Chapter Twenty-Nine Enzo
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Enzo
Tom picked me up at six thirty in the morning on a Saturday. I came down with a blue birthday hat and a cupcake with a dick-shaped candle stuck in the middle.
Understated. Elegant. Just like myself. “I’m not wearing the hat even if the future of the republic depends on it,” Tom greeted me solemnly, leaning to give me a kiss.
I kissed him back, grinning. “Happy birthday, Tomcat.”
He gave me an appreciative once-over, lingering on lean muscles and pumped biceps. I may have done a few push-ups before I came downstairs, just to highlight my best features.
He leaned and kissed me again, as if he’d forgotten we already kissed hello.
“How old?” I asked when he reluctantly withdrew his lips from mine. Every first kiss between us was always special: his body’s way of saying hello to mine.
“The big four O.”
“Holy shit, I just turned twenty-six in November.”
Which he fucking knew, because I bet he had a seven-hundred-page report on me somewhere.
“Does it bother you?” He scanned my face, his expression dark but nonchalant.
“That I have more years left of being hot than you do? Not in the least.”
He shook his head and started driving.
“Where are we headed?” I pulled out my snacks for the day. Baby carrots, hummus, and peanut-butter-and-dates protein balls.
“Originally, I wanted to take you to Lake Placid, but I knew I’d never live the name down, so instead, Lake George it is.”
“You know me too well.” I handed him an amino acid drink in a Stanley. “But…is it safe there?”
Meaning—was there a chance for us to be seen by anyone? At risk of being exposed?
He nodded. “My boss and best friend, Zeke, has a house on the lake. It’s secluded with private beaches and isolated trails. We’ll be practically invisible.”
Invisible.
This is your life, my father’s voice taunted me. Your future, too. Hiding, sneaking, erasing the footprint of your private life, the things that make you happy.
“He knows you’re bringing your fuck buddy along?” I teased with a smile. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact Tom was bringing the Camorra’s enforcer—a Ferrante—to an FBI director’s home. Talk about being on the nose. For all of his prim and properness, he was fairly adventurous.
“I said I was bringing a friend.” He licked his lips, a private smile on his face. “A friend in the waste management industry.”
I barked out a laugh. “I still can’t believe the FBI just dropped our case like that.”
“Yeah.” Tom cleared his throat, his fingers tightening over the steering wheel.
I still hadn’t told my brothers about it.
First, because I didn’t know it to be true.
I had to take Tom’s word for it, and I didn’t fully trust him.
Second, because how the fuck would I explain my source?
If they found out I was hanging out with Rothwell, they would kill me.
We spent the drive playing Never Have I Ever and word association. When we stopped for gas and bathroom breaks, we got out a few minutes apart, and wore ball caps and popped collars to hide our faces.
When we arrived at Lake George, Tom parked outside a small supermarket and turned off the engine. “Wait here; I’ll buy supplies for our stay. Anything you want?”
Yes, I wanted to choke out. I want to come inside with you, hold your hand, spend time choosing things together, discussing what we’ll make.
But it was impossible, and we both knew it.
I shrugged instead. “Whatever, as long as it’s clean.”
He nodded and slinked off. I pulled my phone out and blew out a breath. My chest felt tight with nerves, even though I was happy to be here.
Katya’s name flashed on my screen.
Katya: Can we have ice swans? Sitting down with the wedding planner right now, and she says they’re making a comeback.
Katya: It’ll be about 15k
Me: Sure thing.
Katya: As for centerpieces…I’m eyeing these really beautiful arrangements. I emailed you the link. They’re $600 apiece.
Me: Go for it. Anything you want. I’ll foot the bill.
Katya: What about goodie bags? What’s the budget on that?
Me: Infinite. Go nuts.
Katya: You sure? My brothers are telling me yours are annoyed with the cost of the wedding.
Me: Let me take care of my brothers. You go on and make it your dream wedding.
I understood where she was coming from. Money was the poor man’s substitution for love, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
I stared at my phone, feeling helpless and on edge. After a while, I heard the trunk pop open and the rustling of paper bags. Tom reemerged, smelling like winter.
We drove to his friend’s place in silence.