Chapter 38 Kitty
THIRTY-EIGHT
KITTY
Lips curving thanks to the text convo with my buds, I peered at Stan, who looked fly in a tailored suit I needed to fuck him out of. “I’m guessing you’re behind this?”
I showed him the article George had also forwarded me.
He turned smug. “Of course.”
“How many more will be washing up like dirty laundry?”
“A few dozen.”
“Dozens?!” I sputtered.
His smugness faded and morphed into irritation. “Unfortunately. Our current methods of pest control need tweaking. Our pigs are eating at max capacity.”
I shook my head at his verbiage. “The carnage made national headlines.”
“Let it. NYC takes out the trash and cleans up its streets—that’s proof.”
“That’s bullshit.”
He winked. “Maybe. But you don’t have to worry about it, duci.”
Harrumphing, I asked, “What’s on today’s agenda?”
I knew it was packed solid. That manic shopping session yesterday had only gone down because we were leaving the city today.
Six-hundred-thousand dollars later plus the Birkin Stan had somehow tucked onto my arm this morning and I now had a summer wardrobe.
Summer.
He expected me to drop that seasonally.
Excess aside, I rather enjoyed the parallel nature of the Himalaya he’d given me.
This purse had started us on this odd journey, after all…
Stan turned to me. Though I should torment him for leaving yesterday’s shopping trip to the last minute and for getting Neev in on the action, I didn’t stop him from peeking down my cleavage. Not when I knew he was seeking out the spot where his crest now sat forevermore.
He circled the area. “Ohio.”
“Ohio? I thought we were going to Poughkeepsie to see SofiaTh3Gr8?”
He peered over his shades. His cuff adjusted, revealing a newer, smaller piece of ink—carpe diem. It’d be cliché if I didn’t know it meant something to him. “We are. After we head to Ohio.”
I tugged on the hemline of the expensive dress Neev had selected for me—black, severe, but goddamn, it paired deliciously with the heels he’d gifted me too.
Six inches.
Sharper than stilettos.
With patent leather straps that wrapped around my feet corset-style.
I looked like a million bucks—two million when he glanced at me.
If I wanted to fuck him in his sharp suit, he sure as hell wanted to bend me over the nearest table.
What a way to join the mile-high club…
I even remembered making that offer a while back, suggesting that we use that very private bedroom onboard, but god, just the thought had my skin feeling too tight.
And not from arousal.
I’d never resented my fear of flying more than I did now.
“We’re… flying? I thought we’d be driving.”
A packet of Dramamine wafted in front of me.
So relieved that I almost cried, I accepted the meds but only consumed a single tablet. His all-seeing eyes watched on as I whispered, “Why Ohio?”
With his eyes scanning me, zealous and fervent, he revealed, “Rubies.”
“Ah, yes, the family curse.”
“Three more…” The trace of his fingers held me in his thrall. “…that’s all we need for it to be over.”
“The bracelets, right?”
“Cuffs and a necklace.”
“Maybe you’ll get them back now that you have the luck of the Irish on your side.”
“Who knew leprechauns carried Birkins, huh?”
With the meds already kicking in, I cackled. “Hey! I don’t look like a troll!”
“My sexy leprechaun,” he tacked on swiftly.
“Nice save.” My amusement dampened as our car drew ever closer to the private jet, but not out of fear. “You sure I should come with you?”
“That’d better be either a rhetorical question or you fishing for compliments.”
“Well, I’m not against more compliments, but I meant with Currau—”
“He’s fine. He has a detail of his own and that massive room and hydrotherapy and whatever else Rory decided he needs.” He plucked at the button on his sports coat. “Honestly, she’s nesting in the wrong place.”
I thought about his very pregnant sister’s belly… “When is she due?”
“Next couple of weeks.” He tilted his head to the side. “We’ll be getting together soon. As a family. Before the birth…”
“Yeah?” I studied him, aware he wanted to say something but hedged instead.
His inked fingers played with mine and I rubbed my thumb over the letters forever etched there. “I want you to attend with me.”
I shot him a shy smile. “That can be arranged.”
“Oh, how?”
“You have to reserve my time at least an hour in advance,” I said promptly.
Stan’s chuckle lit up the back of the town car, mine entwined with it.
Honestly, my secondhand happiness would have terrified me with anyone else.
Somehow, the sapfest I felt for him had me forgiving myself for letting Stan get away with murder.
Literally.
“We don’t have an hour, but how about a half-hour’s notice?”
“Sure. I’ll pencil you into my calendar.” My smirk faltered. “You sure that Currau can afford to be without me? It’s a massive change.”
