Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
After showering, I head into the kitchen and reheat the leftover lasagna I promised Jake. There’s enough here for two. Antonia always brings way too much food. While the lasagna reheats, I start plating up two garden salads and get some fresh rolls.
Jake walks out, dressed in only his suit pants. No shirt, no shoes, just black pants with the button on them left undone.
Can this man get any hotter? My mouth waters at the sight of him.
“If you keep looking at me like that, Jazzy, I’m going to have you spread out on that dining table. I don’t mind feasting on you forever. Who needs food anyway?” he says, placing his overnight bag on the counter.
“What’s in there?” I ask.
“My mother’s jewelry. Well, what she had in the safes at the estate. There’s still the deposit box to empty.”
“Oh.” I eye the bag. His mother loved her jewelry and had some really nice pieces. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. It’s all yours now. She wanted you to have it,” Jake tells me.
“It’s weird…”
“Why?”
“Because… it just is. I feel like you should hold on to it.”
“Technically, by law, I’m required to hand it over to you. It was what my mother wanted. Is there a safe in this place? If not, I can arrange to have one installed,” he says.
“There’re some here.” There are also panic rooms.
“Okay. We can eat dinner. Then you can sort out what you might want to keep and what you want to put away.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve also taken out an insurance policy, in your name,” Jake tells me.
“You have?”
“It’s not a big deal. This shit is worth a fair bit of money. It should be insured,” he says.
“Is that what you’ve been doing the past couple of days?” Like I said, I haven’t heard from him since the reading of the will.
“I’ve been arranging for my parents’ personal items to be removed from the properties they gave away, and there’s been a lot of meetings with the lawyer, signing papers and shit.”
“And what about The Court? Do you still think they’re coming after you?”
“They are.”
“Have they tried anything?” I wonder how’d Jake feel if I just locked him in one of the panic rooms and never let him leave?
“No. But we can’t let our guard down,” he says. “And I really need to make sure you are always surrounded by security.”
“Oh, I am. Don’t worry.” I laugh. “It was a condition for my father letting me come back here.”
After sliding the lasagna slices next to the servings of salad, I pick up the plates and place them on the dining table. “You want a drink?”
“Water please.”
I grab two bottles of water out of the fridge and sit at the table.
“This smells so good,” Jake says.
“Antonia made it. It’s always good when she makes it.”
“But you reheated it. I bet that made it even better.” Jake grins.
I burst out laughing. “That is the corniest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He lifts one shoulder up and down. “I’m not wrong.”
Silence fills the space as we dig into the food. “This is very domesticated of us,” I say after a few minutes.
“It is,” Jake agrees.
“It’s… odd.”
“You don’t want to be domesticated with me?”
“What would that look like?”
“Us living together?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Well, first of all, I’d buy you a house that you’d never want to leave.
Your dream house. Second, we’d have sex in every single room and there are going to be a lot of rooms. Third, I’d get to wake up every morning with my head between your legs.
Or, if I’m lucky, your mouth wrapped around my dick.
Fourth, we’d get a dog… or a cat. Then, in a few years, we’d start our own little family. Kids.”
I cough. “You want kids? With me?”
“I sure as fuck don’t want them with anyone else.” He scowls.
“This is all a bit fast. Don’t you think?”
“I did say in a few years, Jazzy, not tomorrow.”
“Right.” I roll my eyes, because he’s insane. “How long have you been thinking about this?”
“Since I was about twelve and you gave me my first hard-on, and then my first wet dream.”
“Me? How did I give you that?”
“By existing,” Jake deadpans.
The ping of the elevator rings out through the apartment, and then I hear my name being called. “Jazzy, you here?”
“In here!” I call back. Then I look to Jake, whispering, “Sorry.”
“We’re not giving your family keys to our house,” he says with a smile that tells me he’s joking.
“Oh, thank god you’re here!” My cousin appears in the dining room. “What? Oh… I didn’t know you had company.”
“Frankie, this is Jake. Jake, Frankie.” I introduce them. She was still young when Jake and I stopped hanging around each other.
“You’re the famous Jake?” Frankie lets her eyes roam, and I suddenly get this irrational jealous feeling.
“You should put some clothes on,” I tell Jake, annoyed that his body is too good to look away from. Even for my seventeen-year-old cousin. “What are you doing here, Frankie?”
“Excuse me. It’s nice to meet you, Frankie.” Jake stands and walks away from the table.
“Oh my god, that’s Jake? No wonder you’ve been pining after him,” Frankie whispers.
