7
TWO HOURS LATER.
CARMINE MANSION.
Jill closed the bathroom door and locked it. The restroom was one of at least six on the Carmine Mansion’s main floor, and was only slightly smaller than Jill’s first apartment after graduating from the University of Pennsylvania a decade earlier, back when the future seemed bright and boundless, full of promise and potential.
“And now look at you,” Jill whispered to her reflection as she leaned close to the oval mirror framed in ornate silver polished to a shimmering sheen brighter than the full moon that lit up the clear winter night-sky outside the frosted glass window. “You haven’t had sex in years, but you come here dressed in a black fuck-me dress to seduce that revolting Bobby Carmine, destroy sweet Nina’s fairytale wedding because you think you know better than her, maybe because you think you are better than her. Well, you’re not. You never were. Nina was always the fun one, the sexy one, the pretty one. Maybe what’s driving you isn’t guilt but envy. Maybe you want to be Nina, and since you can’t, you want to take away what she has. Maybe you really are a cliché from a daytime soap.”
Jill touched up her red lipstick that looked grotesquely vivid under the hot bathroom lights. She dabbed the corners of her mouth with a tissue, frowned sternly at herself, then smiled even more sternly, the ornate oval-framed mirror making her think of the evil stepmother from Snow White. The thought made her smile for real, and for a moment Jill thought she saw something in her reflection.
Something new.
Something different.
Something dark.
Now Jill gulped back a thickness that had been sitting at the base of her throat, midway between her heart and brain, the two opposing centers of decision-making. She’d been stuck in that halfway-house of the soul ever since Jack had said those two words that still echoed inside her skull, getting louder instead of more distant.
You’re mine.
Jill’s heart started racing again beneath the deep V-neck of her black dress that felt threateningly tight around her boobs and self-consciously snug around her ass. She’d taken a long time to emerge from the hotel room bathroom after putting on the dress she’d picked out for her act of selfless sluttiness that now seemed embarrassingly ridiculous, like how disconnected from reality was she to actually believe she could pull this off in any way, shape, or form?
But the embarrassment had been swept aside by that breathless hot feeling Jill got earlier after walking out of that hotel room bathroom and seeing Jack standing by the window in a dark green evening suit that was off-the-rack but seemed tailored to his masculine V. The color matched the green of his eyes, and although Jack had said nothing when Jill emerged in that little black cocktail dress over black tights, her face painted like a French street-whore from the 1920s, Jack’s narrowed gaze and grumpy frown revealed something that made Jill’s pussy tingle beneath her panties.
He was jealous.
She saw it clearer than sunlight, brighter than moonlight, shinier than starlight.
The mere suggestion that Jill had come here intending to sleep with another man had driven Jack into the most inexplicably possessive rage, an obsessive jealousy that was so clearly written on his expression that it was puzzling at first. After all, Jack had been all swagger and coolness up to that point. He was obviously a man who knew his way around women, knew himself around women. Except he’d been blindsided by his own reaction, Jill had thought when she stepped out of that bathroom and was greeted by a green-eyed gaze that seemed to back up that shockingly possessive declaration that she was his, all his, only his.
And then Jill understood why Jack couldn’t hide the jealousy behind his take-it-or-leave-it coolness.
He’d never been jealous before.
Never given a shit about whether another man might steal his woman.
Because maybe Jack had never wanted a woman like he seemed to want her.
The realization had sent a thrilling tingle through Jill’s dolled-up body, her pussy tightening in an almost primitive way, like it was reacting favorably to the prospect of being owned by this growly grumpy man who’d carjacked her in the afternoon and then by sunset had declared she was his.
You’re mine.
