Ruthless Prince (Dark Syndicate 1)

l we say I Do, you’re still on the market.” He’s being serious.

“Oh… well, then I’m ready to go.”

Placing his hand to the small of my back, he guides me out. I feel like I should have said goodbye to the ladies, but it’s okay.

Giacomo didn’t speak to me. I didn’t expect him to. I think I wouldn’t have known what to say.

We get into the car and head back to the place I’m now calling home. When we pass the diner, my heart aches and I think of Jacob. I couldn’t lie to Massimo earlier. I wanted to lie because truthfully, Jacob has never told me how he felt about me. It would have been easy to lie and say I had no knowledge of him wanting to be more than friends. I couldn’t do it though. And I think Massimo would have seen straight through me.

When we’re about halfway to the house, the silence gets to me. I want to at least have some idea what his father thought of me. The guys were off talking for a long time. It feels awful when you know people are talking about you. While I don’t mean to be self-centered in thinking they spent the whole time talking about me, I’m sure I was discussed. It’s a given that I would be.

I turn to Massimo and take in the outline of his sharp features against the mingle of moonlight and the soft amber glow from the lights inside the car. Sometimes I find myself looking at him because his features are so striking. Other times, I look at him because he’s a mystery and a wonder. A man who can change like the wind in temperament, but also one with secrets. Many secrets.

“What?” he asks. The deep baritone of his voice pierces through the blanket of silence that’s nestled over the car.

“I was just thinking,” I begin. “Thinking about what your father thought of me.”

“He didn’t say anything,” Massimo says. I’m not too sure how I should take that. Is that good or bad? It can’t be good, surely. “Don’t read too much into it, Princesca. That’s how he is.”

I consider that for a moment and think back to when we first arrived at the house. Giacomo didn’t have the same malicious vibe I’d witnessed in my father’s office. I’d say tonight almost felt like Massimo and I could have just gone to a family dinner.

“It was nice of him to introduce me,” I state. It’s true. He didn’t have to, and I could tell it set the flow for the way everyone else should treat me.

“It was.”

It’s starts to rain. Massimo reaches for the ornate dashboard of his car to switch the radio on. He finds a jazz channel and settles for it.

I take note of little things like that because this man is the definition of a closed book. I was surprised days ago when he shared so much about his mother. Now I know he likes Jazz.

“You like Jazz,” I state and feel better when the corners of his lips turn up into a sensual smile.

“I do. It calms the soul. Just like my car.”

I chuckle. He turns fully to look at me. I notice whenever I smile or laugh, he always gives me a look of fascination.

“Your car calms your soul?” I ask, trying not to laugh.

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. I savor the sound because I made him do it.

“My car calms my soul.”

“How? I get that Jazz does. I like Jazz, but how in the world would your car do the same thing?”

“It just does, Princess. This one does.”

“Does it have anything to do with the fact that it’s a big ole Bugatti? A sure sign of wealth?”

He smirks. “I don’t fucking care about that. If you got it, flaunt it. I like nice things. I didn’t always have wealth, so I guess I indulge when I want to.”

I think about that, about him not always having wealth, and try to imagine what it must have been like for him. Not everyone has the privilege of living as lavishly as I have all my life. I think it would be hard to go from having everything to nothing, then having to rebuild.

“A Bugatti is a good make,” he states. “I look at it and remember how far I’ve come. It’s a trusty car.”

He’s about to say something else when the car stalls and jerks. There’s a screeching sound, and then the car slows down. Massimo steers it over to the roadside, where it cuts out.

“Fuck, what the hell is this now?” he snaps and tries to restart the car. It doesn’t work. The hazard lights switch on, but that’s all. I don’t know much about cars, but I can take an educated guess that this car won’t be moving anywhere tonight. The electronics seem to be gone, which means it needs to go in to a mechanic.

“What’s wrong with it?” I ask.