Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Remi
“Oww.” My alarm clock, also known as Nola, pounces on my head. “Come on! I was out late; let me sleep in,” I whine.
She meows .
“Nosy. You want to know what happened last night.” My eyes protest as I peel them open. “Oh.” The guest bedroom is filled to the brim with carnations. Hundreds upon hundreds of red carnations in beautiful crystal vases.
I grab the note on the tray with the espresso and pastry, nearly knocking off two framed photos.
I’ll let you keep your favorite photo of mine if I get to keep my favorite photo of yours.
~ Angelo
In one frame is Angelo’s cobblestone street photograph, and in another is a photograph of…my jaw drops. It’s a photo of me from last night on stage. A look of pure bliss on my face, I’m lost in the music.
“See, Nola. I told you this man was a big problem. Look how smooth he is, trying to make me forget about rule number three!”
She acts like she doesn’t understand, which frustrates me to no end.
“You want me to get my heart broken? Because I’ll never be the kind of woman that gives Angelo Calvani an ‘air of legitimacy.’ Oh, but I know a guy who can help you hotwire a car.
Or another who can fence just about any piece of stolen jewelry.
Or how about the woman with the food truck who sells beignets and weed, which is actually a smart business model,” I muse.
Shaking my head, I announce, “I’m off topic; my point is, those are my social connections! ”
Having enough of my theatrics, Nola hops off the bed and scratches on the door.
“Fine. Go get your heart broken.” I open it, and she strolls out, unbothered.
I, on the other hand, am very much bothered , even after a bath with my espresso, acting all fancy.
Entering the kitchen, I find Alessandra in her school uniform, finishing her breakfast. “Do I even want to know why there’s a creepy mannequin wearing a suit and covered in jingle bells?”
I clap my hands excitedly, running over to the living area to check it out. “I’ve never lifted a phone from a clipped belt, and I wanted to practice.”
“What are the bells for?” Alessandra wonders.
“Keeps me honest. If I hear a bell, that means the mark heard me.”
“An honest thief. Now there’s an oxymoron.” Maks appears.
Having never had an actual conversation with this man, I’m curious about him. “Can I read your palms?”
“My what?” he says, looking at me like I’ve sprouted three heads.
“You’re a palm reader? I have no idea how you got hooked up with my brother, but you are like the coolest chick ever,” Alessandra tells me.
“Aww, you’re sweet.” I smile at her, turning to Maks. “May I see your hands? Palms up.”
“No,” he says flatly.
“Afraid to learn your fate?” I taunt.
“He is!” Alessandra exclaims.
Maks sighs heavily before turning over both hands.
I mosey over to take a look. “Which is your dominant hand?”
“Right.”
To get a bit of history, I first examine his large left palm.
“You survived a major injury that required hospitalization,” I muse, tracing the circle on his life line called an island.
The bigger the island, the more serious the injury; his is a pretty big one.
“Related to your former career. Military or police?” The last part is an educated guess; Maks gives former man in uniform vibes.
He jerks his hands away from me. “Save your grift for the mayor’s party. Alessandra, I’m driving you to school. Let’s go.”
“Lucky me.” It’s her turn for an eye roll as she grabs her backpack. “I’ll see you later, Remi.”
“Bye,” I tell her.
Alessandra scowls at Maks’ back as she follows him out.
I sidle up the mannequin, smiling at its featureless face and placing my left hand on its wrist. My right goes to unclip the phone, but the melodic jingle humbles me.
“Oh, it’s on, Mr. Mannequin.”
Angelo
Not only is Remi the most optimistic woman I’ve ever met, she might be the most determined; she’s been practicing with the mannequin all day. I close out the security feed on my phone as I call my broker. “Mr. Calvani.” She answers promptly.
“I want to buy Hotel D’Amico.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize it was on the market.”
“Everything’s on the market for the right price.” Sienna will have no qualms parting ways with her husband’s legacy, given enough zeros.
“Of course. Let me run the comps and work up a detailed assessment before we come up with our valuation?—”
“Time is of the essence, and money is no object.” Because I want to dangle this new carrot in front of a certain little pickpocket.
“Understood.”
I end the call as we pull into the secured parking area. Mentally gearing up for battle, I pass through security and enter the visitation room. Fabien’s already there, in his mind waiting on Al.
His look of surprise can’t be hidden, which I find extremely satisfying. “Expecting someone else?” I sit across from him, making a show of looking around. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. Sibling manipulation, I mean visitation , has come to an end.”
Fabien leans back in the chair, crossing his arms. “All that unchecked power has gone to your head, little brother.”
I place my hands on the table, leaning over. “And you think you’ll be the one to check me?”
“No need. Pride before the fall.”
“You speaking from experience?”
“Yes,” he admits, disarming me. Fabien Calvani has never admitted to a mistake his entire life.
“I’m going to ask you more time: did you send me a message?” I press.
“Still no clue what you’re talking about, but I received yours loud and clear.”
Fabien silently rises and stalks across the room. He and the corrections officer exchange something, and the secure door buzzes open, with my brother disappearing.
An uneasy feeling settles over me as I exit the building. “Want my two cents?” Maks offers when we’re both in the vehicle, sandwiched between our security convoy.
My fingers tap a nervous melody on the arm rest.“Let’s hear it.”
