Chapter 35
“So, how do you want to handle old man Dimakos?” Tore called out from his study while I wiped my back and neck dry in the en suite bathroom.
“When we get him, hand him over to the capos,” Vinny said. “With the number of men we’ve lost because of him, they’ll each want a limb.”
“The question’s not what we do with him, but how we get him. The man’s more slippery than an eel. Years of hide-and-seek. Barely anyone sees him in public these days.”
I, too, had some grievances to work out with Dimakos. Blood spilled was blood owed, and I’d bled my fair share because of him.
I slipped on a clean black shirt. The fabric rubbed against several scars—most received while behind bars.
The worst included a long slash over my shoulder that itched from time to time, courtesy of Giambrone’s men, and a scraggly stab wound that still ached after overexertion by Dimakos’ men. Both had landed me in the hospital.
“We go through his son,” I said.
“You jealous he stole your bride?”
“Hardly. He’ll just be the fish we use to reel Ilias in.”
“If we can find them.”
I sprayed on some cologne, grabbed a small towel, and opened the door. “If we can’t track Dimakos directly, try going through Michaela. Seven years ago, she was close with her twin brother and younger sister. I doubt that’s changed. She won’t go long without reaching out to them.”
Tore clicked his tongue. “That’s why you’re the boss.”
“I think both of you are forgetting the most pressing matter,” Vinny said, his leg kicked up over his knee, fingers crossed.
I hadn’t. Ainsley never left my mind. During my years in prison, her letters were my lifeline.
Her words were my voice of reason when the going got rough.
She kept me grounded when I felt on the edge of losing who I used to be.
She kept me company when I was alone, surrounded by people with little to no honor or loyalty.
She’d been my constant companion, the friend I didn’t know I needed until she’d become an essential part of me.
We’d been more than friends, yet not, but that was when we’d been worlds apart.
I picked up a framed photo of Tore, Ainsley, and the kids from their trip to the Polynesian Islands two years ago. Her smile lit up the photograph—full of life and possibilities.
I’d resolved to let her go once I got out.
She deserved better. She was young, smart, and driven, the kind of person I could only ruin and taint.
I’d been nearly twice her age when we first met.
I almost became a father figure to her. And now I’d fucked her, and myself, because I wanted seconds and thirds.
I wanted everything she had to give, but she wasn’t my woman. She could never be my woman.
“I want to look at other candidates.”
“Renzo, we’re limited on time, and you need this contained,” Vinny said. “She’s the one.”
“Just let us do the talking, cugi. We’ll get this sorted out between you two. You won’t even have to talk to each other after today if you don’t want to.”
“What exactly are you getting at?” I asked Tore, toweling my hair.
“We all know you two can’t get along. Doesn’t seem like seven years of distance helped that much.”
If only he knew the truth. I thought about her too much. I knew her too well.
I tossed the towel at his head, enjoying his muffled grunt, before he passed it on to Vinny. He casually swatted it to the floor, not looking up from his phone.
“That was years ago. Things change.”
“Well, Anzy knows how to hold grudges better than you do, so I doubt it. It’s going to be hard enough getting her to say yes without you opening your mouth.”
“If I wanted this, I’d get her to agree easily.”
“I feel a bet coming along.” Tore rubbed his hands together.
“Weren’t you refusing just minutes ago?” Vinny casually asked me.
“I’m not agreeing either.”
“Agreeing to what?” My head snapped toward her voice. Ainsley stood in the opened doorway to Tore’s study.
Instead of the earlier scrubs, she wore the same baggy pants and tight tank from this morning. That top hugged her breasts like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. I’d seen everything she had, yet it teased me with the desire for another look.
I scratched at my forehead and cleared my throat. “I’ve got a proposal to discuss with you.”
“Oh?” She sauntered inside without further invitation and kicked the door shut behind her.
There was a strength in her crossed-arm pose that I’d thought was faked until that interrogation downstairs, but there was also an edge of vulnerability in the way her body language tilted away from me, as if expecting a blow.
Her face was bare of makeup, yet, if possible, she looked even more striking than last night.
“Boss here needs a wife,” Tore burst out.
“Oh?” Ainsley’s brows furrowed. “Who’s the martyr?”
“You.”
“Me?” she asked after a beat of silence.
“Yes.”
She glanced between the three of us. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“They’re not.” Vinny stayed in his chair, his phone upside down on an armrest.
