Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Joaquin
I’m a light sleeper, so there was no chance Tre—I don’t know how I came up with that, but it’s how I think of her now—was getting out of bed without me noticing.
I can run on the least sleep in the family, and I wake the fastest. It started when I was nearly eleven, and my father was murdered right in front of my brothers and me.
I was terrified to fall asleep in case the men who murdered Papá came back for Mamá and Dos J’s.
As the oldest, I felt responsible for all of them. I still do.
I watch Tre head into the bathroom, then the door closes.
It’s only a moment later that the toilet flushes, and I hear the sink.
I wait for her to return, but nothing happens.
I wonder if she’s going to hop in the shower, but I don’t hear the water run again.
When she comes back out, she’s too cheery for someone who clearly woke up with a hangover.
My gaze skims over her naked body, and I wonder if she’s clear headed enough to even realize she’s on display.
“Tre?”
“Thanks for an amazing night.”
I wait for more, like an invitation for another round or four, but nothing’s forthcoming.
Instead, we stare at each other until I take the hint that she’s waiting for me to leave.
I’ve never gotten the brush off quite so fast this early in the—I glance at my watch—mid-morning.
I climb out of bed and reach for my boxer briefs.
I observe her, and it’s clear she’s not unaffected by seeing how hard I got while watching her.
This is way more than just morning wood.
This is I want to pull her back into bed and fuck her through to tomorrow morning.
“Like what you see, chiquita?”
“You know I did.”
Did?
What the fuck?
“Um, I’m the head of marketing for Serafina’s bakeries now. Would you like a dozen or two of her cupcakes?”
She’s paying me in cupcakes?
Like I’m some third-string gigolo?
“That’s kind of you, but I’m not a big sugary food fan.”
“Oh, well, thanks for an amazing night.”
I stare at her for a protracted moment before nodding.
I grab the rest of my clothes and put them back on in silence.
I feel completely used. Clearly, last night meant far more to me than it did her.
I completely misread it all. I really was just a one-night stand to her while I was already calling her chiquita.
More fool am I.
No man calls a woman chiquita in my family unless she’s the one.
Even in my worst drunken stupors in college, I never made that mistake.
Who knows if I’ll ever find “the one,” but if I do, it feels like the word’s tarnished now.
Wasted on the wrong “the one.”
“Joaquin?”
Is she waiting for my thanks and compliment?
“That was fun. Thanks for—everything.”
We woke just before dawn for another couple rounds, and I discovered how magical her mouth is. She gives the best head I’ve ever gotten. I guess it’ll just be a fond memory now.
I walk toward her, and I don’t know if I should give her a kiss, a hug, or shake her hand. She looks at me like she’s going to choose the handshake.
“I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“Goodbye, Tre.”
I head back to my suite to gather my few belongings, shower, and change.
I’m still mystified by what just happened.
I can’t stop running the entire night over in my mind.
Half of me wants to relive the best sex of my entire life, and the other half wants to do an after-action report to figure out what the fuck went wrong with that mission.
I’m still mulling it all over when I arrive at Tío Enrique and Tía Elle’s place in New Jersey.
I was on autopilot, and I didn’t even realize I was headed here until I pulled through his gate.
I have business to discuss with him, but I think I just want his company.
Tío Enrique—Mamá’s oldest brother—was Papá’s best friend and college roommate.
There’s something about being around him that’s extra reassuring.
I love my time with Tío Luis—Mamá’s second older brother—and Tío Matías—Alejandro’s father and Mamá’s older sister’s husband.
They both have been like bonus dads, but Tío Enrique has always felt the closest to a father since Papá died.
Javier always gravitated toward Tío Luis, and Jorge went to Tío Matías.
Me
May I come in? I’m in the driveway.
I shoot off a text to my tío rather than just walk in unannounced. We had an open-door policy among the unmarried men, but now that I’m the only one left single, that rule’s void. It’s best to let the couples know since no one wants to see them mid—well, what I spent most of last night doing.
TE
Sure. I wasn’t expecting you.
All the more reason for the text.
I park and head inside. My tío and tía are in the living room relaxing.
