Devil (The Marchesi Family 3)

“What happens now?” he asked.

“We get some sleep.”

He gave me a confused look. “You mean here? Together?”

“Well, it would be silly to get a hotel when you’ve got a perfectly good bed right here, and I can’t exactly bring you home with me. My family’s seen me do some crazy fucking shit, but showing up with the detective who’s investigating us would be really hard to explain.”

“I didn’t mean… You want to sleep with me? As in actually sleep?”

My chest tightened. I’d made an assumption that Joe wanted that. I was sure this was more than hot sex for him. I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t. He would’ve kicked me out after he fucked me, or we would’ve fought when he tried to bring me in for stealing evidence. But wanting to fuck me didn’t mean he wanted me wrapped around him in bed while he slept. “I can just tuck you in and leave instead.”

“No. I… It just never occurred to me that you would want to. What the fuck is happening here?”

“Let’s not analyze it. Let’s just get some sleep.”

I had a feeling he usually didn’t sleep much better than he ate. But that night, after I settled behind him and spooned my body around his, he was sound asleep in minutes. His breathing was even, and the tension was gone from his body.

Sleep didn’t come that easily for me. I lay there for a long time wondering what the fuck I was doing and how I would ever tell my family.

In the middle of the night I sat up, gasping for air.

“Devil, are you all right?”

I glanced around, expecting to see Angelo. I was still half caught in the nightmare. But it wasn’t my cousin calling my name. It was Joe. I was safe in Joe’s room, not in a cold park looking down at a boy’s lifeless body.

“I… I’m fine… I just…”

“A nightmare?”

I nodded.

“Come here.” Joe pulled me into his arms, and I sank into him, needing his warmth.

Joe’s alarm jolted me awake the next morning. I never got up before ten unless Lucien made me come into the office for a morning meeting. I hadn’t thought about Joe needing to be at work early.

He groaned as he slapped at his phone, trying to make the alarm stop.

I slid out of bed. “I guess I’d better get out of here.”

“Yeah, I have to get to work, and I… Fuck, Devil. How am I supposed to pretend none of this happened?”

“Go to work. Do your job. I’ll text you later.”

I headed to the office since my clothes were still there on the floor. I saw my phone lying beside my jeans and realized I hadn’t looked at it since Joe had caught me. I had a shit load of texts and missed calls from Angelo, Lucien, and Sabrina. I scanned through the texts. They started out asking if I’d be home that night. Angelo wanted to talk to me about something. Lucien wanted to know why I’d taken off, and Sabrina wanted to know why I’d seemed upset. When I hadn’t responded, their texts had become increasingly worried. I dashed off a quick text to Angelo letting him know I was fine and would be home for breakfast.

A breakfast interrogation. Just what I wanted.

I was pulling on my jeans when Joe came into the office. “I need the ring back.”

How had he known I’d put it in my pocket? I flashed him a mock innocent expression. “What ring?”

“The ring you left at a crime scene. The one you took from my lockbox.”

“Here’s the thing. My grandmother gave it to me when I turned sixteen. It’s special, and I can’t risk it being lost for good.”

“So you admit it’s yours?”

“It’s mine. Like I said, I left it to be repaired, and it was stolen from the jewelry store.”

He shook his head. “You’re totally fucking lying.”

“You’ll never prove that.”

“Maybe not, but I still need it back. It’s evidence in a murder investigation.”

“I need this ring, and I’m taking it.” Angelo needed it back. Sooner or later Lucien was going to realize the ring on Angelo’s finger didn’t have a deep gouge in it like this one did.

“Devil—”

“Give me this and I’ll owe you a favor.”

“I told you I wasn’t making any more deals with you.”

“Then give me the ring as a friend.”

“The ring is evidence. It’s not something I can just give away. I’ve already compromised my job for you over and over.”

At least he didn’t deny we were friends. “Then it won’t matter if you do it again.”

“It matters to me.” He reached for me, but I stepped back and grabbed his wrist. I held his gaze as I said a word I rarely used unless I was talking to Lola or an older relative or begging during sex.