9. Glorified babysitter
Chapter 9
Glorified babysitter
Luca
“ Y ou want me to be their babysitter?” I don’t mean for it to come out as a snarl, but it does. While following Ariana around like a lovesick puppy dog sounds like a dream job, it’s not exactly what I thought I would be doing here. It’s probably better than memorizing the strawberry shake code shit I thought existed for a few minutes, though.
Marco sighs. “Security detail. Not babysitter. You’re not in charge of them. You’re keeping them safe from threats. Everywhere they go, you go.”
“Why?” Marco gives me that ‘you’re an idiot’ look across his big ass desk. “Okay, I know why. But why now? Why me? For how long?” It’s not that I think it’s a bad idea. My hand clenches at the memory of seeing Ariana bleeding. They should have had someone with them already.
“So shit like last night doesn’t happen again. I’ve let the girls convince me they don’t need someone on their ass every time they leave this house for too long. Clearly, doing things the way we’re doing them now isn’t good enough.” He’s surprisingly calm, given the subject matter. Or maybe he’s just really good at schooling his features.
It’s got to be that. His poker face game is strong. I should practice that shit. Because right now, I’m imagining myself being glued to Ariana’s ass and fighting a hard-on. Fuck. Her dad is right there, dude.
Marco continues. “For how long? Until I say stop. And why you? They need backup, not a bodyguard. They’ve had that before, and they don’t handle it well. I’m still surprised Sully survived it and stuck around afterward. I offered that dipshit a full retirement, and he turned it down.” He shakes his head with a hint of a smile on his face.
“That’s so very encouraging,” I grumble.
His face hardens. “You’re here to learn? To find a place in my crew? Maybe your place in the DeVille family?”
An exasperated huff slips out. “I’m here because there was no fucking way I was picking the other option, Marco.”
He rests his elbows on his desk and steeples his fingers. “You want out?”
“Not if out means Mom’s way.”
“It could mean whatever the fuck you want it to. A new name, a fresh start. Fuck, a new face if you want.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What the hell is wrong with my face?”
“It frowns too damn much. That’s not the point, asshole. You could go anywhere and be anyone. No trace, no trail, simply gone.” He kind of throws his hands up, like he’s tossing flour in the air or something. He’s letting down his wall with me, and it’s kind of unnerving. Flashes of memories play out in my head. Dad and Marco playing catch with me, teaching me how to fish, skipping rocks on the lake…
I mentally shake my head. “How? ”
“Do you know what we do here, Luca?”
“Honestly? No, not really. You run shit, but I don’t know exactly what that means.”
“It means we keep people as safe as we can. We track what guns are moving in and out of the area. Same with most drugs. We try to keep it pure because trying to keep it out is impossible. If tainted shit shows up on the streets, we find it and eliminate the source. We run most of the strip clubs, sex clubs, and brothels on both sides of the legal system, so safety isn’t something people working there have to fucking worry about. And if we get a whiff of something that smells even a little bit like human trafficking, we shut that shit down.” He sits back in his chair. “Twenty-two years ago, we eradicated the old regime and the old ways. If some dickhead ends up in the shed, it’s because they hurt someone, not because they owe money. Don’t get me wrong, we get our fucking money, but we have different methods.”
“When you say ‘we eradicated,’ who do you mean?”
“Me, Ford, your dad, and a few others. Men we could trust to stick to the new ways. There are other crews, and they each run their own area, but they all answer to me.”
“Shit.” I lean forward and put my elbows on my knees, taking it all in. “Is it legitimately the mafia?”
“We do things our own way here. I don’t care what people want to call it,” he says with a shrug.
“And if I don’t want to be a part of it?”
“Then we create a new identity for you and send you on your merry fucking way. We usually do it when someone needs to get away from an abusive piece of shit we can’t get rid of without causing a bigger issue. Birth certificate, driver’s license, social security card, money, everything you’d need to start a new life.”
I can see how it could be tempting, but immediately rule it out. I’m a DeVille .
Out of curiosity, I ask, “What about the girls? If I don’t stay, who’s taking this job?”
“Ford until I figure something else out. Sully, if I can convince him to do it again. Fucker might run away, though.”
“God damn babysitter duty, huh? This what you assign everyone to at first? See how long before they beg you to move ‘em or kill ‘em? It’s not forever, right? That’ll factor into my decision.” I sit back and relax a little. Hell, that was even a little funny.
“The turnover rate is atrocious, and the pigs can only eat so much,” he deadpans. “I need eyes on them. We have enemies. I want my girls safe.” He cocks his head a little. “And you’re a trained fighter, Grim.”
That gets my fucking attention. And I definitely don’t know how to school my features. I can feel, ‘How the fuck does he know that’ show clearly on my face. Since there’s no use pretending I have no idea what he’s talking about, I own it.
“How the fuck do you know that?”
“You might not use your real name when you fight, but Dimitri called me the second you showed up to get the okay. And again when you wanted to start working security outside the ring when you weren’t fighting. I’ve kept tabs on you. You’re good, Luca.” He sounds almost… proud of me?
