by Bethany-Kris
“Drive safe, sir.”
Tom was already leaving the office with a wave over his shoulder.
“What business?” his father asked. “It sounded like a car deal.”
“It’s nothing. Spending money. That’s all.”
“You are coming home soon, aren’t you?”
“Like I told Ma, I’ll be there in a couple of days as something came up I want to do.”
“Good. It’s time for you to get back to life, Tom. Here, I mean. Adriano’s been having nothing but problems with the crew since you took off, and he could really use your help to settle the guys again.”
Tom scowled as he exited the business. His rented Mercedes was still waiting at the curb, and running. A man stood beside it, and waited for him to hand the car back over now that he was done inside. At the moment, he was more interested in the conversation with his father than the car.
“What problems?” Tom asked. “Because I’ve called Adriano every couple of days just to check in and make sure nothing came up that he needed me for. He didn’t mention shit about issues with the crew, Dad.”
“It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, Tom.”
“And now he can’t handle it, or what?”
“More like he doesn’t want to. That’s his right as the—”
“First Capo of the crew. Yeah, I know.”
He didn’t need that damn lecture again. He was all too aware that being the secondary Capo for the Conti crew of the Chicago Outfit left him doing the dirty work Adriano didn’t want to do. It meant he got the difficult guys, the harder jobs, and the cleanup.
Most times, Tom didn’t mind. He had learned over the years that this was his road to travel in order to get where he needed and wanted to be in the business. He intended to be a boss. His father was determined to make sure Tom worked every fucking level in the family business that he possibly could before he came anywhere near the top.
“How was your break, by the way?” his father asked.
“We’re just dropping the crew conversation, then?”
“For now. Answer me.”
“It was … good.”
“Good. That’s all?”
“Interesting, Dad.”
Tommas laughed quietly. “I will have to take your word for it. I never found New York to be particularly inviting to me—for your uncle, Damian, or his kids, sure. Never for me.”
Sometimes, bad blood was impossible to wash out. Or, that’s what his father always told him where the New York families were concerned. Well, one family in particular. The Marcellos. It wasn’t really open for discussion between him and his father, but Tom knew the rules. For now, the Chicago Outfit bended to the demands of the Marcello family because they had control of New York, and the Commission made up of North American crime families.
“Did you find what you needed, or figure out how to deal with the issues back here?” Tommas asked his son.
“Figured out it feels a hell of a lot better to crush their face with my fist than it does to ignore them, and I get a better reaction out of it.” Tom nodded to the man who held open the Mercedes’s driver door, and slipped into the car. The engine purred under his handling. “But you always told me not to handle every disobedient man with violence because it only teaches fear, and—”
“Not respect.”
“Yeah, so I guess no, I haven’t gotten very much figured out. I’m more relaxed, though.”
“Some men need a harsh hand, Tommaso, and some only need a harsh word. You will figure out which man is which. That is how you’ll win this war.”
“How do I figure out which is which, Dad?”
“By paying attention. Some men are like vicious dogs, and the only way to deal with them is to put them down. Others are just loud, disruptive, and intimidating, but they know how and when to step back with the right motivation. Figure out which men fall into which category, son. Also, I sincerely hope you’ve put this gunrunning nonsense to bed, Tommaso.”
And just like that, Tom’s irritation was back in a blink. “Not really, actually.”
“Shame.”
His father hung up the call without a goodbye.
Right then, Tom didn’t mind.
His mind was on someone else …
Tom leaned against the hood of the Mercedes as people filtered through the parking lot. Beside the car, Camilla’s Mustang GT sat parked and waiting for her. It was the only help Cross was willing to give Tom where Camilla was concerned. Her location, and when he could find her there.
So, here he was, at Rory Meyers College.
Waiting.
“Two questions.”
Tom’s head lifted at Camilla’s sweet voice. He found her standing twenty feet away with a messenger bag slung over her arm, and wearing navy blue scrubs with the school’s emblem on the right breast pocket. Even in scrubs and plain white shoes, with her hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, and her face free of makeup, the girl looked good.
Amazing, really.
He smiled. “What’s your questions?”
“Is that Mercedes a rental or yours? I didn’t see you driving something before.”
“It’s a rental. I just traded it in for something else, but I have to wait a couple of days for it.”
“And that something else is …?”
“You only said two questions, Cam.”
She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Okay, second question, then. Why are you at my college?”
“Just thought I should say goodbye before I head out of state in a couple of days, that’s all.”
He didn’t miss the way her lips pouted or her shoulders dropped. She hid it quickly enough, sure, but it still happened.
“Well, have a good flight, I guess,” Camilla said.
Tom tipped his head toward the car. “I’m not heading out of state for a couple of days. Just thought you would like to know when and all.”
Camilla abused her bottom lip with her teeth, and fiddled with the strap on her bag before saying, “I figured not answering your last couple of texts after Luna Park would have given you the hint that I’m not interested in anything beyond what we already did, Tom. We hooked up a couple of times, that’s it.”
