6. Wynter
Wynter
L eaving Juliette and Ivy gaping after me, I followed Bas to his car.
He opened the passenger door for me and I slid into the seat of his Lamborghini.
As I watched him go around the car, I combed my fingers through my hair.
It wasn’t exactly how I envisioned running into him again, but it couldn’t be helped.
It wasn’t like I’d admit to the Italian Kingpin my friends and I were a distraction while our fourth friend was stealing from my uncle.
Oh, who happened to be head of the Brennan Irish mafia?
Yeah, I’d pass on that explanation.
The driver’s door opened and he got behind the wheel.
“No more dancing half-naked on bar tops,” Bas growled softly as he started the car and took off down the street.
“Nice to see you too,” I drawled and gave him my brightest smile. “Don’t tell me your eyes were offended?”
My cheeks heated at my flirting attempt. I never bothered with it before, though now I wished I had more practice. I lowered my eyes, stretching my legs while I stared at my French pedicure.
“Are you even legal to be in the clubs?” he demanded to know.
I peeked at him under my lashes. He was right, I wasn’t legal enough to enter that club.
But that was never a problem considering its owner.
Of course, telling Bas I was related to the well-known mafia owner of the club was out of the question.
Uncle Liam kept us in the dark about his activities, but I knew enough to understand fraternizing with any DiLustro would be frowned upon, seriously.
Besides, my mother hated anything connected to the underworld.
“I’ll be twenty-one in a few weeks,” I admitted softly.
“Jesus, you’re younger than I thought,” he grumbled quietly under his breath. “How did you get into The Eastside?
“The old fashioned way,” I scoffed. “With a fake ID.” He smirked. “How old did you think I was?” I asked him bravely, turning my head to watch his profile.
And what a gorgeous profile it was. My heart thumped to an uneven beat, unlike ever before. The only thing that ever got me excited before was ice skating. As pathetic as that sounded. But it was my life. I lived and breathed figure skating.
Yet now, I feared I would live and breathe this man.
Fuck, this had to be karma for all my snarky remarks about insta-love.
“Well, I had hoped you were at least twenty-one,” he answered.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I will be in a few weeks,” I retorted. “Does that help?” His chuckle filled the car and I quite liked the sound. I had a feeling he didn’t laugh often. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Hmmm.”
“I’ll be twenty-eight soon.”
“Hmmm.”
“And what does hmmm mean?” he challenged.
I looked at him playfully. “I’m trying to decide if you’re old.”
Another chuckle. “Maybe I’m just old enough.”
It was my turn to laugh. “Maybe.”
“I see I’m going to have to convince you,” he drawled.
I made a hmm noise again while my breath was cut short at all the potential ways he could convince me. And let me tell you, the images in my mind were X-rated. For someone that had never had sex, I was a bit shocked at myself.
A strange thrill shot through my veins and heat rushed to my cheeks.
Another chuckle by Bas followed. “Something tells me your thoughts are not so pure right now, Wynter .”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Oh, and yours are, Bas ?”
“Touché.” Something amused and seductive played in his gaze as his eyes flicked to me. “Bas?” he asked in a smooth voice, his eyes burning.
My heart fluttered so fast, I thought it’d fly out of my chest. I was used to high-intensity interval training on the ice and treadmill to get my heart ready for the 200 beats per minute for my performances. Yet, none of that exercise could ever prepare me for this kind of heart racing.
“Isn’t that your name?” I breathed.
A quick flicker my way, his eyes on my lips, he returned his attention to the road.
“Nobody ever calls me Bas. Only Basilio.” His voice was deep and soft.
“Oh. Basilio is so stiff, you know.” He shrugged. “Do you know your name means ‘kingly’?” I blurted out, probably sounding like a fool. The fact that I knew what his name meant probably revealed how detailed my look up of him was.
“I did,” he mused.
“Well, I like your name, but I like Bas better.”
He chuckled amused, offering me a fleeting glance.
“I like it, but only you can call me Bas.”
My breaths turned shallow and something warm flickered in my chest. Something so simple and innocent, yet I felt like I’d done something right and earned his praise. It was stupid, I knew it. But I couldn’t shake the feeling off.
“Okay, Bas ,” I accentuated his name. “Where are we eating? I’m starving.”
My skin was burning up. This reaction to opposite sex was a novelty. I read about it. Heard about it. But I’ve never felt it. Never experienced even a hint of a possibility of attraction to anyone. And here, with this man, the wave of attraction slammed into me and soaked into my every cell.
“I’m assuming you didn’t read my message?” he inquired and I remembered. He sent me a text earlier today, but I was in the midst of holding Ivy’s head above the toilet.
We spent last night in Uncle’s Hampton home. We had to get out of town, and once we devised the plan to rob my uncle’s safe in The Eastside, Ivy, Juliette, and Davina started drinking. Admittedly, I joined in, but I didn’t get hammered like those three.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologized quickly and reached for my phone. “I opened your message but then didn’t get to read it. Ivy started puking her guts out.”
“Drunken night?” he mused. I nodded my head, smiling. “Forget your phone. I’m here now, so I can deliver the message personally.”
“So damn bossy,” I retorted, feigning irritation. I was used to people bossing me around. Trainers, tutors, coaches. As long as their advice was sound, I always listened. I had a feeling Bas always gave sound advice.
I reached for the radio to hide my smile, though I suspected nothing would escape this man.
The song that came on couldn’t be more appropriate, “Eastside” with Halsey & Khalid.
How convenient since I ran into him at The Eastside and we were running away together from Quinn and Uncle. Poetically speaking.
The silence stretched, the words playing over his speakers at a low volume. Goosebumps rose on my skin and kindled flame drifted through me. My stomach made somersaults.
Get a grip, Wynter.
I must be losing my damn head. Or heart? I mean, it didn’t happen that fast. I’ve only seen him twice before. I barely knew him.
“The surveillance is wiped out.”
My eyes widened. “Seriously?” I gasped. Suddenly the week was looking up.
“Yes,” he confirmed.
“What about neighbors and their cameras?”
“Everything is wiped out,” he assured me. “Garrett’s surveillance. Neighbor’s. Even the city’s. There is no sign that you ever ventured that way.”
I grinned widely, beaming at him. He might be a notorious criminal, but he was my hero right now. “Thank you so much, Bas.”
“No problem,” he drawled. “After all, you’re paying for it.”
He came to a stop at the red light, in the heart of Manhattan. The city lights flickered. The wail of an ambulance echoed in the distance. The bus came to a screeching halt next to us. But all of it was just background noise to me. Distant and faint.
All my senses honed in on this man next to me.
“Not much of a hardship,” I breathed.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Our gazes collided, his burning me. In the best way possible.
His eyes traveled down my body, slowly like he was memorizing every inch of it. His eyes lingered on my bare feet before he took my hand into his and it felt like he branded me as his. The heat of his touch leaked into my bloodstream while his thumb brushed my knuckles.
Just like he had when I asked him to erase the surveillance.
“Let’s go get you some shoes,” he said. My eyes fell to where he held my hand. His big one against my small one. His grip was firm, possessive. As if he considered me his already. And I didn’t mind. I knew he killed men with that same hand, and yet fear within me was absent.
His stare traveled back up my body, and I felt every inch of my skin buzz under the scrutiny of it. My pulse fluttered, my chest heaved.
“Bas?” I rasped, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes?”
“Why did you just ask for a dinner date?” He could have asked for a lot more and I would have done it.
“Because Wynter Star,” his deep voice rasped. “... you’ll give me everything else. Of your own free will.”