by Ashley Jade
But the way Ricardo's eyes are roaming over my entire body, making sure he stops and fixates at every point along the way, you'd think I was a freaking centerfold on the cover of a magazine.
When the neckline of my top drops off my shoulder slightly, his gaze lingers there and he bites his lip.
Thanks to working at the show n' tail and as a ring girl, I'm used to men leering at me like I'm a piece of meat.
But the way Ricardo looks at me...I've never had another man look at me quite like he does. Like he's in awe of me...like I'm the most perfect thing he's ever seen...flaws and all.
His eyes finally connect with mine and I have to suck in another breath.
That heated stare of his is like the sun...it will either warm you up slowly from the inside out...or burn you alive.
“What are you talking about? What glitch?” he asks, pushing his chair away from his desk.
“You said I could do whatever I wanted, remember?” I take a nervous step forward. I can feel my cheeks becoming pink with embarrassment. “Well, I wanted to work on my school assignment. Obviously, I'm no longer in school anymore, but I still wanted to finish it—it um.” I swallow. “It's important to me...but I need internet access to complete it.”
I want to point out that the television doesn't work either, but he crooks a finger at me and says, “Come here.”
When I take the few steps over to him, he reaches for my hand. “You can't have regular access to the Internet but I'll figure out a way that you can have what you need to finish your project.”
It's on the tip of my tongue to say thank you, but I don't. Because I shouldn't be thanking him for being treated like a teenager who's now allowed privileges when I'm a grown woman being held here against my will.
“I'm also going to set it up so you can complete your studies here. You'll get your diploma, Lou-Lou. I promise.”
I feel something in my chest dislodge with those words—because the genuine expression on his face tells me he knows how important that is to me, without me even needing to say it—but I force myself not to give in.
Just because he's doing something for me that Bruno refused to do, doesn't mean it takes away from the fact that he's doing the same thing that his father did.
Make up your mind, Lou-Lou—my mind chastises. You're either mad that he let you go, or mad that he's keeping you.
But why do I have to choose?
I'm angry that he let me go. I'm both hurt and pissed at him for becoming what he is now, and I'm beyond livid that he's keeping me here against my will. Without an explanation.
He moves his chair closer to me but I back up.
That is until he reaches out, wraps a hand around my hip, and pulls me back to him.
“You did something different to your hair,” he says, studying my face.
I look down, ignoring the pitter-patter of my heart over him noticing that I have side bangs now.
“I got bangs,” I mumble. “Momma told me that whenever a woman decides to make a change in her life, she should mark the occasion by doing something to her hair.”
He laughs softly and I shrug. “I didn't want to change my hair too much, so I decided on bangs.”
“I like it,” he whispers, his other hand now framing my face.
I can't help but lean into his touch for a moment, because it's familiar in the very best way and there's a part of me that missed it so much.
But then I remember. “Why am I here, Ricardo?”
He exhales sharply, and for once I'm hopeful he's actually going to be honest with me, but he ignores my question and asks one of his own. “Where's Marlene?”
I want to roll my eyes at his bad attempt at changing the subject, but I look him right in his and say, “I don't know, probably still scrubbing the blood off the tiles from before. You know, after you lost your shit and shot two of your men.”
The hand on my face drops to my other hip and his fingers curl around them both possessively. “I won't apologize for that.”
His thumb slides up and he skims the tiny sliver of skin exposed above the band of my jeans. “I won't ever apologize for that.”
“Ever?” I ask tauntingly.
His grip on my hips tighten and his eyes darken. “Never.”
I should be disgusted with him. I should tell him I won't fall in love with another version of Bruno DeLuca and that I refuse to be put under another monster's spell.
But my brain short circuits when his fingers dip under my waistband and my unsaid words fall by the wayside. His touch is both soft and teasing, and his eyes are on mine, gauging my reaction.
I hiss when the pad of his thumb caresses the sensitive part of my wound and he curses under his breath. “The doctor didn't come back to see you today?”
I shake my head, unaware that a doctor had already come to see me and is scheduled to come see me.
“I'll make sure he comes by tomorrow to check out your stitches.”
“It's fine...it doesn't even hurt that much.”
“Let me see.”
Without waiting for my response, he lifts my shirt up slightly, but frowns when he realizes he can only see a portion of it due to my clothing.
I have to remind myself to breathe when he releases the button on my jeans and tugs them down slightly, almost past my hips.
I want to tell him that he pulled my jeans down much further than he needed to, but the cocky smirk on his face tells me that was his intention.
Goodness, that sexy smirk of his. I don't stand a chance against it, I never have.
Not when his hands are on me.
Especially when his hands are on me.
His touch becomes feather light as he inspects my wound, making sure to be delicate, even though he doesn't need to be.
“Looks good. Real good,” he rasps and I realize that his gaze isn't focused on my wound anymore but between my legs.
For a moment, I want to kick myself for wearing plain cotton underwear and not something sexier, but then I remind myself that's the last thought I should be having.