“Had you answered my messages, you would have figured out I just wanted to meet up before I headed out of state. Say goodbye. Like friends do.”
Her gaze darted away from his. “Friends, huh?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t fuck my friends, Tom.”
“Well, we’re definitely not anything else, right?”
Camilla cleared her throat. “Friends, then.”
He brought out a package from behind his back, and Camilla’s smile grew at the sight of what he held in his hand.
A small cupcake with one single candle on the top.
“Someone might have let me know it’s your birthday today, but you didn’t want to do anything for it because—”
“I was in classes all day,” she interjected with a wave at the school behind her.
“Understandable. You must be studying nursing, right?”
“The end goal is to be a NICU nurse,” Camilla admitted.
“I didn’t know that, but it seems like it would fit your personality.”
“You think you know my personality?”
“You’ve given me some peeks at it despite the fact you tried to blow me off,” he replied.
She shot him an apologetic look. “Except here you are.”
Tom flashed a grin and held the cupcake out for her. “With cake. Happy birthday, Camilla.”
She came close enough to take the cupcake, and looked it over. “I’m really not looking for a relationship, Tom. That’s why I blew you off, okay? Not because you’re just good for a fuck, or anything else. I don’t want to get involved with someone like that.”
“I’m not asking for a relationship, Cam.”
“No?”
He shook his head.
“Just a friend.”<
br />
She smiled. “A friend, then.”
“Eat your cake. All queens should have their cake, Cam.”
She did.
He took the whole day as a battle won.
CHAPTER SIX
“WHY IS Cami girl pouting in the corner like somebody took away her puppy or something?”
It was Camilla or Cam to anyone else in her life, but at the salon she used along with August, the ladies always called her Cami. At first, she had tried to correct them, but found it didn’t make a difference. Honestly, she quickly learned that nicknames were the way these stylists showed they liked a person. It was when they didn’t give a client a nickname that a person had to be concerned about a missed clip, or a fucked up fade.
August was currently half way through getting her micro braids put in—a protective style she would keep for likely the whole winter. They had already been at the salon for going on four hours, and would probably be there for another few.
Camilla didn’t mind. The salon was one of her favorite places, and Chilla’s Styles was the only business she allowed to touch her hair now. The ladies knew how to work any kind of hair, weren’t afraid to tell Camilla she was going to lose all her hair if she didn’t relax with the chemicals, and August had been going here for years.
“Seriously, look at her,” Chilla said as she finished another micro braid on August’s head. “She’s all sad over there—she’s got a new pink fade, a blow out, and she might as well be boohooing.”
“I am not,” Camilla said.
“Girl, don’t you lie to Chilla. I’ve known you since you were sixteen, Cami. You’re all smiles whenever you get your hair done up.”
Camilla scowled, and looked out the window. She was not in the mood to talk. Well … really, she just didn’t want to talk about what was bothering her.
August snorted. “Her newest boy toy is heading back home today, I guess.”
Chilla raised a brow, and took another look at Camilla. “That so? Got your heart turned up for a boy, huh?”
“No,” Camilla said. “I’m not turned up for anybody.”
“Then why did you say that like you’re all pissed off or something?”
Laughter filled up the salon from the other stylists and clients. Chilla was too good at her job—both wielding the tools to style hair, and keeping her patrons entertained. Camilla was not usually the topic of conversation, though.
“It didn’t go the way it usually does for her this time around,” August filled in. “Somebody didn’t break hearts this time. He seemed to be pretty cool with how she rolls.”
“And she rolls right back out of their life, right?” Chilla asked.
August laughed lightly. “Exactly.”
“So what’s the problem, Cami girl? Isn’t that your deal with people? You’re just out for a good time, not a long time. There isn’t anything wrong with saying you might have found somebody you don’t want to roll on.”
Camilla let out a long sigh, and knew there was no way she would be able to get out of this conversation now. “Actually, I thought he might say goodbye.”
Silence echoed back.
She looked to August and Chilla. Neither woman moved. Chilla, already working on the next micro braid, had stopped working altogether. August stared at Camilla as though she had suddenly grown a second head.
“What?” Camilla asked. “Is there something on my face?”
August smirked. “Other than love?”
Camilla made a gagging noise in the back of her throat. “That nonsense doesn’t exist, thanks.”
“You’re going to tell me that you don’t believe for a second your father loves your mother to death?”
Fine.
“So for some people, it happens. For me, it’s like a unicorn. It doesn’t exist.”
“Does too,” August said in a sing-song fashion.
“Stop your moving, Aug,” Chilla said, getting back to work on the braids. “Maybe the boy was just following your lead, Cami girl. Decided to roll on out like you always do.”
A small piece of Camilla seriously hoped that was not the case. A larger part refused to let her admit it.
“Not a boy,” August said quietly, “very much a man.”
Chilla cocked a brow, all interest and a sly grin. “That so?”
