And she was a woman through and through, in every sense of the word. No longer a girl in any way, shape, or form.
Because her shape and form… Holy. Fuck.
Those weren’t the breasts of a teenage girl. I could somewhat make out their size even though they were covered by the non-revealing, loose white top she wore. Those captivating eyes were no longer shy and innocent but guileless instead, though not in a naïve way. More like in an open, straightforward kind of way. Her waist was still as tiny as ever, but her hips flared out far more than they used to. Her body had a distinct hourglass shape that provided so many convenient places to grab ahold of, enough to give any hot-blooded guy ideas. Her Italian heritage had gifted her with an olive complexion that now reminded me of caramel. With womanhood, it had taken on an irresistible golden hue that contrasted with the pink of her lips. Lips that had definitely plumped up since I’d last seen her.
And I’d only gotten a glimpse of it in her khaki shorts, but that ass didn’t look anything like it had six years ago when I’d accidentally caught a quick flash of it through Gia’s cracked bedroom door. It had been sweetheart-shaped back then but hadn’t had a lot of fill to it. Now? I had a sneaking suspicion that she had one hell of a time finding jeans that actually fit right.
My God, I wanted my hands on that ass so bad my cock was—
Whoa.
What the hell was going on?
Roxy was like my little sister, always had been. She wasn’t sexy or sensual or fuckable whatsoever. It was wrong and messed up to even think about her in those terms, considering I’d treated her just like Gia all my life. Well, mostly. They’d been best friends once upon a time and had stuck to each other like glue. Viewing them in the same light had seemed natural, and it had never before been a problem.
If she had been anyone else—literally anyone else—and we weren’t inside a church, I would have already had her pinned against the wall by the steel rod in my pants.
And that was a big damn problem.
I couldn’t understand how someone could change so much in just five years. Seriously, it was blowing my mind. And coming on to her outside of a confessional booth?
What in God’s name was wrong with me?
I wasn’t Nico, my eldest, man-whore of a brother.
That wasn’t what coming to this church today was about. I’d assigned myself the task of looking out for Roxy this summer. Things were going down in her family’s mafia world, and someone needed to keep an eye on her for her own safety. I figured I was as qualified for the job as anyone else, probably more so. And no one else, including Roxy, needed to know about it.
True, it hadn’t been necessary to actually approach her today. I could have just watched her from a distance while I worked. But that felt a little too stalkerish—I’m not Cris either. My other older brother had some obsessive tendencies.
Admittedly, I’d been curious to see and talk to Roxy up close. The church had been way down on my job waiting list, but I’d pushed them to the front of the line when I’d realized Roxy was making regular visits here.
I shouldn’t have said what I did. What kind of sins does a girl like you need to confess?
But now that I’d properly surprised the hell out of her, I couldn’t resist pushing the needle.
I took another step toward her until our toes almost touched. “Huh, Rox? Have you been getting into trouble since you got back?”
“What makes you think I wasn’t getting into trouble up in Connecticut?”
Her bold response knocked me off-balance for a second. The comment incited images of all kinds of troublemaking scenarios she could have found herself in up at college. Around all those horny Yale boys. The ones who would probably take advantage of a girl like Roxy. They’d see her sweetness and the studious vibes she put off, and they’d see a target.
The thought sent a wave of unexpected anger crashing through me.
And only part of that was motivated by the need to defend her honor. The other part felt oddly like jealousy. But that couldn’t have been right.
I had nothing to be jealous of.
Roxy wasn’t mine and never could be for so many reasons.
I quirked an eyebrow. “I see you’ve done plenty of growing up since you’ve been away.”
Ramping up the shock factor even more, she gave my body the quickest once-over before her eyes connected with mine again. “So have you.”
Why did my chest swell with satisfaction at hearing her approval? It had done that earlier, too, when she’d said she was impressed with my security business. Why should I care about her opinion of me? I shouldn’t.
My shoulders straightened with pride, anyway.
“Glad to know you still like what you see.”
Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, her face turning as red as a ripe strawberry. I didn’t want to embarrass her by addressing her long-time crush, but I fucking loved seeing that rosy blush cover her entire face. It was somehow adorable and seductive at the same time.
You’re playing a dangerous game, Rossetti.
“I never said I liked it.” She sounded mortified.
I slowly shook my head as my dick stiffened in my jeans. “You never had to.”
Ever since I’d known her, she’d never been very adept at hiding her emotions. Her face was an open book, her heart always stamped on her sleeve. At least in those respects, she was the same Roxy from years ago.
She tried to shrug with nonchalance, but it didn’t come off as she intended. I could still sense her rising nerves. “Like you said, I’ve done a lot of growing up. Things have changed.”
“Meaning you don’t like the ways that I’ve changed?” I asked playfully.
Her lips pursed. “Meaning I’m not going to make a fool of myself anymore.”
I frowned. “I never thought you made a fool of yourself.”
Honestly, her crush had been flattering. She’d looked at me back then like I was her Superman. She’d had her own older brother to look up to, but her hero-worship had apparently been reserved for me.
Granted, now I wouldn’t mind if that hero-worship turned into something a little bit more…intimate.