He clears his throat and hikes my jeans back up. He's about to redo the button but to my surprise, my hand covers his, halting him.
Despite my conscience, my body feels like a live wire when his hands are on me and after months of feeling so dead, I don't want it to stop.
Instantly, his hands are back on my hips, digging into them as I raise my shirt above my head and he drops to his knees before me.
“Fuck,” he growls against my stomach before he begins laving my navel with his tongue and sucks my belly button ring into his mouth.
“Ric—”
My voice cuts off when he stops and plants the most gentle of kisses in the center of my belly and before I know what's happening, my eyes are filling with tears as my mind conjures images of what I'll never have.
And I remember the real reason I will always hate him.
The one thing I can never forgive him for.
I'd be getting ready to be a mother right now if it wasn't for him.
And Thumper would be just about ready to come into this world to meet me...not savagely ripped from my womb because I chose him.
I make a noise in the back of my throat, a cross between a sob and a scream and I'm about to push him away, but he's already standing back up and handing me my shirt.
I quickly take it and he turns his back to me as I put it on. Neither of us say a word to one another as I walk out of his office and back to my hostage room.
Chapter 18 (Ricardo)
I don't even need to answer my phone to know what the news on the other end will be—but because I'm a mob boss and not a psychic and because Tyrone's currently staring at me—I have no choice but to act surprised when I find out.
“Yeah?”
“Gaffney's dead. Happened about 20 minutes ago, it will be hitting the media in the next 5.”
I twist my face into a scowl and let out a deep exhale purely for show. “Anything else?”
I roll my shoulders back and this time my scowl is real. Because the new mayor will only be in charge for a mere few days before he ends up dead as well.
In other words, I'm running out of time.
I have precisely 25 days, 15 hours, 12 minutes and 4 seconds left before my time is up and I hand the DeLuca's my proverbial black soul on a silver platter.
I hang up the phone and reach for my water bottle on the floor next to the punching bag.
I didn't want to come here today—and I wouldn't had I known Gaffney was scheduled to be offed this morning—but I promised Tyrone I would help him start training again...and considering what I'm going to have to do to him—
No.
I can't think about that.
I can't...I still have time.
I can still come up with some kind of plan.
Hell, it only took God 6 days to build the earth, not including his little R&R on the 7th day—which means I can definitely come up with a plan that will save my brothers and her with the 25 I have left.
At least, I'm sure as fuck counting on it.
“What happened?”
I rub the back of my neck and look around the gym. “Gaffney. He's—uh. He's dead.”
Tyrone's brows shoot up to the ceiling. “Well, shit.”
“Yeah.”
He flicks the handle on his wheel chair and we head for the locker room. “How?”
“Automobile accident. Head on collision with a semi-truck on the expressway.”
And then shot point blank to make sure the job was done. But of course, the public won't be privy to that info.
And the poor truck driver will test positive for drugs—and in turn, the government will use it to lobby for campaigns for stricter penalties for DWI's, even though the laws will stay the same because those fuckers and their crew are more loaded and zonked than most people in a room are.
Conspiracy at its finest.
“A head on collision?” Tyrone exclaims, pulling his gym bag out of the locker.
“Yeah, driver veered into the wrong lane. They think he was on drugs but won't know for sure until the results come back.”
“Was his son driving the truck?” Tyrone mutters and the irony isn't lost on me.
Dean Gaffney Jr, is not only the asshole who was personally involved in Alyssa's sex tape, and participated knowing it was all a set-up; but he's also a junkie who's driven under the influence without getting penalized so many times I've lost count.
I sit down on the bench. “Well you know what they say about karma.”
She's a bitch with a long hit list.
He makes a face. “Damn, this is gonna freak Alyssa out even more.” He points to the door. “Come on, you have to tell her before she turns on the news and finds out herself.”
“Tyrone—”
“What could be more important than this?”
“Lou-Lou,” I say, pushing to my feet. Although we haven't spoken a word to one another since that night.
When I left this morning I told Marlene to do some girly shit with her around the house to keep her occupied while I was gone. But still, I don't like leaving her for more than an hour or two at a time, which means I need to start heading back.
Especially now that the council's plan is going into action. “I've been gone for almost two hours, I have to go.”
Tyrone rolls his eyes. “Seriously? From what I understand, that mob mansion of yours is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Heck, Momma told me your security won't even let her in anymore.”
It's true. No one from the outside is allowed in now, not unless they live there permanently. I just can't take the chance, not when it's her safety on the line.
“Not for nothing, brother,” Tyrone continues. “But I think you need to let her be around the people who care about her. Momma said she had a hard time adjusting when she stayed with her. Might do her some good to see her friends.”
I snort and glare at him. “Friends, really? Jackson's always hated her and the last time she saw Alyssa it was because Alyssa was holding a gun up to her head.”
Not to mention the real reason I don't want her around them all, not only did Alyssa just find out they were step-sisters and she's not taking the news well...she's currently pregnant.
