Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Deuce
Not one word is spoken during the drive from downtown Heaven to my house on the north side of town, closer to the university.
It’s a rambling old Victorian-looking home with a wraparound porch, rosebushes that have been blooming longer than I’ve been alive, and more bedrooms than I know what to do with. I actually grew up in this house.
My father bought it when he first got the teaching job at the university, long before housing prices went crazy.
He tried to sell it five years ago, claiming it was way too much house for him to take care of.
I couldn’t bear to let the place go, so I took it over and moved him into a small condo in town where he can walk to everything he needs.
I didn’t realize how convenient that would be until he was diagnosed with cancer six months ago.
Now I can keep an eye on him and make sure he’s taken care of while I work just one block over at my boutique.
We pull up the long driveway lined with tulips and daffodils. They’re just about done blooming. Once the hot and humid summer months are in full swing, they’ll go dormant and come back next spring. Valentina sits forward, her head on a swivel, taking in the property.
“You live…here?”
I can’t tell from her tone what she thinks of the place.
I put the car in park at the front of the house and get out.
We both reach for her bag in the back, but I get there first. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t fight me for it.
Probably because she’s too busy picking her way across the walkway in her heels to the front porch, leaves and flower petals and spiky sweet gums littering the path.
I dash around her and unlock the door, putting her bag down. “Stay here.”
Valentina jams me with her side, basically hip-checking me like a hockey player to get inside before me.
“Fuck! Watch it, woman,” I snap, pushing her right back so I enter the house first.
I need to make sure no one’s figured out she’s here. Now that the mafia life has reached me, I have to revert to all the skills I was taught during those fraught summers living with Bettina. Never enter a house without giving it a good sweep first.
Valentina snorts. “What are you gonna do? Take ’em out with a karate chop in your fancy suit?” Then she winces and bends down to grab her ankle.
I roll my eyes. Serves her right for wearing stilettos at nine in the morning. I have a scathing comeback poised on my tongue, but Valentina springs into action, straightening up and dashing away from me, ankle perfectly fine. I watch her dart inside my own house, my mouth agape.
“Shit!” I follow after her, remembering to lock the door behind me.
She’s already gone, darting this way and that, not making a single creak of noise on my original hardwood floors. It’s like she’s weightless, despite being five foot ten. And that’s before the stilettos.
I trail after her, watching her enter rooms she has no business being in, mostly because my personal life is spread all over.
Pictures, throw blankets, dirty clothes.
Hell, she’s already hit the stairs, scampering up with every intention of clearing the second floor where my bedroom is.
I sprint after her, suddenly desperate that she doesn’t enter my bedroom.
Can’t a man have one room that’s off-limits to his mortal enemy?
I get my hand on her elbow right as she gets to my closed bedroom door. “I got this one.”
She looks down pointedly at my hand. I let her go and she moves away, off to inspect the other rooms that probably have an inch of dust covering the random furniture in them. I clear my room and meet her back at the top of the stairs.
“Clear,” she says sharply, always the perfect little soldier.
“Let me show you your room,” I say, biting back irritation at this whole situation.
She follows behind me down the hall, which I only know because I can still smell the scent of her: fruity shampoo, spicy perfume, and a whiff of arrogance.
I push open the door to the only guest room I have furnished.
Its four walls are covered with blue hydrangea wallpaper, more crown molding than the White House, and a four-poster bed you could swing from if you hung the ropes correctly sits in the middle.
Valentina looks around the room, then back to me, eyes wide, ruby-red lips open in a small little “o” that should disgust me but does the opposite.
“This is…” She pauses, as if searching for the words. “This is something. You surprise me, Deuce.”
“You’re welcome,” I say wryly, pointing out that the only correct response would have been to thank me for opening up my home to her.
She tosses her ponytail behind her shoulder and folds her arms across her chest. Clearly, she doesn’t give a flying fuck about manners. It’s going to make her time here in the South very interesting.
“Honestly, I may have to put a lock on your door.” Her irritation at my threat is clear, which makes my lips twitch with a held-back smile. “I’m half afraid you’ll knife me again as soon as I let my guard down.”
She huffs through her nose and drops her arms. “Oh, that was seventeen-year-old me. Forty-year-old me uses firearms.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Though I have dabbled in poisons and those can be so much fun.”
She’s honestly terrifying. Almost as scary as the woman who birthed me.
I need to keep her focused on why she’s here. And possibly remind her that Bettina will want to find me still alive when this whole stupid situation is over.
“We need to come up with a backstory.”
“I need water.”
I wave a hand in the direction of the bathroom right next door.
“I’m not a cat, Deuce. I don’t drink from the faucet.”
She folds her arms across her chest again. I do the same. We glare at each other. Damn, this could go on all day. I sigh and drop my arms, moving toward the stairs.
“I don’t have time for this, so let’s go downstairs and get our backstory figured out.”
She follows me, not saying a word until we’ve reached the kitchen and I’ve pulled down a crystal glass from the cabinet. She goes to fill it from the sink and I stop her with a single hand up in the air.
“There’s a pitcher of filtered water in the refrigerator.”
She smirks. “So bougie.”
I roll my eyes and run my hands down my suit. “I care about my temple.”
She gives me a slow once-over I feel from my leather wingtips to the top of my perfectly coiffed hair.
Women always like what they see when I’m standing in front of them.
I’ve even scored a few modeling gigs for the various online suit retailers.