“Then you were the only one,” she muttered, averting her eyes.
Her gaze traveled from the altar to the pews, anywhere but back to mine. Whereas, my attention was drawn to her sensual mouth as she bit down on her lower lip.
Strike that.
Sensual was too tame a word to describe those fat, curving lips.
Carnal.
That was more like it.
Her mouth was wide, her naked lips plump with a small dimple in the middle of the bottom one. I had a vague recollection of that dimple from her youth, but it was far more pronounced now. Jesus. I never thought a dimple could be so damn appealing. I wanted to take it between my lips and suck on it until it was nice and swollen.
But she was still inexperienced, at least on some level.
You could tell by the way she held herself—her expressions—and the way she didn’t play on her gorgeous features like a lot of women might. If she’d become a maneater over the years, she would have been using that mouth and her new womanly curves to her every advantage. She’d have been wearing tighter clothing, and batting her long eyelashes at every man who blinked at her.
But she was so flustered, she could barely maintain eye contact with me.
Not exactly the behavior of a woman on the prowl.
The fact that she seemed to have held onto some of her girlish innocence only made her that much more enticing. There was nothing more exciting than showing a girl who had all the right, perfectly-made parts exactly how to use them. Teaching her how much potential there was in that tiny little body—
Stop!
This was Roxy, for Christ’s sake.
If there was one girl in the entire universe that was strictly off-limits to me, it was this one right here.
But my mind—which was invariably controlled by my di
ck—didn’t get that message.
She chuckled dryly. “It’s ironic, actually.”
“What’s ironic?”
She peeked up at me through those damnable dark lashes. “I think I’m in danger of getting into more trouble with you inside this church than with anyone I could have met at Yale.”
At those softly-spoken words, my dick powered up to fully-charged hardness.
She had no fucking idea just how much trouble I could actually be for her.
And not all of that had to do with our families’ discontent.
The D’Angelos and the Rossettis weren’t exactly enemies, but there was no way in hell she and I should have even been speaking to each other. Our fathers would both shit themselves if they saw us like this. And Vinnie D’Angelo would most assuredly shoot me dead if he knew the kinds of fantasies my mind had conjured up about his voluptuous daughter.
I lowered my head, bringing our faces closer together. “I can’t tell if you think that’s a good or bad thing, Rox.”
She tilted her head to the side, as if wanting to go in for a kiss. Instead, she just stared into my eyes for a moment, practically peering straight into my soul.
“We shouldn’t be here, Ace.”
“Everyone’s welcome in church.”
She licked those lips invitingly, and it took every ounce of my control not to wrap my own around them.
“We shouldn’t be talking,” she amended. “Papà won’t tell me what’s going on with the families, but I suspect you know all about it. I also suspect you won’t tell me anything either.”
No, I wouldn’t. Because she didn’t need to know.
It would only put her in more danger.
“And even though everyone’s keeping me in the dark like I’m some helpless, hysterical woman,” she continued in a firmer voice, “I do know that us being around each other would only make things worse. I told Papà that if he doesn’t want to involve me in his business, then I want absolutely no part in it. This bullshit touched our family in the worst way five years ago, and I’m done with all of it. Staying away from you and your family is one way of ensuring I don’t get pulled back into it. I didn’t come back here for drama.”
The thing was, she had already been pulled back into it, though she didn’t know it. Nor did she know why Vinnie had brought her back here in the first place. And neither did I.
But I would damn well find out.
Because if there was one thing I knew about the boss of the D’Angelo family, it was that Vinnie never did anything without an agenda. He had a reputation for being a mastermind.
The words came unbidden out of my mouth before I could suck them back in. “And what if I can’t stay away?”
Her brow furrowed, as if she were genuinely confused. She definitely didn’t understand her own appeal.
“You’ve done it for almost my entire life,” she said with a little edge. “I think you’ll make it three more months.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
Her head reared back in surprise. I stayed silent, waiting for her to work that comment out. When she huffed with impatience, I got a whiff of her peppermint gum.
Damn, but I wanted that mouth on mine.
“I mean it, Ace,” she said in a harder tone. “No more running into each other, okay? Papà has eyes all over the city.”
So do I.
She didn’t know how skilled I was with a computer. I could hack into almost any system the average person used on a daily basis. If I wanted to, I could keep a constant eye on her from so many different devices when I couldn’t do it personally.
But I had a feeling that with Roxy, I was going to prefer the up close and personal method.
I grinned. “I can’t guarantee that, Rox. The city is smaller than it seems.”
“It’s not that small.” Her expression sharpened. “You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.”
Since the East River literally separated Manhattan from Brooklyn, she meant for me to stay on my side of the divide and she would stay in her territory in Hell’s Kitchen.
Yeah, I’ll get right on that.
“I’ll do my best,” I said. “But I take jobs all over the five boroughs. I make no promises.”
It was clear I wouldn’t be able to maintain any kind of ruse with her. She was too perceptive and intelligent. Just like this conversation, she would see through my subterfuge.
She stood there taking my measure, shoulders back, chin up. A weird sense of pride filled me at seeing how she had found her confidence since leaving. Life had tried to beat her down five years ago, but she had apparently given it the finger and fought back.