Although Tyrone doesn't know about Lou-Lou being pregnant and losing our child, I do. I'm not putting Lou-Lou through the turmoil of seeing her, especially after what happened the other night.
She's not ready to handle all that. She may never be.
Hell, I can barely handle it.
“I—” He pauses and rubs his face. “Well I can't speak for them, but I care about her. She was always my friend. And she'll always be my friend.”
I fight the jealousy I can feel burning in my veins, because I know him and Lou-Lou have a special bond. But then again, Tyrone has a special bond with everyone he loves. That's just the kind of person he is.
Jesus—how do I kill a man who's made up of so much good?
He can barely contain his smile. “Plus Shelby wants her to be your date for the engagement party in 3 weeks.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “You know, even numbers for seating arrangements and all that.”
It feels like another boulder just got placed on my shoulders as we walk out of the gym that's attached to the old fight club and head for the apartment complex.
Make that 21 days.
“Lou-Lou won't be going to the engagement party, Tyrone. It's not safe.”
“Why's that?”
I turn around at the sound of Jackson's voice.
I look at Tyrone who shrugs. “I told him to meet us here after Alyssa's doctor appointment.”
As if on cue, I turn my head and see Momma, Shelby, and Alyssa getting out of a cab.
“Ricardo,” Momma yells, charging at me full speed ahead.
That's when Jackson shrugs. “And when I asked the cab driver to let me out here so I could meet you and Tyrone...Momma wasn't happy. She said you've been ignoring her and she had a bone to pick with you.”
“Of-fucking-course.”
I turn around and wave, silently debating running to my Mustang before she catches up to me. “Hi, Momma.”
She picks up her pace. “Don't you 'Hi, Momma' me, boy. I've been by your god-awful mob mansion almost every day this week trying to see how Lou-Lou's doing. You know, since you insist on holding the poor girl hostage.”
A few pedestrians stop and stare at us due to Momma's outburst. Tyrone and Jackson both laugh and I give them the finger.
“Would you mind keeping that between us and not all of New York, Momma?” I whisper as I lean over to kiss her cheek.
“Not if you don't give me an update, I won't,” she snaps, jabbing her finger in my chest. “I helped you, remember? You know I care about the girl. You can't keep her from me.”
Tyrone makes a face as if to say I told you so, as Shelby and Alyssa catch up to us.
“Look, I have to go, I can't get into everything—”
“Dang it's hot out. Come on, y'all let's go inside,” Tyrone says, giving me a look. “Ricardo has something to tell everyone anyway.”
“Thanks,” I grunt and he raises his hands.
“Family don't keep secrets from one another, brother. It's best she hears it from you first anyway.”
“Mayor Gaffney is dead,” Alyssa repeats slowly, letting the news sink in.
Jackson rubs her shoulders and her eyes cut to the floor. “I mean don't get me wrong, Ricardo, that's awful, but I wasn't exactly a fan of his.”
She scrunches her face. “Thanks for letting me know, but if you're worried about the news mentioning my name and the sex tape, I'm kind of over it.”
She pats her growing belly and her face breaks out into a big smile. “I have more important things to worry about now.”
I turn my head away, focusing on anything else. “Right, of course. Tyrone just thought it would be good for you to hear it from me first.”
“How is she?” Alyssa questions after another minute goes by.
I force myself to face her again. “She's—”
I'm not sure how to answer, mostly because I don't really know. We're not exactly on speaking terms at the moment.
“She's fine,” I finally decide as I stand up from the couch. “And I need to head back—”
“When can I come by?” Momma's voice calls from somewhere in the kitchen.
“I don't think that's a good idea.”
I can hear her footsteps right before she comes barreling into the living room. “Why not?”
I can feel everyone's eyes on me now and I hate what I have to do, but there's no other way.
“She's a little angry at you for telling me where she was, Momma.”
Hurt flashes across her face and I hate myself even more.
“Hold up,” Jackson says, rushing to Momma's side. “Why would she be mad at Momma for keeping her safe from that asshole?”
I can physically feel everyone's gaze sharpen at his question.
“Because she doesn't know,” Momma whispers, turning to look at everyone. “And we can't ever tell her. I might not agree with Ricardo's methods...but I do agree it's best she doesn't know her father is alive.”
That's when Jackson crosses his arms over his chest and steps to me. “Why is he still alive?”
“Shit,” Tyrone mutters before yelling, “Okay, all women folk evacuate the premises. Let the men talk amongst themselves.”
Shelby raises an eyebrow and purses her lips. “Really?”
He swats her behind and gestures to the door, “Yes really, sugarplum. I'll see you in a little while.” She leans down and he pulls her in for a kiss. “If I'm not back in ten minutes, it's because Ricardo killed Jackson and I have to help him bury the body.”
I blow out a breath, although his statement was meant to break up the tension, it's too damn close for comfort.
Shelby's head snaps up, Momma puts her hand over her heart, and Alyssa gasps, looking horrified.
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