No one’s said something like that to me in a long time. I’m not sure my mom ever has. Dimitri and the trainers I worked with were interested in the money and crowds I brought in, but that’s it. I try that poker face thing again, but I can’t help shifting in the chair a little. The small praise makes me uncomfortable but also fills me with pride. I absentmindedly run my right thumb over the black ink on my left forearm. A line of mostly small stars and a few birds wrap around it fully twice and part of a third. Marco’s eyes follow the movement.
I clear my throat and drop my hand. “Is there something like that I can do here?” My voice is quieter than I mean it to be. I sound weak. Fuck. I clear my throat again and grab myself by the balls. Metaphorically or whatever. “Just fighting, not bouncing.”
He assesses me silently for a few seconds. “I think we can work something out. I’ll put Sully on it while you start shadowing the girls. You can use the gym we have here in the house. Let me or Ford know if there’s any equipment you want that’s not already in there. I’m going to put you in one of the bedrooms over by the girls. Otherwise, you won’t know what they’re up to half the time.”
Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. Or maybe being that close to Ariana all the fucking time will be torture. My money’s on the second one.
“Everywhere they go, huh?”
“Everywhere. Starting tomorrow. There’s a few weeks left of classes.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Classes? I came here to get out of going to college.”
Shaking his head, he gives me an exasperated look. “Calm down, I’m not signing your ass up for Shakespeare or some shit.”
“Am I driving them around?” I tip my head back and groan at the ceiling.
Marco laughs and stands, so I follow suit. The standing part, that is. “You can try, but Ariana will probably knee you in the balls and take the keys. She always drives because Lil’s terrible. The absolute worst. Embarrassingly bad. Totaled a few cars I bought them in high school, then decided to take my Porsche and wrecked it in eight minutes flat. Almost killed them both.”
My eyes go wider with every word of his last couple of sentences. “Why the fuck did Ariana get in the car with Lil?”
He claps me on the back as we turn to leave his office. This room has a harsher feel to it than the rest of the house, with its black furniture and general mafia boss vibes, but there’s still pictures of Mia and the girls on the walls. “Ride or die, they like to say. Literally.” He rolls his eyes, letting down his mask a bit more. “Can’t live without each other. But that was the last straw, and Ari straight up won’t let Lil drive anymore.”
Thank god for that…
The girls are not happy with the plan. Nope, not one bit. They complain about it all throughout dinner.
“Dad. Seriously. We don’t need a babysitter,” Lil declares with a glare.
Marco sighs because they’ve already gone through this three times. “He’s not a babysitter. He’s security.”
“Sounds like a babysitter to me,” Ariana sing-songs. “If I’d been paying more attention walking out that door last night, we wouldn’t need a babysitter.” She stabs a tortellini with her fork and scowls at it like it personally did her wrong.
My hand itches to touch her face again, to lift her chin so she’s looking up at me. To check the split in her lip. But I can’t keep doing that. It was borderline weird the first two times I did it. I try willing her to look at me instead, Jedi-style.
It doesn’t work.
Chewing and swallowing the offending pasta, she cocks her head to the side. “Actually, if we had just killed the guy and dumped his ass in the desert, we wouldn’t need a babysitter.”
“Fuck, why didn’t we do that?” Lil asks, throwing her hands up in the air.
“How exactly would you have explained Ariana’s face if you hadn’t called Dad for help,” Mia asks.
“Well, I’m not going to tell you that now. We might need it later.” Lil grins while Mia purses her lips and shares an eye roll with Becca.
“Even together, the two of you couldn’t have moved him.” Marco looks a lot more amused than Mia does by the turn this conversation has taken.
“Not in one piece, no.” Ariana smiles sweetly, like she didn’t just allude to dismembering a body.
Mia sighs heavily and shakes her head, but there’s a hint of a smirk on her face as the conversation returns to my role and if I have an official title. The girls start throwing words like “nanny,” “chaperone,” and “warden” around.
There hasn’t been a moment of silence since we sat down for dinner, until Mia says, “Lights out at midnight tonight, girls,” before disappearing to go do… fuck, I wasn’t paying attention, so I have no idea where Mia went. Or Becca. Marco holds up a finger at me and then follows his wife. I lean against the wall to wait for him.
Ariana and Lil freeze in the kitchen, where they’re looking for dessert, and stare at each other, mouths open like fish.
“Now we have a babysitter and a bedtime? It’s like we’re eight again!” Ariana whines. Even her whine is cute.
“She knows we’re both twenty, right?” Lil asks.
“I’m pretty sure she knows, Lil. I just don’t think she cares.”
“What did we do to piss them off this bad?”
“I don’t know, but whatever it was, I’m sure it was your idea.” Ariana points an accusing finger at Lil.
“Possibly. It’s far more possible that it was your idea.” Lil taps her chin thoughtfully before whispering, “Maybe Dad told her about the cigarettes.”
“I don’t think so, but who really knows anymore?” Ariana whispers back.
Lil drops her head to the counter and fake cries while Ariana chuckles and says, “Well, we had a good run. I guess we’ll just start that homebody spinster shit now. Maybe we should fight about what type of pet we’re getting again.”
“I mean, they could have found out about the?—”
“Shut the fuck up, Lilith! Our watchdog is listening!” Ariana hisses.
Lil looks up and jerks her head toward me. “I bet he doesn’t have a fucking bedtime.”