Years ago, I thought Ainsley was plain—just a kid with an attitude problem—all brown-eyed, and dirty-blonde-haired, without much charm. Not anymore. There wasn’t an angle of her I wanted to look away from.
“What kind of messed-up game are you playing?” Her hands fell to her hips, glaring me down. “Are you all really that bored?”
“He just needs your help for a bit.” Tore slid between us. “All temporary.”
“Temporary?” she asked with a sardonic laugh, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Fake. One hundred percent.”
“Wow.”
“He’s in a sticky situation, and you’re the best option. Two years at most…” Tore kept going.
“Just stop.”
“A year. No, six months.”
“Stop!” She headed for the door. “Find someone else. I won’t do it.”
“Come on, Anzy,” Tore pleaded. “It’s just an act to get the Giambrones off our backs.”
“Don’t care.” She waved at us and reached for the doorknob.
“What are you afraid of?” I called after her. “You were very willing last night.”
The way she stopped cold sent a thrill down my spine. Slowly, she turned around, her teeth visibly clenched, fists balled.
“You’re an ass.”
I smirked. “Never claimed otherwise.”
“What happened last night?” Vinny leaned forward.
“Vinny. Tore. Get out.”
“What do you mean, last night?” Tore asked. “We had your homecoming last night.”
“Tore, leave,” Ainsley urged, never breaking eye contact. “Please. Now.”
Both obeyed, Tore a bit hesitantly. “You’ll tell me if something’s wrong?”
“Later.”
The instant the door closed, she stormed toward me. Her hand swung back to slap me. I caught it, mid-swing.
“Now, now, that’s not very nice.”
“What the hell are you playing at?” She tugged her hand free. “First, I’m a mistake. Now, I’m wife material? Am I just a big joke to you?”
“You’re anything but.”
Her chocolate eyes flicked between mine, a blend of desperation and confusion etching itself between her brows.
“What is it you want with me? I don’t understand.”
“If I had my way, nothing.”
“Right,” she bit out. “Everything a girl wants to hear.”
I placed a finger beneath her chin. “You deserve better.”
“I know I do. That’s why we agreed last night was a mistake.”
The subtle pout of her lower lip was a temptation. I thumbed it. Each time I tried to pull away from her, she dragged me back into her orbit. My resistance was already cracking. “What if I want to switch things back up?”
“So you can pull the reins again when things heat up? No thanks.” She wrenched her face away. That fire of hers just made me burn hotter.
“I’ll make it worth your while.” I bent closer to her ear. “You don’t have to always be this stubborn.”
“Try not being a standoffish prick. Then we can talk about my stubbornness.”
I twisted her around and pulled her back to my front.
No matter how much I resisted, this felt right.
This was where she belonged, against me, my body warming hers, her honeysuckle scent in my lungs.
My chin brushed the top of her head. My hand slid down the outside of her shirt, pausing to tweak her nipples through her thin, lacy bra.
They pebbled, hardening beneath my fingertips.
She gasped, a sound so innocent compared to her inner strength. I nibbled at her neck.
“What are you doing?”
“Exploring,” I breathed into her ear. “It’s what you wanted. It was the purpose of those photos in your bikini, wasn’t it? To give me a view of what I couldn’t have and what you wanted to give.”
“Wasn’t I just a mistake?”
“Who said it first?”
She tried to shove me away, but I pulled her closer and tilted her head further back against me.
“This is just more manipulation.”
“Is it working?” My hand slipped down her belly as I kissed her collarbone.
“No,” she said with a moan.
“What’s it going to take for you to agree?”
My hand delved into her loose pants. They weren’t the sexiest clothing to admire her in, but they offered an ease of access that tight jeans didn’t.
“I need you, Ainsley. You have no idea how much.”
Her mound was bare and smooth. My fingers continued lower, spreading her lips, stroking through her arousal. I teased her little bud, loving how she jerked and grabbed at my hand.
“Be my wife.”
With the words said out loud, I liked the sound of it.
My wife. Something she shouldn’t be. Something this situation made possible, even if it was temporary and fake.
I stroked and stroked, while dipping a finger in and out of her tight heat.
Her head fell back against my chest, her breath strangled. I wanted to hear her climax.
“That’s it. Give in. Say yes.”
“You…didn’t want…me…this morning.”