Good girl.
“Don’t toy with me, Ace. I’m not one of your gadgets. Things aren’t the way they used to be.”
No, they sure as hell weren’t.
Because when she stepped around me and started to walk away without another word, I wanted to yank her back and let her feel every hard inch of how she affected me. Couldn’t say I ever did that when we were younger. Instead, I settled for watching the way her hips swayed back and forth in her shorts. The walk looked practiced, but I knew Roxy well enough to know it was a wholly unconscious habit.
“Just for the record,” I called out. She glanced back, flipping her wavy hair over her shoulder. “All that growing up agrees with you.”
She spun back around with a haughty air of indignance and stomped off.
But I saw the pink tinge rise on her cheeks.
You can’t hide your reactions from me, little Roxy.
Things were about to go down this summer, and both of our families would be involved. Keeping Roxy safe would be my highest priority because I didn’t trust anyone else to do the job right. Growing up, I’d protected her just as I had Gia. But I’d be protecting Roxy now in a much different way and for a whole other reason.
Because yes, her safety was of utmost importance.
But something equally pressing had just come up.
And it likely had the imprint of my zipper on it.
That sneaky little minx.
Of all the places Roxy could have been in the entire city, she was in fucking Brooklyn.
At eleven o’clock at night.
At a hospital, in a sketchy-ass neighborhood.
Yeah, right, she could get into more trouble with me inside a church. Ha!
If I ever wanted to check in on her, it wasn’t hard to locate her phone’s GPS signal. When I’d pulled it up earlier and seen the signal slowly approaching my part of the city, I dropped everything I was doing and discreetly followed her. I’d watched her emerge from the subway tunnel, immediately piecing things together once I saw the scrubs she was wearing. Figured she must have gotten a job at a hospital or clinic somewhere.
And I’d grinned to myself.
I knew she couldn’t have sat around all summer doing nothing. That just wasn’t her way.
But I never expected her destination to be Crown Heights…four blocks from my house.
I thought she’d made a mistake and gotten confused. I’d half-expected her to turn around and get right back on the train. But nope. She’d walked confidently from the station, down a few blocks, and into this hospital like she belonged there.
It had taken me approximately three minutes to hack into the hospital’s employee records and find Roxy’s file. She had taken a summer internship in the emergency room, something I could admit had surprised me. For some reason, I’d seen her going into family medicine or something along those lines. I couldn’t picture her in a bustling emergency ward, surrounded by blood and needles and sickness.
No, you don’t want to picture that.
True.
Shit happened in emergency rooms. I’d seen enough of it with my own eyes. All manner of patients walked in there, some fucking psycho-crazy, some diseased, and some flat-out dangerous. Roxy would be in the middle of all that, during all hours of the day and night, it would seem.
Her shift started at t
wo o’clock that afternoon, and she had yet to clock out. I knew because I’d kept track on the hospital’s computer system from my phone—they really needed to update their firewalls—after I’d left earlier to do a couple of installs. Now I was back, sitting in my car across the street, waiting for her to come out.
Fuck.
I really was turning into my older brother Cris.
He’d told me he had basically “kept tabs” on his now-fiancé for months before he’d officially introduced himself. No, he wasn’t insane. He had just wanted to give her time to make a name for herself as New York’s hottest new fashion designer before staking his claim. Then he’d finally swooped in to lock down what he’d already thought was his. Needless to say, Jasmine hadn’t exactly been too happy when she’d learned all of that.
But mine and Roxy’s situation was a little more complicated.
For one, Jasmine wasn’t a member of the five families.
Yep. Roxy—inadvertently or not—belonged to the New York mafia.
Her father Vinnie was the boss of the D’Angelo family. The other four were the Mancini, Rinaldi, Ferraro, and Esposito families. The Espositos had been running the show in New York for decades. But with long-time boss Raphael Esposito now in prison and about to go on trial for attempted murder, conspiracy, and a whole bunch of other shit, turmoil had been running the mafia more than anything else over the past year. Then a few months ago, Stefano Esposito, Raphael’s son, was killed after he’d gone after Cris and Jasmine.
My family was responsible for both Raphael’s imprisonment and Stefano’s death.
That had sort of put us in the hot seat.
Because the Rossettis? We were the exiled “sixth family” you never heard about.
Because we didn’t want you to.
All six families had come to the U.S. from Sicily together in the early 1900s. But my ancestors had turned away from that life after the deeds of the other families had quickly turned toward greed, corruption, and violence. The Rossettis had comfortably settled in Brooklyn, while their Italian counterparts stayed in Manhattan and eventually claimed Hell’s Kitchen as their sacred territory.
My family was honorable.
We saw how the mafia terrorized and victimized innocent civilians, and we took it upon ourselves to defend those people when necessary. We did our best to contain the mafia’s power and influence by stepping in when they began poisoning too much of society. In a way, we felt it was our responsibility, considering those had once been “our people.” Our predecessors had felt guilty for bringing them over from Italy and unleashing them on the American people.
Scars and Sins (Brooklyn Brothers Book 2) Page 3
