“I’m just going to make sure he’s right for my cousin.”
“No, you’re going to say something bat shit crazy to scare the fuck out of him and make him try to run the second you leave him alone in our house.”
“Maybe, but don’t worry, Angel. I’ll keep him safe for you. You can trust me on that.”
I knew I could. Devil might be jumping at the chance to scare Cameron, but Cameron could hold his own, and Devil would never let anyone hurt him. “You want to tell me more about you and this cop?”
“Hell fucking no. I want to get on with interrogating your man.”
I flipped him off and went to see what I could learn about the shit that had gone down that night, even though all I wanted to do was take Cameron home and get him in bed again.
21
Cameron
I followed Devil down the street to a flashy sports car that was parked illegally. He beeped it open, and I reluctantly got in. From the moment I’d met Angelo, I’d been intrigued by him. Sure, I’d also been a little afraid of him, but once I’d realized he didn’t intend to spend the school year tormenting me, I stop being paralyzed with fear around him. Devil, on the other hand, continued to scare the fuck out of me. He always seemed a little unhinged, and the few minutes I’d just spent in the bakery with him hadn’t convinced me he’d mellowed with age.
He didn’t say anything as he started the car and darted out into traffic without looking. I grabbed on to the door and braced myself for a crash.
“It might be easier if you just close your eyes. At least that’s what most people say about my driving.”
He was probably right, but I didn’t take his advice.
“Angel’s worried I’m going to scare you off, but that’s not going to happen is it?”
“No.” If I decided to try to end things with Angelo—in an alternate universe where he’d actually let me—I’d do it because I chose, not because of something Devil said.
“Good. Everything will go smoothly between us if you promise me one thing.”
I did not like how ominous that sounded. “What do you want?”
“I want to know you’re not going to hurt my cousin.”
“Me? Hurt him?”
“Yes.” Devil took his eyes off the road for much too long as he gave me a dark look. “You’ve probably made a lot of assumptions about Angel.”
“I did, but I’ve already learned some of them are wrong.”
“It would be best if you just went ahead and decided they’re all wrong. He’s not the man you think he is.”
“A killer? A criminal? A man who decides what he wants and takes it no matter what?”
Devil burst out laughing. “All right. Maybe you do know him pretty well after all. He’s all those fucking things, but that’s not what I meant.”
“You meant that despite all that, he likes to help people, that once he considers you part of his circle, he’ll do anything for you, that he’s quite the food critic, a bit of a wine snob, and really fucking loyal.”
Devil glanced over at me wide-eyed. The car swerved, and he barely managed to keep us from slamming into a large truck. “Do you know how few fucking people know any of that shit about Angel?”
“You and Lucien?”
“Pop and Aunt Sabrina probably know all that, and Peter—Lucien’s boyfriend—is learning.”
“Your family’s really close, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, we are. Every one of us would die for the others, so don’t forget that. You cross Angel, you cross all of us. We will hunt you down no matter where you go, and you won’t like it when we catch you.”
“Shouldn’t you be more worried about Angelo hurting me? I mean, what am I going to do to him? He’s stronger than me, richer than me. He could take back my business because of what I owe your family.”
“You know exactly what I mean. I promised him I wouldn’t say too much, but whether you believe it or not, he’s got a heart. A big one. Don’t you dare fucking break it.”
Me? Break Angelo’s heart? I’d be more likely to break his dick.
When we arrived at the Marchesis’ house, it was obvious Angelo had called to let them know I’d be staying there. Lola was waiting for us as soon as we came in the door. Before Devil had even finished introducing me to her, a man with blond hair who looked several years younger than me and a curly-haired woman who was probably in her fifties came down the stairs, clearly eager to see what was going on.
The woman held out her hand to me. “Hi, Cameron. I’m Sabrina, Angelo’s aunt, his father’s sister. I can’t wait to get to know more about you. Angelo has refused to tell us anything. Of course we know you own Art’s Bakery and that Angel is completely smitten with you, but—”