They’d barely spoken on the drive over to the Carmine Mansion. Jack made no attempt to backtrack or apologize for what he’d said with a ferocity that couldn’t be faked, a hunger that couldn’t be hidden, a desire that couldn’t be denied. The tension in her little red Honda hatchback had been thick enough to slice, and when Jack finally looked up from his phone and informed her in a stiff businesslike tone that Kay Steffen was now a person of interest in his mysterious mission to track down some guy named Diego, Jill was relieved to talk about something other than the unspeakable intensity of that moment when Jack seemed about to leap through that half-open bathroom door as Jill watched him with a dangerously dark mix of fear and excitement, not sure why she hadn’t slammed the door shut immediately.
“Do you work for the U.S. government?” Jill had asked as she drove them towards the lighted mansion in the distance. She glanced at Jack’s clean-shaved profile, thought of those ridges of inked muscle hiding beneath his dark green evening suit. “Like a dark ops type thing?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Jack narrowed his eyes, darting his gaze left and right with fake shiftiness that made her smile. He grinned, then shook his head. “Nah, we’re just a private contractor. Nothing too glamorous. Mostly we do mundane security-type jobs.”
“Chasing a murderous outlaw on a motorcycle during winter doesn’t seem too mundane,” Jill had pointed out as they neared the Carmine Estate gates, where there was a line of cars waiting to be checked by the gate-guards.
“Neither is talking your way into a mafia wedding from which you’ve been un-invited with extreme prejudice, Miss Former Maid-of-Honor.” Jack had glanced over at her as Jill slowed the car to a crawl, joining the line of expensive-looking vehicles waiting to be checked and cleared. “I presume the gate-guards have a guest-list and we aren’t on it.”
Jill had nodded, smiling tightly as she crept the car towards the brightly lit gate-check. The night was clear and cold, with a blustery wind that was clearly making the gate-guards grumpy in their black puffy jackets and matching wool watch-caps. They weren’t carrying machine-guns or grenade-launchers, but Jill guessed they were armed beneath those puffy jackets. The jackets were zipped all the way up, though, which meant they probably weren’t expecting trouble.
Which would back up what Jill knew about Bobby Carmine’s branch of the family not being a major mafia power. After all, Bobby Carmine was connected to the Carmine Family only through his mother, not his father. From what Nina had told her, Bobby’s dad had been a deadbeat loser who was shot dead robbing a liquor store fifteen years ago. The guy had never married Bobby’s mother, so Bobby kept his mother’s Carmine name but didn’t get the pure Italian blood. It was Bobby’s uncle Romeo Carmine who ran the Carmine Mafia Operations—which, best Jill could tell from her online research which included searching through the WESTLAW database of every American court-case transcript, had mostly been illegal gambling and loan-sharking operations in the greater Philadelphia area. Of course, sports gambling was now legal in Pennsylvania and most of the Northeast, which probably hit the Carmine Family’s operations pretty hard.
Though it certainly didn’t seem like the Carmines were hurting for money, Jill thought now as she examined the cut-crystal soap dispenser on the Italian marble bathroom counter. The Carmine Mansion itself was a study in lavishness, with white marble pillars fronting a sprawling structure made of blackstone. The place was immaculately maintained, with broad expanses of lawn that were bare now in winter but would be lush and green once spring came around. Everything was financed by Bobby’s uncle, Romeo Carmine, Jill knew. Nina had mentioned that Romeo supported his younger sister, Bobby’s single mother, who’d never married, never had any other children.
But although Romeo Carmine paid for everything, took care of Bobby’s mother like a protective older brother should, Nina had mentioned that Romeo wouldn’t let Bobby join the Family Business—which was why Bobby had been trying to build his own little mini mafia empire. Jill hadn’t gotten much more than that out of Nina before the whole wedding thing came up and Jill got cancelled from Nina’s life. Still, it was something that stood out in Jill’s mind.
And it stood out even more once Jill and Jack made it past the gatekeepers into the high-walled grounds of the Carmine Estate.
“Hi,” Jill had said, rolling down her window and smiling up at the gruff-looking gate-guard who’d asked to see her invitation and a photo ID so he could check her name on the guest-list. “I’m Jill Hennessy. I”m not on the list, but can you call Nina on the phone or walkie or whatever? Tell her Jill says she’s sorry.”
