Chapter 6
Grace
I wake up only a few hours later alone in the strange bed with odd dreams still swirling through my head: Riley sitting at the top of a pine tree throwing acorns down at me and laughing and laughing as she sings, Calvino and Gracie sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-N-G.
I wait for the face of my cousin to fade from my mind before I get up, pull on a fresh shirt, and slip out into the main room. I expect Calvino to be asleep, but of course the smell of coffee hits me and I find him standing in the kitchen, awake and already facing the world. Does this man ever sleep? Apparently not.
He stands next to the coffee maker sipping from a mug. He’s shirtless and his skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat, his muscles hard and bulging and incredible, his tattoos drifting along his chest and abdomen. Bird’s wings flutter along his side and a skull with a knife through it covers one pec, its eyes seeming like they’re laughing at me. I can’t stop looking at him as a smile spreads across his lips.
“You’re up early,” he says like a purr.
“Did you even sleep?”
“Told you last night. I don’t sleep much these days.” He tilts his head, studying me. “Have you been thinking about our conversation?”
Yes, I’ve been thinking about it, I’ve been freaking dreaming of that kiss and tasting it on my lips over and over, obsessively delving into all the little details and driving me insane.
“A little bit.”
He smirks like he doesn’t believe me. “And have you made up your mind?”
“Yes.” I raise my chin and stare him in the eye. My heart’s racing, and I know I’m about to leap down into a black pit and never crawl back out again, but what other choice do I have? Become another name for some true crime podcast to obsess about or fight for my cousin and my life.
I say, “I’ll do it,” and I try to sound confident, even if I’m not.
He nods as if he knew I’d say that and I cross my arms over my chest, protectively covering my breasts from his gaze and I think of that kiss the night before for the thousandth time, and wonder if maybe that was the dream—but no, I can still taste him on my tongue and feel his hand in my hair pulling hard and claiming me. That was real, so real it left a mark in my brain like a hot brand.
“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing now?” I ask as he drifts past me and walks to the windows. I grab a mug and fill it before I follow.
He doesn’t look back, only stares out at a foggy morning, uncharacteristic clouds drifting across the sun and casting gray light across the buildings and the palm trees. He rolls his neck and I feel a thrill as I stare at the chiseled muscles in his back and down along his shoulders. This man has no right to exist, no right to be so sinfully gorgeous and so absolutely horrible at the same time.
“Eight months ago, my brother became the Don of the LA mafia,” he says as if he’s talking to someone else. I stand very still, sipping the piping hot coffee, and try to focus on his words and not his body, which is surprisingly hard. “There was an accident, a fire in one of my family’s vacation homes. The whole place burned to the ground, and my mother and my father didn’t make it out alive.”
I chew on my lip as nerves spike into my gut. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly, not sure what the appropriate response is considering I’m not talking to a normal human right now, but I’m guessing that’s about right. Even a man like him must mourn the loss of his parents, especially in something as brutal as a house fire.
He makes a dismissive gesture. “My father was a bastard and I won’t miss him, but my mother deserved better. I remember my dad would always call her his wonderful lady, wonderful lady, and I always thought if she was so wonderful, why the hell did he treat her like garbage? Like she worthless. But he was right, she was a good person, the only decent person in my life. She deserved a life without her husband and a decent retirement in her old age. But she got neither of those things.”
“Were you close with her?”
“I was closer with my mother than with anyone in this family, but she’s gone now. That night, there were two other people in the house, and both of them survived.” He turns to look at me, his face twisted into a visceral snarl. “My brother and his wife.”