“You asked the man yourself.” He shot me a pointed look. “Are you trying to get out of the plane journey?”
I stared at the jet—someone else might coo and be awed by the luxury of it. Me? I was busy racing through the stats on how many of these planes crashed. Again. “You sure you checked it over?”
“No, because I know nothing about planes.” When I whacked his arm, he hooked it over my shoulders and hauled me into his side. “Because I knew you were coming with me, I asked Rory to send another team in this morning to double-check the first service.”
I gnawed on my lip. “That was considerate of you.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t sit on my lap,” he offered gruffly.
“I do prefer that seating option.”
Unsurprisingly, he was as good as his word.
The trip to Ohio ran a little over two hours and I spent the bulk of that on his knee.
Any smidge of turbulence and he tucked me tighter into him and let me freeze without getting angry at my overreaction.
Unlike me, who found the tattooed area hypersensitive and sore, he had no problem with his back rubbing against the seat.
By the end of the flight, I knew why getting carpe diem inked on his wrist had been important to him—it had led him to me—and I’d also learned that Rory had been a menace as a teenager, Luc had wanted to teach history before becoming a mobster, and that during the summers, they’d vacationed at a house that made Downton Abbey look tiny.
His anecdotes and the trip down memory lane meant that I wasn’t a trembling mess despite only taking a single Dramamine, but my relief knew no bounds once my heels touched terra firma.
A part of me knew that I’d have to adapt to flying if I wanted to be with him more. The perks of heading up Currau’s extensive team of medical staff meant that I could work from the road because many aspects of my job were administrative.
Wherever possible, and if Stan invited me along, I knew I’d always go with him.
Distance wouldn’t suit us, I didn’t think.
He slept better with me at his side. Had started gaining weight from eating more frequently. My absence would only cause him to worry—he liked me close.
And he wasn’t alone in that.
Distance would give my mind time to race and to fret—about him, his work.
I’d lost enough people along the way to want to spend as much of it with him as I could.
Basically, I had to get over this phobia.
Easier said than done.
“You look pensive, duci,” he commented when we were in yet another car, this time taking us to some town called Coshocton.
“It’s dumb,” I admitted.
“Nothing is dumb. Aside from testing your own drugs…”
His self-deprecating joke had me wrinkling my nose at him. “When I fly, I get pretty maudlin.”
“Maudlin?”
“Yes. Thinking about… death, you know?”
He angled his face toward me. “Whose death? Your own?”
“Surprisingly, no. If I die, I won’t hurt, will I? I’ll be dead. But I’ll leave people behind who will hurt. A-And I think of who I’m traveling with and worry I’ll survive but they won’t.”
“Survivor’s guilt?”
“No. More like…” A breath whooshed out of me. “I anticipate grief, I guess.”
“Anticipate grief.” It wasn’t a question. More like he needed to speak the words to understand them. So I didn’t feel the need to explain, just let him process them. “I think I’ve experienced this.”
“Yes?” I asked, cautious to the last on this subject. Nobody else in my family got it so I’d only brought it up a couple of times.
“You won’t like my answer.”
“Doesn’t matter. Tell me anyway.”
He cleared his throat. “When I learned about Evangeline’s illness, I think this ‘anticipatory grief’ had me racing against the clock to develop a drug. Then, after, guilt consumed me. I didn’t work fast enough. Wasn’t good enough—”
“That’s not true,” I argued.
“It is true. It took me years—”
“Yes! Because that’s how long meds take to develop. If a solution is even possible or workable. Sheesh, Stan. Be kind to yourself a little, huh?
“Scientists spend years creating new compounds. Then testing them. And they don’t have a full-time job as a Capo!” My hands wafted in the air at him.
“I wasted time on Red—”
“Why?”
“Luc and Rory are forgiving, but developing Vangelin was costly. I needed to fund it somehow. E quindi, I understand this anticipatory grief.”
I grabbed his hand. “You don’t think I’m weird?”
“If you are, then I am too.” Frowning, he studied our entwined fingers. “When I bring her up, does it hurt you?”
I thought about his question but answered honestly, “No.” His confusion had me taunting, “Did you want it to?”
He tugged on our joined hands. “No!”
“I think you loved her and that is never something to be hurt about.” Because I understood what he was asking, even if he didn’t spell it out, I continued, “And there’s no point being jealous of a dead woman. I can hurt for her and for you.
“I can wish things had ended differently for her while still hoping that destiny would have played a hand and we’d have found our way to one another.”