The Killer's New Obsession - Page 34

We stayed like that for a while. I turned my head and could see the smoke still. I heard the fire department spraying water into that bar, and I hoped nobody got hurt.

Or at least nobody innocent.

After a while, he kissed me gently, and helped me get dressed again. Then we drove back to his place, and I slept deeper than I had in years.

13

Irene

I had to get out of that apartment before I did something stupid, like jump his bones while he was in the shower, or walk out into the living room naked and beg for him to touch me.

So that morning, after he left to meet up with his guys to do whatever the hell gangsters did all day, probably drink whiskey and talk in really deep voices and get in fistfights with each other, I headed downstairs, called an Uber, and had it take me out to Don Valentino’s house.

It was probably stupid. Bea’s offer was probably empty, but it was the only safe place I knew, and I really wanted to get away from Cam and everything that reminded me of him. The Uber dropped me off and sped away, and I walked up those stairs to the big door and hesitated before ringing the bell.

If Bea was surprised to see me, she didn’t let it show. “I’m so happy you took me up on my offer,” she said. “Come inside. Want some tea?”

“Please,” I said, following her along that dark and opulent hallway and into the kitchen. Several men worked chopping and preparing a meal.

“Don’t mind them,” Bea said. “Chef Jorge’s a kitten in a lion’s body.”

“All I heard was I’m a lion,” a man in black and white striped pants and a white jacket said, brandishing a big knife.

Bea set the kettle to boil. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked.

I hesitated, not sure what to tell her. I could say that I was trying to escape Cam’s place because all I kept thinking about was how badly I wanted to sleep with him, but I knew the cooks would only make some joke about that, and besides, I didn’t know Bea well enough yet to say anything. Then again, she worked for the mafia, so she’d probably seen and heard some pretty crazy things in her time.

“Just wanted to get away from the apartment for a little while and I didn’t think anywhere else was safe,” I said, which was truth enough.

“You made the right choice then,” Bea said, beaming, but before she could say more, an intercom on the wall buzzed. She frowned at it and struggled to her feet. “Sorry, dear, but the Don’s calling,” she said.

My eyes went wide. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he was home,” I said.

“Don’t worry, he has a lunch meeting.” She gestured vaguely toward Chef Jorge. “Feel free to wait here and pour the tea for yourself, or head down to the pool if you like. It’s a nice day out.”

“Thanks,” I said, cheeks red. I felt really awkward and like I was imposing.

“Honestly, go make yourself at home,” she said, waving a hand. “It’s a big house and someone might as well use it.” She left with a smile and disappeared from the kitchen.

I waited for the water to boil, poured myself some in a mug, and dipped in the teabag. I got out of that kitchen before Chef Jorge or the other young cooks could draw me into a conversation and slipped down a short hall that ended in an enormous living room. The floor was covered in rich, heavy, expensive rugs, and the walls were covered in paintings and photographs. A life-size set of real plate armor stood in a corner, and enormous fern plants dotted the space, like it was some rich man’s idea of the jungle. I hurried through it and to the back door then marched down to the pool.

Bea was right, it was gorgeous outside. An inflatable giraffe floated on the water as I took a chair beneath a big umbrella. The shade was perfect, and the water made tiny waves every time the breeze came through. I sipped the tea and stared across the grounds at the sea of grass, how it was perfectly manicured and rolled down to the forest beyond, and I felt like I was the last person on Earth and utterly alone.

Which wasn’t true, of course. The house had a bunch of mafia guys inside it, but I could pretend anyway.

At least I wasn’t in Cam’s apartment. I stretched my legs and leaned my head back, resting my tea in my lap. It was warm, in contrast to the cool breeze, and I smelled lilies and pollen on the air. Somehow it reminded me of Cam, even if it had nothing to do with him—his strong arms, his full lips, and body taking mine, again and again, making me sweat, making me—

Tags: B.B. Hamel Romance
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