The guard frowned beneath his black wool watch-cap. His nose was flat like a boxer’s who’d been punched in the face too many times. He bent down and peered past Jill towards Jack, who offered a friendly-enough head-nod. Then the guard grunted, tugged at his jacket-collar to find the microphone that matched his in-ear headset, and mumbled something incomprehensible into it. He waited for several long moments, then grunted again and nodded towards Jill.
“She says answer your phone.” The guard stood there like a puffy gargoyle.
Jill’s phone was already ringing when she fished it out of her little black clutch. Nina was excited like a little girl, which was a relief at first, then heartbreaking when Jill remembered why she’d come.
“I’m so glad you came!” Nina had squealed eleven minutes later once the gate-guards checked the car and patted Jack down for weapons and waved them towards the guest parking lot, which was decorated with strings of diamond-white wedding lights. “Oh, I was so depressed after we fought, Jill. Angry at first, but then so, so depressed. But I knew you’d come around. Bobby didn’t think so, but I said you would eventually. I didn’t think you’d show up at the wedding, though. But I’m thrilled you came.” She’d smiled at Jack, who’d been standing silently by Jill’s side, his arm around her waist, big hand resting on the side of her hip with a familiarity that sent tingles through Jill’s entire body, making her feel sexy in a way she didn’t think was possible. “Hi, I’m Nina!”
“Nice to meet you, Nina,” Jack had said with a warm smile, taking his arm away from Jill’s waist long enough to shake Nina’s hand. Within seconds his hand was back in that possessive position, his big palm sliding across her lower back, tantalizingly close to the curve of her ass, fingertips dragging their way along the tight satin of her black dress in a way that made Jill wet beneath her panties, that uncharacteristic feeling of sexiness taking over until it really felt like they were together beneath those diamond-white wedding lights. “I’m Jack.”
Nina had cocked her head to the left and closed one eye. “Your name is Jack? Really? Jack and Jill?” She grinned to show new veneers on her upper front teeth, two of which had been cracked and discolored the last time Jill had seen sweet Nina.
But at least Nina still had her teeth, which meant her drug use hadn’t completely sucked all the vital minerals from her body. Shit, maybe Bobby and Nina really were going to stick with rehab after the wedding, Maybe they’d even started detox. Maybe they were already clean, Jill had thought hopefully.
The hope didn’t last long.
“Hey,” came Bobby Carmine’s voice from behind Jill out in the parking lot, making her jump as he placed his hand on her shoulder.
“Hey,” came Jack’s sharp response, his arm whipping up from where it had been wrapped around Jill’s waist and swatting Bobby’s unwelcome hand off Jill’s shoulder. The movement was breathtakingly fast, and before Jill could react, Jack had turned all the way around and had placed his body between hers and Bobby’s. “Watch it, buddy.”
“I’m not your fucking buddy,” snarled Bobby Carmine, and when Jill looked at his hopped-up eyes she knew Bobby was most certainly not clean, which meant Nina wasn’t clean—or at least wouldn’t be for long. Not with a partner who was clearly hooked on meth or speed or some other drug with an unpronounceable name. “Who let you two in here? You aren’t on the guest list.”
“Bobby, Jill’s my best friend!” Nina’s sweet smile had disappeared, and her entire body language changed along with her expression as she pleaded like a traumatized child. “She’s—”
“She’s a meddling cunt who tried to get you to dump me,” Bobby growled, standing to his full height, which was about two inches shorter than Jack, who was still positioned squarely in front of Jill like a protective wall of immovable muscle. “Get the fuck off my property before I have you thrown out. Now. Both of you. Go, before I—”
The rest of the sentence didn’t make it past Bobby’s snarling lips because Jack’s hand was suddenly around Bobby’s throat.
