8. Wynter
Wynter
“T his is beautiful,” I breathed, looking at the New York City skyline. “I’ve been here for four years and never knew this existed.”
I convinced Bas to bypass a dinner sitting in a fancy restaurant.
Instead, we got sushi carry-out from a small Japanese restaurant.
He swore they had the best sushi in town.
We walked into the crowded restaurant together, where people stared at Bas with wide eyes.
I had never been more glad to convince someone to do carry-out.
Once in a while, I’d run into a figure skating fanatic and it’d get awkward. But this time, Bas took all the show. He was probably well-known, considering who he was.
When we picked up our order, Bas drove us to Hamilton Park and now we sat on the hood of his Lamborghini, shoulder to shoulder, with the best view in town stretching for miles in front of us.
The lights glittered, yet the city noise didn’t reach here.
It was so quiet that all I heard was our breathing and the soft sounds of the waves separating us from the Big Apple.
He pulled chopsticks out of the bag and handed them to me. I fumbled a bit, trying to figure out the best way to grip them.
“Don’t tell me you never used chopsticks before?”
I shoved my shoulder into his. “I haven’t,” I admitted. “But not to worry, I’m a fast learner.”
“Want me to help you?” he offered, as he pulled food out of the bag. Then opened the first box with tuna rolls.
I was starving. The last few days, with all the shenanigans we found ourselves, I’d burned more calories than consumed.
Gripping the chopsticks, I kept trying to grab a roll without dropping it. After a few tries, I gave up. I was too hungry for this right now.
“Ah, screw it.” Getting rid of one chopstick, I held the other one as a fork and stabbed the sushi roll then picked it up and dipped it into a soy sauce.
He laughed as I shoved the roll into my mouth and instantly the wasabi taste flared on my tongue.
“Holy shit,” I breathed, my nose and tongue burning as I searched for the drink.
His continued booming laughter filled the quiet night air as he dug out a bottle of sparkling water and handed it to me. If my tongue wasn’t on fire, I’d have laughed that he ensured we had pricey mineral water. Like a drunk, I snatched the bottle from him and brought it to my lips.
I gulped it down like a man dying of thirst, blinking tears away.
“You okay?” he asked.
“What the fuck?” I rasped, putting the bottle down. “How much wasabi was in that soy sauce?”
“I should have warned you,” he said, humor still in his voice. “That place knows I like it extra spicy so they usually prepare it that way.” He produced a handkerchief out of somewhere and dabbed at my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I sniffed, letting him wipe the tears rolling down my cheek with his thumb. His touch was gentle, almost reverent and had my chest fluttering. The only thing that ever rattled my heart was ice skating and to feel it around this man shocked me every goddamn time.
Even more concerning was how much I liked it.
“Not your fault,” I murmured, sniffling. “It was just unexpected. Next one will be fine. I won’t let my sushi roll soak as long in the soy sauce.”
Bas picked up another roll and dipped it in for a mere second. Then brought it up, holding it in front of me. I leaned forward, holding his gaze, and closed my lips around the sticks, then pulled back.
“Hmmm.” I savored the taste. “So much better.”
Bas’s eyes darkened, his gaze glued to me like I was the best sight he had ever seen. Nobody had ever looked at me that way or made my stomach flutter with butterflies. The feeling thrilled me and scared me at the same time.
I swallowed the food, while the words of my mother echoed somewhere in the far corner of my mind. The words she used to say to Juliette and I during our teenage years all the time. She hadn’t said them in a while. Yet now they screamed in my brain.
First love shatters your innocence and ends your dreams.
Was that the reason I never bothered with boys? Boys always intrigued Juliette, even more after those words. I didn’t heed the warning because ice skating was everything to me and that seemed to please Mom immensely.
Of course, my mother didn’t behave like our friends’ moms. They’d chaperone the dates, get their daughters educated on safe sex, and put them on birth control. Mine crammed my schedule with training and Juliette’s with ballet.
“What’s on your mind?” Bas inquired, his gaze burning me with its intensity.
“I remembered something my mother used to tell me and my cousin.”
“What’s that?” he asked curiously.