“I have not been pining,” I deny.
“Frankie, what the hell?” This comes from a new voice, Emilio, right before he appears in front of me in my dining room.
“What’s going on here?” I point my fork between him and Frankie. I know we refer to each other as cousins, but we are not blood related, and these two… Well, they’ve been crushing on each other for as long as I can remember.
“He’s an asshole,” Frankie says.
“I’m an asshole?” Emilio laughs and then says something I don’t understand.
“English,” I remind him. “Sit.” I point to the chairs opposite me. “Both of you, before I call your fathers.” You would think I threatened to kill them with how fast they sit down. I address Frankie first. “Why is he an asshole?”
“He thinks he can tell me what to do. Newsflash, he can’t,” she snarls the last part at Emilio.
“Sure. Now tell her what you were doing.” Emilio smirks. Frankie’s lips flatten into a tight line. Jake walks out and Emilio straightens, his face hard as he glares at Jake. “This him?”
“Yes. Be nice or I really will call Tío E,” I threaten.
“You could do better, Jazzy. But you already know that. You really shouldn’t settle for someone… less-than,” Emilio grunts.
“Emilio,” I groan.
“You’re right. I’ve been telling her the same thing. I’m Jake.”
“Emilio,” my little cousin replies.
“I know who you are,” Jake says, sitting back down and picking his fork up again.
“Is that Aunt Antonia’s lasagna?” Frankie asks.
“It is.” I smile.
“Is there any left?”
“No. Now tell me what you were doing?” I press.
“I can’t. You’ll tell my parents, and then I’ll get grounded for life. Probably the next life too.”
“If it’s that bad, then maybe you shouldn’t be doing it in the first place,” Emilio adds.
“Shut up,” Frankie hisses at him. “You were there too.”
“That’s different,” he says.
“What were you both doing?”
“I was betting. On a fight,” Frankie explains.
“A fight? What kind of fight? And how were you betting?” I ask, because she’s underage.
“An underground fight. She wasn’t supposed to be there,” Emilio says.
“Why were you there?” I look to Emilio, who smiles like the damn Cheshire Cat.
“I was the star of the show.”
“You were fighting? In an underground what? Fight club?” I cock a brow.
“Yes. And I won.” He smiles.
I roll my eyes and turn back to Frankie. “Why were you there?”
“I was hoping to watch this asshole get his ass whooped. And I wanted to make money while it happened.” She grins.
“Except you lost. A lot of fucking money,” Emilio grumbles.
“How much?” I ask.
“Five-hundred grand,” Frankie says. “I really had high hopes he’d lose.”
I don’t know what I’m more shocked over. The amount that she bet, or the fact she bet against Emilio and wanted to watch him get his ass kicked. “How did you even pay that?”
“She couldn’t,” Emilio says. “I paid it for her.”
“And how did you pay it?” Five-hundred grand is a lot of money for a seventeen-year-old.
“Papa has a joint account for us to access.” Emilio shrugs. “He won’t care.”
I highly doubt Tío E won’t care that one of his kids spent five-hundred grand. “Right. So, how did you both end up here?”
Frankie aims an accusatory finger at Emilio. “He’s threatening to tell my dad.”
“You owe me five-hundred grand,” he says. “You can’t pay it, but I’m sure your daddy can bail you out.”
“He isn’t going to rat on you, Frankie. And you…” I point to Emilio now. “…should not be fighting. What would your mother think?”
He grimaces. “She doesn’t need to know.”
“That’s what I thought. So if you rat her out, guess what she’s doing?”
“Telling my mother,” Emilio grunts.
“Exactly. You are both in the wrong. You really shouldn’t be fighting, and you certainly shouldn’t be spending money you don’t have. Especially betting.” Sometimes I hate having to be the responsible one.
“Good chat, Jazzy. Love to stick around, but my dad’s been blowing up my phone for the past thirty minutes. If I don’t show my face soon, he’s going to send a search party.” Emilio stands and walks out.
“You really think he won’t tell?” Frankie asks.
“He’s not going to tell on you, Frankie. When has he ever?” I remind her.
“Never,” she says.
“Exactly.”
“Okay. I’m stopping by your house. Hopefully Aunt Antonia has more lasagna.” Frankie stands and follows Emilio out.
I turn to Jake and find him smiling at me. “What?”
“You’re good at that.”
“At what?”
“Dealing with kids.”
“Being friends with you and Bradley gave me plenty of practice talking stupid teenagers out of doing stupid things.” I laugh.