I nodded, not sure what he wanted to try but trusting him anyway. He gently pushed me against the car and moved to cup my cheeks. My breath caught in my throat. "I’m going to kiss you, Killer," he said softly.
My heart started to race. Attraction and excitement ignited within me. "Okay," I replied, not sure what else to say.
Anthony’s lips were soft and timid at first. I patiently waited for him to find his groove, and kept my fists balled at my side to keep myself from grabbing him. He smiled triumphantly against my lips, and I felt with complete certainty that there was definitely a spark between us. He moved more intentionally after a lingering moment. His tongue lapped at the seam of my lips. He moaned and pressed his body against mine. It took everything I had not to thread my fingers through his hair and tug at the wavy strands.
His hands lowered, and he touched the sensitive skin on my neck. He outlined my breast with his palm, and I felt his hard erection pressing against my stomach. "Fuck," he cursed. He had me panting. Melting. I wanted more, and with Anthony, there was no question of if this was right or wrong. I didn’t feel disgusted with myself for liking him. He was the safe choice. The brother who liked me back.
"Touch me," he whispered between kisses. I accepted his demand and ran my hands up and down his chest. Slowly, slowly, slowly. I made sure he could predict every move of my hands. I noticed that his lips had stopped moving. And when I reached for his neck, he flinched.
"Sorry," I whispered before pulling away. He snapped his hands up and wrapped them around my wrists.
"Please don’t apologize. That was...amazing. Incredible."
Happy tears filled his eyes, and I felt overwhelmed by his joy. His expression was so incredibly soft that I wanted to touch his cheeks and revel in it. It was such a vivid picture of relief. Our kiss was brilliant and beautiful. I couldn’t imagine how amazing it felt to finally trust someone enough to do that. "You’re a really good kisser," I choked out. My panties were drenched. He was leaving me wanting, but I wasn’t upset. If anything, it made me more anxious for the next kiss—the next step.
He wiped a stray tear, and I found myself feeling thankful that he’d let me be a part of this moment. He quickly patted his pockets, then cursed. "Fuck. I left my keys inside. I’ll be right back."
I watched his back as he jogged back up to the restaurant, a happy lift to his steps. Pressing the tips of my fingers to my plush lips, I mulled over what had just happened until I heard my phone ring. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled it out and answered without looking at the caller ID.
"Juliet?" Vicky’s voice boomed into the receiver. "William just called me and said you were with Anthony. What are you doing?"
I winced. I didn’t know how to tell my best friend what just happened. Not only had I broken every rule in girl code, but I’d also betrayed her trust. For the entirety of our relationship, she made it clear that she wanted me to stay away from this life—from her family. But I’d dove headfirst. I kissed them. I kissed all of them. I worked at their club. I was living in their home.
"We went to dinner," I whispered, feeling shame.
"Whatever. Anthony doesn’t go to dinner with people. He doesn’t like crowds. Hell, he eats in his death dungeon most days. What are you really doing, Juliet? I mean seriously. I’m not there, and I’m hearing things. Things I don’t like." There was an edge to her tone. It sounded like a threat.
I didn’t know how to respond. "You’re not here," I whispered. "I feel like I’m forced to navigate something I don’t understand. I miss my best friend."
"And I miss you too, but why are you spending so much time with my brothers?" She wasn’t letting me dance around the subject. I wasn’t prepared for this confrontation, but I knew we needed to talk.
I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see the move. "Anthony has been really nice to me. Grams went to California to visit her sister, and I miss you, and this whole thing has been pretty fucked up. He’s been kind to me, Vicky. He’s sweet and funny."
"He’s sick, Juliet," Vicky hissed. I stared at the concrete. "He’ll never live a normal life. He goes on killing sprees when he feels out of control of a situation. You talk about killers on your little podcast, so you think you know what you can handle, but I once found Anthony bathed in blood at the barber shop because a man that looked like his abuser walked in. Protecting him is a full-time job. You can think he’s cute and fun. He loves deeply, but he’s not safe. I’m saying this as someone who loves you both—stay the fuck away. All of my brothers are literally insane. You’ve only just scratched the surface. Anthony will always be controlled by the trauma he experienced."
I hadn’t even realized that I was holding my breath. My eyes were locked on the ground. I struggled to come to terms with everything she’d said, but what upset me most was how little she thought of him. Anthony loved Vicky deeply. She comforted him. She helped him and treated him like a human. If Anthony heard what she’d just said, he’d be crushed. I loved Vicky, and I understood why she was trying to protect me, but it was still shitty of her to say. "I think you’re wrong, Vicky. I think Anthony is so much more than what happened to him."
My phone was ripped from my hands before I could hear her response. I hadn’t even heard Anthony walk up, and suddenly felt ashamed to know that he’d heard at least my side of the conversation. His face was blank, and I hated myself for it, but I found myself searching his expression for the uncontrollable rage hiding under the surface. "Hey, sis," Anthony said with a genuine smile. "I know you’re worried about us. Love you too." And then he hung up the phone. I held out my hand for him to give it back to me, but his expression contorted. Fury seeped through every pore, every harsh angle. He reared back and tossed my cell phone as hard as he could into the distance before letting out a harsh scream.
It was blisteringly loud, covering the sound of the phone crashing against the concrete. The veins bulged in his neck as he yelled. I watched him without shame, taking in the full force of this moment.
His voice cracked, and he stopped yelling to pant. I let him steady his breath for a long moment before speaking. "Anthony?" I tenderly said. I wanted to reach out and touch him, comfort him.
"Let’s go, Killer," he whispered.
And we got in his car. And we drove back to the Civella Mansion. And I wondered what was going on inside Anthony’s beautiful mind.
19
The Rolex on William’s wrist glimmered in the sunlight. He had one hand on the steering wheel of his Porsche convertible and one hand on my upper thigh. He’d given me a Chanel head wrap to hold my brown hair back and some Prada sunglasses to block out the early morning sun. I felt like an old Hollywood starlet as we cruised down the highway toward downtown. The destination was a surprise, but I was enjoying the trip, especially since the company looked so handsome.
Early this morning, William strutted into the guest room with a wardrobe bag draped over his arm, and he told me to be downstairs in twenty minutes. I eagerly got ready, excited to spend the day with my silent stranger despite his demanding early morning greeting. I was giddy for the chance to see him in his element—to learn more about him. I also wanted out of the house. It felt like every day was a revolving schedule of work, sleep, and more work.