It was a silly thing to say to a twenty-seven-year old man whose reputation as a skilled killer and sought-after bachelor preceded him. Call me stupid, but I trusted him and wanted to share whatever I could with him.
“When we started showing interest in boys in high school, she’d tell us that first love shatters dreams and innocence,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“Rather morbid,” he mused.
I nodded. I didn’t tell him it had never resonated with me until now. Because something about this man could shatter me. I’d stake my life on it. Worst of all, I’d let him.
He picked up another piece of sushi and I took it eagerly. Food was always easier to handle than deep discussions of love. Since I gave up on my own chopsticks, I let him feed me.
“Don’t forget to get some.” I reminded him before taking a bite, so he took the next one and we ate in silence. This moment under the stars would forever stay with me. It was simple and complicated. Romantic and dangerous.
None of it stopped me. I liked this man. The dark edge that surrounded him pulled at strings that I never knew existed and whispered to something deep down in my soul.
“Do you eat sushi often?” he asked.
I thought back to the last time I had sushi. It was with my mother right before leaving for Yale. She took Juliette and I to a little hole in the wall, but they had the best sushi in California. At least she believed so.
Of course, all three of us opted for forks rather than chopsticks.
I still remembered that tense but comfortable silence as we ate our California rolls.
I guess we were all disappointed that day.
I hoped that for once she’d accompany me to the East Coast and see me off to college.
She hoped I’d pick a college on the West Coast. Juliette was on my side, just for the principle of it.
I sighed. “My last night in California, before Jules and I came to college, Mom took us out for sushi,” I told him softly, glancing at the sky.
She was a good mother. I knew she loved me.
Both Juliette and me. But sometimes she felt more like a coach than a mother.
It was like she died right along with my father.
“She was disappointed we picked Yale rather than a university on the West Coast, so it wasn’t the most pleasant evening. ”
The starry sky glittered against the darkness, whispering secrets in a language I’d never understand.
And I knew without a doubt there were many secrets.
It wasn’t until recently that I started pondering what my uncle and mom were hiding.
Her refusal to ever come to New York or the East Coast, and the whole thing with Juliette finding birth certificates that had names of the Cullens as her and Killian’s parents.
There was a lot being withheld from us, leaving us blind to who we really were.
I glanced at him to see he’d been watching me and I smiled.
“How did you end up so-” Dangerous. But that wasn’t the right word.
Papers called him dangerous and ruthless.
The Villainous Kingpin. Those weren’t the right words either.
Yet, none others fit better than those. So at the loss of how to say it delicately, I just spit it out.
“How did you end up being one of the most feared men in New York?”
I was curious about this man. I wanted to know everything, not only what reporters and paparazzi reported.
“Following my father’s footsteps,” he answered, his voice slightly bitter.
I tilted my head pensively. I doubted there was a person on the entire East Coast who hadn’t heard of Gio DiLustro.
Monsters were real, and from everything I heard, Gio DiLustro was one of them.
All you had to do was google his name and hints to his cruelty and crimes were everywhere.
Owner of suspicious businesses, deaths in his strip club and his restaurants.
He was a man to keep your distance from. So was his son. According to the press, Basilio DiLustro wasn’t any less ruthless or lethal than his father. Except I had already fallen under his spell the moment he caught me sneaking over the balcony.
Thanks to Bas’ looks, reports labeled him as charismatic, intriguing, and one of the most sought-after bachelors. They weren’t wrong, but I had a feeling he hid a lot underneath all that.
“I’m not like your Yale boys,” Bas growled, his voice low and dark.
But as I watched him, I didn’t feel fear.
I could sense his darkness, seeping through each word and glance.
The slight psychotic possessive need lurked underneath every word and every look.
Regardless, I faced it head on. I loved it and that was the part that scared me.
The way it seemed to draw me like an undercurrent that would swallow me whole.
“You’re not,” I acknowledged in a whisper. Nobody could mistake Basilio for just any boy. His power and confidence oozed through every fiber of his three-piece-suit.
“I’m not a good man, Wynter.” I nodded, his eyes dark and possessive. Every look and touch by him exuded dominance, control, and power. “I’ve killed many.”