“Before you what?” Jack had whispered as Bobby’s light gray eyes started to bug out. “Before you call my lady a nasty word like that again? Because that’s never going to happen. I’ll rip your fucking throat out before you disrespect my woman like that again. Are we clear?”
“Jack, let him go!” Jill leapt out from behind Jack and tried to pull his arm away, but it was like trying to uproot a bridge from its foundation. “Jack!”
Bobby was gasping and gurgling, one hand desperately trying to break Jack’s vise-like grip, the other hand feverishly digging into his jacket pocket like he was either reaching for a gun or a phone. Thankfully Jack released him before Bobby found what he was looking for, sending the gagging Bobby stumbling backwards in shocked relief.
“You’re a fucking dead man,” Bobby had gasped after catching his breath and straightening his tie. “You can’t put your fucking hands on me! Especially not in my own damn house!”
Jill clamped her eyes shut tight, sighing when she felt Jack’s body stiffen like he was cursing himself for losing his cool to a rush of protective anger. She was about to ask Jack to apologize when another man’s voice came through to them across the cold parking lot.
“This isn’t your damn house, Bobby,” came the man’s voice, silky-smooth like fine dark chocolate. Jill stared as a tall, broad-shouldered older man strolled towards them, a burning cigarette held loosely between his long fingers, languid smile on his dark red lips. He puffed on his cigarette and exhaled, the smoke swirling around his wavy black hair slicked with oil that made it glisten darkly under the decorative string-lights. “It’s my fucking house, and you best never forget that, Bobby.” He glanced coolly at Jill, his lazy gray eyes shining with wolf-like intensity, resting on her face for a long moment before flicking towards Jack for the briefest of glances, moving on with calculated casualness, like the man had been already been studying Jack without looking at him directly. His gaze was back on Bobby now, who was shifting in his Italian leather shoes, grinding his teeth and glowering at the older man with an odd mixture of rage and submission. “And nobody’s killing anyone on my property. Especially when you’re the one who did wrong, Bobby.”
Bobby whipped his gaze towards the older man, who Jill guessed was Romeo Carmine. He looked early fifties but seemed fitter than most men half his age. “What the fuck, Uncle Romeo? This asshole had his hands around my damn throat!”
Romeo Carmine had cast another cool glance at the silent Jack before flicking his burning cigarette carelessly in Bobby’s direction, who was jumpy enough to sidestep it before it landed on his white jacket. “You called his woman a cunt, Bobby. What did you expect was going to happen, huh?”
Bobby flashed his pale eyes at his uncle, then stepped on the still-burning cigarette and ground it beneath his shoe with far more force than necessary. “Are you seriously taking this guy’s side over mine? Over your own blood, Uncle Romeo?”
Romeo Carmine grunted. “My own blood. Right. I guess you did crawl out of my idiot sister’s vagina, so technically we share some genes.” He grunted again, his heavily muscled shoulders jerking upwards with a single scoffing laugh. “But you aren’t a true Carmine. Too much of your loser dad’s blood in your veins.” He’d smiled warmly at Jill, showing perfectly aligned white teeth that were polished well enough that if he was a regular smoker, the nicotine stains didn’t show. “I’m Romeo Carmine.”
“Hi, Mister Carmine,” Jill had said, taken aback by the man’s sudden switch from cold spitefulness towards his nephew to warm welcome towards her and Jack. She shook Romeo’s outstretched hand, then glanced at Jack and smiled back at Romeo. “I’m Jill Hennessy, and this is—”
“Jack Wagner, yes, I know,” said Romeo without missing a beat as he ended their handshake and offered his hand to Jack, who shook it firmly, without hesitation, looking unflinchingly into Romeo’s gray eyes. “Gate security ran your name and face through our systems. Thank you for your service in the Army, Mister Wagner. And thank you for not using all your Delta-trained skills on my idiot nephew.” He flicked his gray-eyed gaze in Bobby’s direction, who had most certainly flinched at the revelation that Jack was a Delta Force veteran. “Sometimes I wish this country had mandatory military service. Then maybe we wouldn’t have so many of our young men turning into pussy-livered junkies.”
