Absinthe Minded: A Mafia Romantic Comedy (Bourbon Street Bad Boys' Club Book 1)
Page 27
A sharp intake of breath caught my attention. I turned to find Shanna and Gabe staring—neither seemed amused.
Certain I looked as guilty as I felt, I took a step back. I couldn’t stop staring. Shanna’s unassuming beauty stole my breath. With very little make-up, a pixie-cut, and an embroidered dress, she reminded me of a heroine from one of the old black and white movies my mother loved so much.
“Nico, good to see you. When did you get into town?” My brother stepped forward and kissed her cheeks.
If she responded, I didn’t hear her over the whoosh of blood rushing behind my ears.
Shanna swallowed hard and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
I searched for something to say to her. Something that wouldn’t set Nico off.
“Gabe said someone poisoned the soup?” She scanned the busy kitchen. “Have you called the police?”
Nico whipped her head toward Shanna like a shark scenting blood in the water.
“I’d rather not involve the cops tonight and ruin the party.” I motioned for her to follow me.
Thank Christ, Gabe used his common sense and distracted Nico with wedding talk.
“Was anyone injured?” Shanna glanced from me to the bowl of minestrone I’d set aside.
“No. It smells horrendous. I doubt anyone would have put it in their mouths.” I couldn’t stop staring.
Why the fuck didn’t I call her? Because she scared the ever-loving-shit out of me. I’d never connected with a woman so deeply in such a short amount of time. I didn’t need a crystal ball to tell me it’d end with both of us in pain. She didn’t strike me as the kind of woman who’d settle for a fling, and I couldn’t give her more.
She smirked. “If no one was injured, there’s not really a problem.”
I panicked and babbled like an idiot to keep her with me a few more minutes. “The assistant manager slipped and fell. I sent her to the emergency room to get checked out. She’s fine. Probably a broken wrist, but fine. Unrelated to the soup, of course. She tripped over the salads.”
“Did someone poison the vinaigrette, too?” Shanna smiled and my world tilted.
“No.” I pressed my lips together to force myself into silence.
She sniffed the container of soup and jerked back. “It smells like nail polish remover, which makes zero sense.”
“How so?”
“If the culprit wanted to make people sick, they would have used something odorless. This seems more like sabotage. You have no idea who did this?”
“No. One of my bussers mentioned a woman stopped in to see me earlier. He let her in the kitchen, but she didn’t stick around to speak to me.”
“I see.” She glanced back to Gabe and Nico. “There’s nothing else I can do. You should file a police report.”
The last thing I needed was cops poking around. Scratch that. The last thing I needed was cops alerting the health department about my acetone soup. I shook my head and focused on the bigger problem—Shanna, and what she’d overheard. “Can we talk? Alone?”
“Did you lose my number?”
I tilted my head. “No.”
She patted my cheek. “You should.”
Chapter 3
Highball and Chain
Shanna
The plane neared the ground and my stomach knotted, but it had nothing to do with the change in altitude. I hadn’t heard from Enzo Marchionni since the case of the tainted soup at the engagement party. Soon, I’d come face-to-face with the Ghoster.
Two months of maid of honor duty hadn’t lessened the sting of my epic walk of shame. The fact that he hadn’t bothered to return my call or texts pissed me off. Though, I supposed I deserved it.
What kind of woman has an almost-one-night stand with her best friend’s fiancé’s brother?
The plane bounced a couple of times as the wheels made contact with the runway. Before I could catch my breath, the pilot hit the brakes. I tightened every muscle in my body to resist the forward pull.
Dahlia patted my hand. “Relax. That was the last landing until it’s time to go home.”
The thought of repeating the trip in reverse made my already-aching head worse. After two connections and a total of twenty hours traveling, I wanted a hot meal, a shower, and a warm bed. “Thanks for the reminder.”
She ignored my comment.
Peering out the window, I said, “I thought the airport was bigger?”
“You’re probably thinking Palermo. Comiso is tiny, but closer to the villa.”
“Right.” I ground my teeth. Despite the fact the plane had stopped, no one stood.
Dahlia rummaged through her bag. “I still don’t understand why Maggie insisted on having the ceremony in Sicily. So what if the press covered the wedding? One of us should be married in St. Louis Cathedral.”
“You can, when you marry Leo.” My knee bounced. Why weren’t these people standing?
“We’re just friends.” Dahlia scrolled through her messages.
“Uh huh.”
Dahlia and Leo had danced around each other for the previous ten years but never officially dated. Though they denied it, I assumed they had sex since Leo was the only man in Dahlia’s life besides her one-year-old son.
“Maggie said the guys are picking us up.” Dahlia typed a text message, smiled, and sat back.
“Which guys?” I stood and pulled my carry-on from the overhead bin.
“Probably Gabe and Leo.”
Standing hunched over, I waited for the people to start moving. “Seriously, how long does it take to open a freaking door?”
Dahlia twisted her long dark hair into a messy bun. “Shanna, relax. They’ll open it soon.”
“They need to hurry the hell up, I’m claustrophobic.” I drummed my fingers until the man in the seat in front of me glared.
“Since when?”