“End him while you still have the upper hand. Some vows aren’t worth keeping.”
All the way back to the city, I gnaw over Maks’ words like gristle on a cheap steak. On the one hand, he has a hell of a point. But on the other, Al would never forgive me if she so much as thought I killed our brother.
God, I fucking hate Fabien for bringing her into the middle of this.
Arriving at the apartment in a pensive mood, I find Remi on the couch, hanging her head upside down and staring at the mannequin.
“You need a break.” Or maybe I’m the one who needs a break.
“But—”
She squeals as I scoop her up and toss her over my shoulder, carrying her up the stairs and onto the rooftop patio. “You have to stop doing that!” she cries as I place her in a chair.
Taking my seat, I grab Remi’s chair leg, scooting her closer. For whatever reason, it settles me having the little pickpocket nearby; absurd, considering it increases my chances of being robbed.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, eyeing me speculatively.
“Earlier, I met with my brother in prison. Things between us have always been…tense,” I admit.
“Alessandra said that he’s getting released soon,” she comments.
I sigh heavily. “A worry for another day. Do you feel confident about tomorrow night?”
“The belt clip is trickier than I thought,” she admits, worrying her bottom lip. “But maybe I can get the mayor to show me his phone somehow? I don’t know, ask for a selfie of the two of us, distract him, and then swipe it.”
“Distract him how?”
“By any means necessary,” she says.
“He does not touch you.” My body vibrates with angry possessiveness.
“Will you be touching Laurie? Dancing? Holding hands? Kissing?” Remi challenges. “You don’t have a leg to stand on.”
“Let the mayor touch you, and he won’t have either of his legs to stand on. I’ll cut them off and toss them overboard, feed the alligator while you watch.” My words are wild, consequences be damned.
“You wouldn’t.” She gasps.
“Try me.”
I shove Remi’s legs apart and jerk the hem of her dress out of the way. Dipping my head, my nose skims along the fabric of her panties, and I grab both ends of the waistband, giving them an aggressive tug.
The fabric rips clean in two as Remi gasps.
Spreading her pussy open with the V of my fingers, my tongue skates across her lovely pink clit.
“Oh,” she moans.
My tongue lazy, I lap at her glistening desire. “Naughty little pickpocket, already dripping for me.”
Remi
I can’t deny it: I am already dripping for him.
Just sex. This can be just sex .
Denial sounds good to me as I roll my hips in rhythm with the swipes of Angelo’s tongue.
“Did you know this pussy is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted?” He murmurs, giving my clit a surprisingly gentle kiss.
“Oh!” But then I cry out when his rough beard rubs back and forth over my swollen clit.
“I’m obsessed with this pussy, and my cock hasn’t even claimed it yet.” Angelo drags his tongue from my clit to my opening, and back up.
Over and over and over.
My head lolls to the side, my legs spreading wide for him on a delirious moan.
“That’s a good girl. Keep those legs spread wide while I make you come on my tongue.”
Threading my fingers through Angelo’s hair, my hips undulate with each movement of his tongue. If I’m hurting him, he doesn’t complain.
Angelo’s exploration is slow and methodical as he looks up at me from between my legs. The most dangerous man I’ve ever met, on his knees before me. The thought alone is enough to nearly make me orgasm.
I shudder violently, and he hums his approval, ruthlessly working his tongue to the side of my clit, barely brushing it with each swipe.
Pleasure builds slowly, and like a classical pianist reaching the grand finale of the piece, Angelo moves his tongue faster and faster.
“Oh, God,” I moan, my nails raking his scalp. “Don’t stop.”
His teeth give it a little nip, and I squeal.
“Angelo.” He growls. “You say my name when you come. You understand me?”
Answering with a frustrated huff gets my clit another nip.
“Oww!”
“What was that?”
“Yes, Angelo.”
“Better.” He returns to his ministrations, but instead of returning to where we left off, he begins teasing me again from the beginning of the number.
I squirm, trying to shift my hips so he’s directly on my clit, but he gives my thighs a warning squeeze.
“What did I tell you the last time you fell apart for me?” he says against my pussy, his lips brushing my sensitive clit with each word. “I decide when you come.”
My head falls back in frustration, but I relax my lower half, and Angelo murmurs his approval. He begins again, and there’s nothing I can do except take what he’s giving me.
Methodical. Controlled. Determined.
His method of eating pussy matches his personality. It’s amazingly infuriating.
Angelo works me up into a needy mess. My body’s writhing so hard, the only thing keeping me in my chair is his strong hands pinning me down by my thighs.
“An-ge-lo.” I draw out his name, pleasure coursing through me as I fall off the cliff. My eyes snap closed, my head falls back, and the most primal sound escapes my lips.
“Beautiful.” He presses a soft kiss to my overly sensitive clit.
The security phone buzzes, and he rises, the bulge in his pants big. Too big.
“Enjoying the view?”
My eyes snap up to meet his, which are filled with a mix of humor and desire.
“No way you can fit that thing inside me,” I blurt out.
“Only one way to find out,” he challenges. “Keep those legs spread wide for me, Remi, because I’m going to claim this sweet pussy.”
If I’m being honest, I’ve wanted Angelo Calvani to claim me the moment I laid eyes on the man. But since I’m a thief, nowhere does it say I have to be honest.
“You have to catch me first.”