Bobby visibly bristled at Romeo’s provocatively disrespectful words. Nina shifted uneasily in her white designer heels, her stockinged legs tight together to stop the cold air swirling through the parking lot from riding up her evening gown. Romeo didn’t look at either of them. His gaze remained locked on Jack’s, their hands still gripped together in that firm handshake which Jill noticed was tight enough that Romeo’s veins were bulging thick like snakes along the sides of his wrist.
“You have access to military databases?” Jack released Romeo’s hand, narrowed his gaze, then glanced past Romeo towards where two thick-looking men in black suits and black shirts and black ties had strolled up to flank their boss. “That’s pretty impressive. Is it legal?”
Romeo grinned. “We’ve got a background-check company that uses Artificial Intelligence to run searches on all publicly available information and make educated guesses. It’s pretty accurate, and can tell if someone’s been in the military, even which branch. We don’t have access to any details, of course.” He wagged a long index finger in Jack’s direction. “But I give you credit for having the guts to challenge me.” He winked at Jill. “I like him. He has balls.” Romeo glanced back at Jack, his grin relaxing to a tight smile. “Perhaps my nephew can learn something from you.”
Jack returned the tight smile, then shrugged coolly, like he was smart enough to pick up the oddly provocative edge in Romeo’s tone and not take the bait. “I’m here as Jill’s guest to her best friend’s wedding. Your nephew was way out of line with his language, but I guess I lost my cool a little. It’s probably best not to choke out the groom if you want to be invited to the rest of the wedding festivities.”
“You were never fucking invited to begin with,” snapped Bobby, his neck straining like it was spasming from too many drugs or perhaps not enough. He glared at Nina, his long face stretching even longer as he scowled. “Tell them, Nina. Tell them what your so-called best friend said about me when she bailed on being your maid of honor. Tell Uncle Romeo how she wanted you to dump me for your own good. Six months ago you hated Jill. Now suddenly everyone’s friends again? Just like that?”
Nina blinked her blue-shaded eyelids like a panicked butterfly, her lips moving silently like she was desperately looking for words that wouldn’t escalate the situation.
But then Romeo Carmine waved his hands and shook his head, smiling at Nina and Jill and chuckling. “That’s how women interact with each other, Bobby. Drama and emotion, claws and conflict. It’s too sophisticated for us men to understand, and the truth is we’re not biologically wired to understand. If Nina says they’ve made up, it’s good enough for me. They can stay.” He glanced at Jack again, then gestured with his head towards his two black-suited bodyguards. “But just to make sure nobody loses their cool again, these two peacekeepers will stay close to our military hero. Consider them your hall-monitors for the evening. Now, you kids stay out of trouble, all right?”
Romeo had walked away without another word, striding between the two barrel-sized bodyguards and disappearing around a tall hedge of evergreens lining the path to the main house. Bobby had stormed off immediately afterwards, and Nina had hurried off behind him after casting an apologetic smile at Jill.
And then suddenly Jill and Jack were alone in the parking lot, those two silent guards staring sullenly at them like the Sphinxes of Egypt. A chilly wind started to blow, making Jill’s shoulders shiver beneath the red wool wrap she’d knitted herself specially for this night.
This night which was most certainly not going according to plan, Jill thought now as she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror and pursed her red lips and flashed a white smile of relief because she knew that she’d never have been able to go through with that original plan which had seemed so clever and daring when she was coming up with it but was now exposed as ridiculously unrealistic, pathetically optimistic, ludicrously far-fetched.
But then Jill took a step back so she could see her body in the mirror, and suddenly that sensation of being sexy rippled through her curves, bringing forth the strangest thought.
That maybe things were going exactly to plan.
Just not her plan.
Maybe not anybody’s plan.