Each business segment needs a room.
Different headspace for different duties.
“You’re weirder than I pegged you for.” She grimaces. “But clean, at least.”
Hmph.
We head up the stairs to the second floor.
“Careful, those marble stairs can be slippery.” I point, and she blushes. Every part of me wants to backtrack and say something nasty, but I let it go. “This is my room.” I present a queen size bed with one dresser, a lamp, and room-darkener blinds.
“Like a vampire.” She grimaces again, but nods when I eye her. “A clean vampire.” She claps. “Very clean. Okay, where’s the guest bedroom?” She looks around hopefully. “Where am I staying?”
I clench my jaw and point to my room. “You there. I’ll take the couch.”
“What? You only have one bedroom, in a ten room house?”
“One bathroom too. I had the others converted into storage.” I arc an eyebrow.
“You are a sick individual. I’ll bet you removed the double-sink too.”
My glare lingers on her, and she pretends to faint. “I wasn’t expecting guests,” I say through tight lips.
“Clearly .” She rolls up the shade in my room to a breathtaking view of Manhattan. “So you kick every woman out the next morning? It’s not very friendly in here.”
“Sometimes the same night.”
She pretends to gag, then starts ripping my sheets off the bed.
“Yo!” I grab the other side of my comforter to stop her. “They’re clean!”
“Nuh uh. These need to be burned if I’m going to be staying here.”
“What?”
“Get a black light and I’ll show you, Trino. Stripper juice and glitter. Sometimes it’s invisible.”
I shake my head. “What the fuck did I get myself into?”