Such a pretty lie. If only it were true, it would make everything easier. There wouldn’t be this hard knot in my chest whenever she invaded my thoughts, or whenever I saw her.
“It doesn’t have to be for long,” I coaxed, plunging my fingers deeper, despite how hard it was to say those words. “A year or two at most. Then you’d be free to be with whoever you choose.”
She jerked away from my hold and shoved me. I tripped a step back, the loss of her like the sudden loss of my balance.
“You think that’s what I want? Who do you think I am? You think that I’d accept just any man’s touch?” She slapped me. “I have more self-respect than that.”
My cheek prickled, and I smiled. “I know.”
“Stop. Just stop.”
“So, you don’t want to be my wife?”
“What I want is what we had. Not these games. Not the lies. I want my friend back. I want the man behind the pen who made me learn to forgive and believe in myself again. I want to be happy when I think of you.”
“What if I give you that?”
Her scoff was weak and humorless. “You’ve been back less than a day, and you’ve already whiplashed me so hard my head hurts. I wouldn’t believe you if you promised me the moon.”
Her cream sheened on my finger. Eyes stuck on hers, I sucked it off, the taste of her exactly like I’d imagined: sharp but sweet with a little musk. Delicious and problematic. One taste was never going to be enough. Her throat pulled and fell in a slow gulp.
“I need you, Ainsley.”
“For a charade. Marriage means something to me. You know that. I won’t fake something with you.”
“Then go on a date with me. Decide after.”
Her mouth fell open. Her forehead creased.
“I need a wife, fake or otherwise, but I’d rather it be someone I trust. Someone I care about.
I’d rather it be you. Try it out, mia piccola civetta.
” My little minx. The nickname suited her.
She tempted me like no one else. I lost all reason when it came to her.
“Give me a chance. You might convince me to want more.”
Her body gave a shiver, and I couldn’t help my half smirk. I was a betting man. Ainsley didn’t give in to people easily, so I was betting last night was a choice. I could work with that. If I had to become a husband, I’d rather I be hers than anyone else’s.
“You’re a manipulating jerk, you know that?” She paced the rug—three steps forward, turn, three steps back, turn—until she finally stopped. “One date. One. That’s all you get. We’ll see if you have what it takes to ensnare me.”
“Oh, baby, you know I do.”
She rolled her eyes at me, then huffed her way across the room.
I watched her body prance—from the sway of her hips to the bounce of her ass—then shook my head straight.
She’d always driven me crazy, from the obstinate kid who didn’t think things through to the pen pal I never wanted but needed, and now the woman with a body and temperament I could get lost in but shouldn’t.
“We’ll see,” she added saucily and tossed the door open.
Tore and Vinny waffled in and out of view.
“It’s not nice to eavesdrop, you know. Way to set up standards for Lou and Boyan, you two.”
“You didn’t have to be so quiet,” Tore said. “This better stay strictly professional. She’s my kid sister, after all, Renzo.”
“Yeah, no. Let’s not put the tag kid anywhere close to me anymore.” Ainsley patted Tore on the back as she walked past him. “By the way, if you guys want to lock down the Dimakos clan, Bee’s waiting for a call, if you dare.”
“We don’t need her,” Tore called after her.
“Don’t be a pussy, brother. You know you do.” She glanced back at me one more time. “Don’t keep me waiting too long. I don’t take rain checks.”
“Oh, come on. The woman’s the damn devil,” Tore called after Ainsley as she waved over her head, turned the corner, and disappeared from view. “She’s always fucking with my accounts and shit. I’m not calling her.”
Vinny smacked him across the head. “Just suck it up and call her. She might be exactly what we need to find Julius Dimakos out in the open.”
“She’s that good?” I asked as the two scrooges strolled back into my office.
“Yes, she really is,” Vinny confirmed. “It’s a shame she won’t go on payroll though.”
I nodded. “Vinny’s right. Suck it up, Tore. I want this done and over with by the end of the week. It’s time Dimakos understands what it means to lose everything.”
“What do we do about the wife situation?”
I smirked internally. “Get it done. Forge her signature and file it. We don’t have the time to wait. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. If we go on a few public outings, it’ll be real enough for Giambrone.”
Vinny whistled outward. “How romantic.”
This wasn’t about romance, but there was something particularly satisfying in knowing Ainsley Burch was about to be my wife, whether she knew it or not. Damn to hell all the reasons this was a bad idea because the little minx was mine.