I know what I got. I’m basically all the good qualities from both of my parents and none of the bad.
Valentina, on the other hand, makes a loud retching noise and turns to grab the water out of the refrigerator. My chest deflates.
Goddammit, she’s annoying.
I brush past her and have a seat in a wingback chair that’s more style than comfort in the formal sitting room at the front of the house. Valentina sits on the love seat, sipping her water.
“Look, neither one of us wants this to be happening, but we have to face it head-on.”
“Agreed. I’ll act the Southern belle for a few days and wait out Bettina. I intend to move into my own place once she’s back in New York and busy.”
I’m already shaking my head. “Absolutely not. You’re staying here.”
Valentina sets her glass on the side table with a sharp click. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. I’m leaving in a couple days.”
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “I repeat: absolutely not. What would Bettina say if you defy her orders?”
“Who cares? She’s busy in New York. She’ll never know.”
I sit back and give her a lazy smile. “The minute you leave, I’ll have her on the phone.”
Valentina gasps. “You wouldn’t!”
My chuckle is soft. “Oh, wouldn’t I?”
Valentina looks so annoyed I can’t help but mentally pat myself on the back. God, it feels good to piss her off. Might even be my new favorite thing.
“I hope next time you buy bread it’s all just end pieces.”
I roll my eyes and ignore the harmless barb.
“So, let’s get this backstory going. You’re an old family friend and we’ve been in contact recently. You flew out here to stay with me because you just can’t stay away from all this.”
There’s that retching noise again.
“I need time to see if we’re compatible. We’re dating, but not super serious.” I carry on despite her rather physical display of disgust. “Be together enough to sell the idea, but not so much they’re all shocked when we break up.”
An idea hits me like a knife to the ribs. “And lawdamercy, no kissing!”
Valentina’s entire face spasms into a grimace. Mine does too at the thought of dating this woman in any real way.
“Definitely no kissing,” she practically growls.
I frown, asking what I’ve been wondering since she stepped out of that hotel bedroom and cursed at the sight of me. “What happened to your voice?”
Her gaze snaps up to mine from where she’d been eyeing my family portraits on the opposite wall. “What happened to your face?”
My eyes roll so far back in my head I see my thoughts. “Seriously. You didn’t use to sound like that. Your voice is so hoarse you’d make Macy Gray jealous.”
She scoffs, crossing her leg over her knee, stiletto swinging in the air just like Bettina.
“Some motherfuckface tried to strangle me about ten years ago. I knifed him—no surprise there—but then had my men take out his whole crew that same night. One guy slipped past our cleanup and ended up on the news. Surprised you didn’t hear about it. ”
A pang of…something…hits my chest. The guy must have gotten quite a drop on her if it changed her voice like this. “I don’t really keep up with that stuff.”
Valentina sits forward, pinning me with her intent stare. “What do you mean? You own a boutique in a little town. One I assume that launders a lot of money?”
My jaw hits the floor. “Excuse me?”
She mocks me, her voice pitched super high. “Excuse me?” Her voice drops back to normal. “What are you? Some kind of Southern lady having the vapors? This is me you’re talking to. I don’t narc.”
“Neither. Do. I,” I manage to grit out between my clenched teeth. “And my boutique is not part of a money-laundering scheme. It’s a legit business.”
Valentina stares at me for a few seconds, evaluating if what I said is true. “Well, that’s disappointing. I don’t see why you don’t use that storefront to your advantage.”
I scoff, hands immediately pulling at my cuffs like I always do when I’m disturbed and trying not to show it.
“I don’t need to engage in illegal activity to be a success.
I do just fine selling suits to those with deep pockets and good taste.
” I give her a once-over. “Which, by the way, those clothes aren’t going to work here. ”
Now it’s Valentina’s turn to gasp in outrage. “Excuse me?”
I mock her right back, though I dare say my impression of her is way more spot on than hers was of me. She cuts me a scathing look. I stick my tongue out at her.
We really are children. I have no idea what my mother was thinking putting us together alone in the same house for any length of time.
The doorbell rings, jolting us both from our hatred staredown. I stand, buttoning my suit jacket again. I’m not expecting company, but this is the South. Neighbors stop by uninvited all the time. Except this neighbor is now banging on the door.
“We’ll go shopping tomorrow for something more appropriate. My girl Maggie will fix you up.” With that tossed over my shoulder, I head for the front door, only for a male voice to announce himself before I even get there.
“Dude, it’s me. Open up!”
Valentina jumps to her feet behind me. “Shit,” she hisses.
I, for one, am relieved. This is the perfect time to practice our new roles. I swing the door open to find Silas, my best friend, and his wife standing on my doorstep.
“Is the house on fire? Dog fall down a well?” I drawl.
Silas ignores my very funny attempt at humor and simply pushes his way into my house, Betsy following behind. “Why were you looking for me all over town this morning? Is everything okay?”
He skids to a halt when he sees Valentina, causing Betsy to slam into his back.
“What the actual fuck, frat boy?” she grouses, rubbing her second-trimester baby belly.
I walk right past them both to Valentina, sling my arm around her waist, and pull her in tight to my side. The woman is stiff as a board, and she fucking growls under her breath over my manhandling, but so far, I don’t feel any knives piercing my skin.
“Silas. Betsy. I’d like you to meet Landry. My girlfriend.”
Valentina pinches the shit out of my thigh where her hand is wedged between us. To my credit, I barely flinch.
I guess I just expect pain wherever Valentina is concerned.