Chapter 18
Eighteen
Liam
There’s clearly a lot of arguing happening between Luca and Harper. The last thing I want is for Bristol to catch wind of what they’re fighting about.
“How about we head to bed?” I ask, offering her my hand. I lead her to the bedroom and let her get dressed in her pajamas while I close up for the night.
I shut off the lights and make sure the house is secure before joining Bristol in my bedroom.
I give a soft knock on my door.
“Come in,” she answers.
I step into the room that I’ve been in hundreds of times, but this time it feels different.
The air is charged, heated.
It’s Bristol’s presence, no doubt, that makes it feel that way.
She’s seated on my mattress, her legs buried under the covers. She nervously chews her bottom lip, and I strip down to my boxers.
Her nervousness exudes off and straight onto me.
My stomach roils, and I force a smile. “We’re just going to sleep. Okay?”
Relief floods her face. “Okay. Can we talk, though, or is that off-limits?”
Smiling, I pull back the covers and stretch out, joining her in my bed.
I never thought I’d see the day that Bristol Greyson is in my bed with me. Maybe as a cruel joke, but not because she likes me.
She does like me, doesn’t she?
Worry starts edging its way into my head.
Bristol scoots down farther on the mattress, coming to lie on her side, staring at me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she whispers.
“Maybe I have.” I reach for the bedside lamp and shut it off, basking the room in darkness. “Or maybe I just never expected to find you in my bed.”
She chuckles softly and wraps her arms around my waist, instantly curling into me.
It’s a nice feeling, her body cocooned to mine. I pull her closer, tighter, resting my chin on the top of her head.
“Hey, don’t do that.” She wiggles free and my cock responds to her lower body movements.
Down, boy.
Now is not the time for that.
I mean, yes, we’re in bed together, but she doesn’t seem ready, and that’s a hard no for me.
I should consider driving her home, but it’s late, and she hasn’t asked to leave.
I take that as a sign that she wants to stay, or maybe it’s just me feeling foolishly hopeful.
She rests her head on her pillow, her eyes sparkling in the darkness as I stare at her, unable to look away.
“Can we talk about that game earlier?” I ask.
Bristol shifts, but I can’t tell if she’s shrugging or just getting comfortable. The bed dips slightly, and then she answers, “Maybe. What do you want to talk about, Liam?”
“Why did you ask me if my father is mafia?”
I shouldn’t even bring it up. I drank to avoid the question, but now I’m being completely reckless and mentioning it again.
I need to know where she’s getting her information. Is there a leak in his organization? It shouldn’t be common knowledge that he runs the New York City mafia. He tries to keep a low profile; at least, I think he does.
We don’t talk business.
Unlike Luca and Ashton, my father isn’t preparing me to run his empire.
“He is mafia, isn’t he?” Bristol asks.
I let silence be my answer.
“Okay,” Bristol sighs. “What if I told you I know, without a doubt, that he runs the mafia in New York City and—”
“Do you have evidence?”
“Me? Of course not. It’s just, I interned for the summer at Eagle Tactical, and I saw—”
“What did you see?” I sit up in bed, my heart racing.
“There were files, pages on your family, my family. It’s quite complicated. For a minute, I thought we might have been related.”
I can’t help but raise an eyebrow as I stare down at her.
She’s joking, right?
“I had the same expression,” Bristol says. The smile softens on her face. “It’s okay. We’re not related, but the files—”
“What files?” I growl.
“The ones they have on everyone. They run background checks for like every local business in town. They also do private investigative work. What’s your problem?” she asks, realizing I’m not lying back down and going to sleep.
All she’s done is worked me up into a frenzy.
“My father is in those files? Am I in those files?”
“You’re mentioned, but it’s nothing bad. Just that you’re his son. What’s the big deal?” Bristol asks.
She has no idea the man Antonio is and what he’s capable of. If he got wind that there was anything on him, so much as a file with his name on it, he’d burn that place to the ground and everyone along with it.
“Stay away from anything involving my father,” I growl at her.
“Obviously,” Bristol says, forcing a smile. “I don’t plan on working for the mafia.” She laughs and runs her hand along my arm and down to my hand.
Her touch is soothing, but I still feel pent-up frustration jumping through my veins, making it impossible to lie down and fall asleep.
“I didn’t ask you that to stress you out or embarrass you in front of your friends,” Bristol says.
I shuffle back down on the mattress, lying on my side, staring at her. “Why did you ask me about it?”
“I wanted to know if you knew he was mafia. Seems like you do.”
“It’d be impossible not to know,” I whisper. “I’d have to be dumb. Doesn’t mean I’m rolling over on him. I have nothing. No evidence. Never saw him commit a crime. I’d make a terrible witness on the stand, and as far as I know, he’s just a very astute businessman.”
“Uh-huh, sure.” Bristol isn’t convinced, but I don’t need to convince her. I just need her to leave it well enough alone. “Are you mad at me for asking?”
I exhale a heavy sigh. “No,” I say and pull her closer. “I’m not mad. I was just surprised.”
“Do you think your friends are going to be afraid of you, now that they know your father is mafia?”
I’m grateful for the darkness, that she can’t read all the features on my face like she could if we were under lamplight. “I think they’ll be okay.”
Bristol shrugs. “If I found out my roommate’s father was mafia, I’d be a little freaked out.”
“What about if your boyfriend’s father were mafia?” I ask. At least I don’t have to worry about her making a colossal fuck up like Harper did the first time she met his parents.
Bristol slides a leg between mine, hooking herself around me. It’s a small but possessive gesture. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”
“Only if you’ll say yes.”
“Absolutely.”
I pull her atop me, my hands at her lower back as I drink her scent in.
“Are you sure we won’t kill each other?” She laughs, brushing her lips over mine in a tentative kiss.
“That’s a promise I can’t make,” I confess. We tend to run hot and cold, except now, I suspect things are going to get hell of a lot spicier between us.