Since I’m halfway around the world, trapped on an island with Enzo Marchionni. The door opened and the passengers filled the aisle. “About time.”
We picked up our luggage and exited the terminal building into paradise. A steady breeze blew from the Mediterranean, warming my face and lifting my spirits. That is, until masculine laughter filled the air, and someone pulled my carry-on from my shoulder.
I turned and locked gazes with the Ghoster.
“Here, let me help you.” Enzo smiled, his teeth bright against his tanned face.
“Thanks, but I can manage.” I tugged, but he held firm.
“I insist.”
“For crying out loud, let the man help you.” Dahlia handed her bag to Gabe. “She’s been cranky since we left New Orleans.”
“I’m not cranky. I’m exhausted. I don’t know how Maggie made this flight four months pregnant.” I left Enzo with my luggage. If he wanted to carry it, he could carry it all.
“In a private jet.” Dahlia smirked.
“Hey, we offered to bring you two with us.” Gabe swung the bags into the back of the SUV.
“Some of us had to work.” I hustled into the front seat. Since Gabe had the keys, I assumed he’d drive. Dahlia and Enzo could share the back.
“Shanna, do you mind if I sit up front? I get car sick.” Dahlia smiled a smile that told me she suffered from motion sickness about as often as I suffered claustrophobia.
Enzo chuckled. “Best to let her ride shotgun. Gabe’s had enough vomit from Maggie to last two lifetimes.”
“Is she okay? Will she be able to get through the wedding?” I relinquished my seat and climbed in the back.
“It’s mostly in the morning now. She should be fine.” Gabe pulled out of the parking lot.
The roads back home were bad, but they had nothing on the bumpy, narrow streets of Comiso. I rested my head against the seat as the shadowed scenery passed outside the window.
“Where’s Leo?” Dahlia might have tried for casual, but I detected a hint of worry in her voice.
“He had some business in Palermo. He’s coming in later tonight.” Gabe tighten
ed his grip on the wheel.
She sighed. “What’s the plan for the rest of the evening?”
“Ma’s making dinner at the villa. We figured you two would be hungry and ready for bed.” Gabe turned onto a winding gravel road.
“Sounds good to me.” I caught his eye in the rearview mirror and smiled. “Nervous about the wedding?”
“Hell, no.”
Enzo leaned closer than was necessary. “If he had his way, they’d already be married.”
My pulse raced, but I ignored it, and him—or tried to, anyway. Pretending I couldn’t smell his spicy cologne, or feel the warmth of his leg pressed against mine, proved impossible. However, I would not, and could not, allow myself to be the kind of woman who put up with a guy ghosting her because he happened to be sexy as homemade sin.
The car bounced hard enough to break an axel, and Enzo took the opportunity to slip his arm around my shoulder.
We hit another bump, and I jabbed my elbow into his ribs.
Dahlia laughed. “How many people are staying at your parents’ house?”
“Just the wedding party. Everyone else is in hotels.” Gabe stopped before an iron gate and entered a code into the keypad.
Lights illuminated the white-washed walls of Villa Dei Fiori, otherwise known as the Marchionni compound. Even in the dark, I understood how the house got its name—villa of flowers. Bougainvillea covered the walls, and plumbago filled large beds along the drive. A handful of palms glowed in the exterior lighting, giving the home a tropical feel.
Two Italian men stepped out of the front doors. I’d met all the brothers back in New Orleans, but couldn’t remember which was Marco and which was Dante.
Unfortunately, the Marchionni I wanted to forget cornered me beside the trunk.
Enzo leaned close enough his soft curls brushed my cheek. “Shanna, we need to talk.”
Oh boy, here comes the sorry-I-didn’t-call speech. I yanked my suitcase out and set it on the ground. “Sure, but we’re fine. I mean, we’re adults. There’s nothing—”
“Enzo!” The willowy Italian goddess from the restaurant rushed to him and planted a kiss on his mouth. “You were gone for so long.”
Just when I thought things couldn’t be more awkward.
Highball and Chain is available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.
Also by Kathryn M. Hearst
Tessa Lamar Novels
The Spirit Tree
Twelve Spirits of Christmas
The Spirit Child
The Spirit Walker
The Spirit Dancer (Late 2020)
Immortal Reign Series
Blood Vows
Blood Awakening
Blood Rising
Blood Coup
Blood Reign
Paranormal Romance
Dragon Glass
Dragonstruck
Bourbon Street Bad Boys Club
Absinthe Minded
Highball and Chain
Single Malt Drama
Hot Momosa
Gin and Trouble
About the Author
Kathryn M. Hearst is a southern girl who seasons her romances with sprinkles of humor, mystery, and suspense. Her second book, The Spirit Tree, won the Kindle Scout competition, and her work has been featured in Chicken Soup for the Soul. She has been a storyteller her entire life. As a child, she took people watching to new heights by creating back stories of complete strangers. Besides writing, she has a passion for shoes, vintage clothing, antique British cars, and music. Kate lives in eastern North Carolina with her three dogs, Jolene, Roxanne, and Jagger—whose names were chosen based on popular tunes—because everyone needs a theme song.
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