“Tall, dark, and handsome. Blue-eyed. Cute.”
“You didn’t even meet Tom,” Camilla said to her friend.
August shrugged in the chair. “She told me about him. He’s also got a good nine—”
Chilla whistled loudly, stopping August from saying more. More laughter lit up the salon, but the stylist passed a glance at the preteen girl having her natural hair combed out in the next chair. “That’s enough, Aug. We’re going for family appropriate here.”
“Yeah, August, shut up,” Camilla grumbled.
“Sorry,” August said.
“But not really,” Chilla finished for her.
August grinned, but stayed quiet.
The growl of an engine outside the Brooklyn salon took Camilla’s attention away from the conversation. For the moment, she was grateful.
Then, the car with the sexy noise came into a view. A black and red Bugatti supercar with silver accents pulled up to the curb directly in front of the salon’s bay windows. Camilla’s gaze widened at the sight of the beautiful piece of machine.
Next to a good fuck, Camilla liked fast cars.
Liked them a lot.
Just the sleek lines and sharp body of the Bugatti was enough to make her wet between her thighs.
And then he stepped out of the driver’s side.
Tommaso.
Camilla’s heartbeat raced, and thumped hard in her throat. She hadn’t even realized that she was standing from the chair until she was at the front door.
“Is that him?” she heard Chilla ask behind her.
“Fits the description,” August said.
“My God, isn’t he something to look at.”
“Right? She needs to get a picture of that just to keep,” someone else said.
“Cami girl’s about to get happier, ain’t she?” Chilla asked.
“Jesus, you have no idea how much I hope so,” August said.
Camilla wasn’t paying them any mind. She stepped out into the cool, late September air, and tightened the bomber jacket around her neck to keep the breeze out. Tommaso leaned against the passenger side of the Bugatti with the kind of grin that could melt her fucking panties off … if she didn’t throw them at him first.
She realized in that moment she had not given Tommaso enough credit when she described him to August. His fit, lean form looked damn good wearing a black suit, and looking like he was ready for some black-tie event. His gaze lifted from the ground to her as she stepped out on the curb. All it took was him swiping his thumb along his bottom lip, and Camilla swore between him and the car, her panties were done for.
At least she had gotten the all man part about Tommaso right when she filled August in.
“Don’t lean against that car,” Camilla admonished him.
Tommaso chuckled. “What, why? Do you know how much money I paid to switch my rental for this? And all for one single day, too. Well, I only get to drive it for one day.”
She didn’t understand what he was talking about, but it didn’t much matter, either.
He gestured at her hair. “The pink is new. I like it.”
“I change it up often.”
“How often?”
“Often enough that I don’t know what my natural color is anymore.”
Tommaso laughed loud and hard, and fuck him for looking that good while doing it, too.
“How did you know I was here?” Camilla asked.
His gaze darted to the salon behind her. “You do know there’s like fifteen people in the window watching us, right?”
She looked over her shoulder.
He was right.
Camilla gave them a wink, but quickly went back to Tommaso. �
�Everybody likes soap operas, Tom.”
His brow furrowed.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Again, how did you know I was here?”
“Someone let me know.”
“My brother?”
Tommaso tipped a hand over, saying, “Someone.”
“You couldn’t text me?”
“I thought a face to face might be better. Also,” he said, as he stepped away from the car while gesturing toward it at the same time, “I thought you might like to drive me to the airport.”
Camilla’s heart skipped a damn beat. “Seriously?”
“Someone else mentioned you liked fast cars.”
“That’s why you traded your rental in for this?”
“I mean, are we playing twenty questions, or are we driving?”
Camilla waffled between Tommaso, or going back inside. “August is still getting her micro braids put in.”
“August doesn’t give a shit!” someone yelled out the open salon door.
Tommaso’s laughter came out dark and heady. “Oh, I get it, now. Soap operas. Do you gossip in salons as much as they do on the television, too?”
“Yes,” someone else shouted from inside the salon.
Camilla glanced up at the sky, and almost wished the heavens would open up to swallow her whole. Tommaso’s voice brought her back to reality.
“You can drive, babe.”
He dangled keys, and let them jingle.
Her gaze wavered between Tommaso, the keys, and the Bugatti that looked like it was made to race and sin all at the same time.
“God, I love that car.”
“Good.”
“Was it my dad that told you I liked fast cars?”
Tommaso’s grin said it was her father. “Maybe. How did you know I talked to him?”
“My mom let it slip. You never mentioned it to me, though.”
“You made it pretty clear you weren’t up for anything other than some fun where I was concerned, Cam. I’m still good with that, babe. You know?”
“Is that why you went and did this?”
She waved at the car.
Tommaso didn’t give away a thing. “Really, I just figured since I was heading back to Chicago today it might be fun to hang out for a bit. Had you given me a chance, I would have taken you out to see a movie or dance. Your father said you liked that kind of stuff, too, but I was left with using your one other weakness.”