Tía Elle’s legs are draped across my tío’s lap, with her computer resting on hers.
She’s either writing another psychological thriller or working on edits for one.
Tío Enrique’s reading her latest book on his e-reader.
They’re the picture of perfect domesticity.
“I didn’t think I’d see you today, sobrino.” Nephew.
“I figured we could go over the contracts for the high-rise in Philly.”
I pulled that out of my ass, but I really do have a contract to review.
My tío owns a construction and real estate development company that I pretty much run now.
Mamá’s in commercial real estate. She either helps us buy the land or sell the buildings after we’ve built them.
If it’s not Mamá, then it’s Tía Catalina since she’s in residential real estate and interior design.
Tía Elle looks up from her screen and assesses me. I can only imagine what’s coming next. She’s one of the most astute women I’ve ever met. I know she saw me leave with Tre.
“Did you have a nice night?”
I want to melt into the floor.
“I did.”
“Patrizia’s a nice girl. Well, woman now. I’ve known her since she was born.”
“You have?” I have the worst sinking feeling.
“Yes. You know who she is, right?”
“Vittoria’s friend through Serafina.”
I watch my tío and tía exchange a look that makes me want to hurl. I’m certain whatever I’m about to hear is going to make the hint of a hangover feel like a jackhammer’s drilling a hole in my brain.
“She’s from Boston.”
“Oh?”
I knew that from the start thanks to her accent.
“She’s a Vizzini.”
Motherfucker.
“She’s my goddaughter.”
Puta madre.
English wasn’t enough. Thinking in my first language tells me how fucked I truly am.
“Whose daughter is she?”
“Francesco and Kathleen’s.”
Wonder-fucking-ful.
?Jueputa vida! Fuck my life.
Francesco is the Boston don’s younger brother, and his former capo dei capi—he lived long enough to retire.
He’s married to a New Yorker who happens to be first cousins with the current NYC mob boss’s mother.
That’s a fucking complicated story I only know half the details to.
I can only imagine what the O’Rourkes will have to say if they find out I spent the night with Tre.
“Small world.”
“That it is.”
Tía Elle observes me, and I want to squirm.
She says nothing more, and it’s worse than if she drilled me with questions.
It’s like she knows everything she could want to without asking a single question.
Between being a mom to three adult sons and her past occupation as a Mafia fixer of sorts, she reads people better than most. I always feel like I’m in first grade, and she knows my darkest secrets about blaming my brothers when I forgot to memorize my sight words. She sees right through me.
“You spent most of the reception together. It looked like you hit it off.”
“I thought we had, Tío.”
Two sets of eyebrows shoot up. Only my tío’s are in surprise. My tía looks more like she wants to say, “I could’ve told you what would happen.” Makes me want to ask why she didn’t intervene if she knew Tre would hit it and quit it.
Maybe I should have accepted those cupcakes after all.
I could do with something to sweeten my disposition after this conversation.
Tío takes the hint I don’t want to discuss this further, and I don’t think Tía Elle will offer me any insights.
We leave my tía to keep working before heading into my tío’s study.
“Is there anything I should know, Joaquin? Will Salvatore be bitching at me by dinner?”
“No. If anything, you should call Salvatore and defend my honor. She used me.”
I get a smirk in response. Lovely.
I had my laptop in the trunk of my car, so I grabbed it when I got here.
I flip it open, and my tío and I spend the next two hours reviewing contracts for three projects.
I feel better now that I’ve had some distractions.
But I can’t linger here forever. I’m certain my tío and tía would prefer to enjoy the rest of their day together without interruption.
They make time to be together, but it’s not like they get too many leisurely afternoons alone.
I head back to my place for a shower and a nap.
However, I’m restless. I spend more time looking out my bedroom window than I do with my eyes closed.
After half an hour of replaying last night at the reception over and over, I force myself to think about the coming week.
I have plenty of work to keep me occupied since I was away for so long.
I refuse to revisit what Tre and I did in the hotel suite, or I’ll need another shower—a freezing one.
I doubt that would settle my cock. I’d just wind up rubbing one out—again.