I brushed the mystery of the suitcase off and gave into the anger that washed over me. He didn’t get to crawl into bed with me, kiss me and touch me—leave me hanging—and then throw orders at me.
“You got ten minutes to get dressed,” he said.
“Or what?”
“Or I’m taking you to the airport dressed like that.”
“I’m not wearing panties.”
“Yeah, I got that much,” he growled.
“I bet you did,” I taunted, cocking my head to the side. I tossed the comforter off my body, crossed my leg over my knee and gave him a glimpse of what he turned down. Then his words sank in. “Wait a minute—did you say you’re taking me to the airport?”
Keeping his eyes between my legs, he said, “Sure did.”
I jumped out of bed and tugged the t-shirt down my thighs.
“My flight isn’t until tomorrow and Joaquin needs me.”
He lifted his chin.
“You’re the last thing Joaquin needs. Now, stop taunting me with your pretty little pussy and get dressed before I get my ass handed to me.”
“By who?”
“Not your concern. Just do as I say.”
I want to tell you that I put up a good fight. That I didn’t let him get the last word, but Rocco turned on his heel and exited the room before I could reply. I weighed my options, recalling the night before and how I tried to talk to my brother. He was distraught and barely paid me any mind. I couldn’t be mad at him, though, or press him to confide in me. He was mourning and that screws with a person. Still, it stung knowing he didn’t want me around.
Not to console him or help him deal with his grief.
He just wanted me gone and out of his hair.
I’m not even certain he wanted me in Miami before the shooting. To my brother, I was a nuisance. A complication he didn’t need.
Rocco wasn’t the only one who had changed since taking a position in Victor Pastore’s organization, so had Joaquin and I was starting to hate the man everyone in our neighborhood respected. Victor had taken the two men in my life and molded them into villains. So you can imagine how fucking ticked I was when we arrived at the airport and boarded his private jet and to make matters worse, the don himself was accompanying us back to New York.
He seemed just as surprised as me, though.
“I didn’t know you were bringing a guest, Rocco,” Victor crooned, smiling at me.
“You said you didn’t give a shit, and this is all I could come up with,” Rocco replied. “You won’t even know she’s here, isn’t that right, Bug?”
That was the straw the broke the camel’s back.
First, my friends bail on me. Then I get stranded at the airport because my brother forgets to pick me up. But, wait, the birthday fun was just getting started! Rocco aimed a gun at my head, I got all dressed up for dinner and dancing—didn’t get dinner and forget the dancing. There was a shoot-out, a woman died, and Rocco treated me like his personal plaything.
I was done.
So fucking done.
Faking a smile, I elbowed Rocco in the gut. I would’ve kneed him in the balls, but he was standing beside me and Marlon Brando had his eyes on me.
“Fuck,” Rocco hissed. “What the hell was that for?”
“The list is long, take your pick,” I snapped.
Victor looked between us and barked out a laugh before extending his hand to me.
“We didn’t get a chance to be formally introduced.”
“Yeah, the gunfire kinda put a wrench in that,” I said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “I’m Violet.”
“I know who you are, sweetheart,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.
“Yeah, I know who you are too,” I mumbled.
Again, he laughed. I was so glad I could entertain him—not.
Once we were seated and the pilot prepared for takeoff, Victor tried to make small talk with me. He told me how fond he was of my brother and I had to bite my tongue or I would’ve told him his fondness for my brother ruined him. Then he mentioned my mom’s restaurant and how he loved her food. That surprised me because I’m almost certain if he ever walked into my mother’s restaurant, she’d refuse to serve him. But I didn’t say anything. I just nodded my head and smiled.
“So, you two are pretty chummy,” he said observantly, pointing a finger between me and Rocco.
If only he knew how chummy we were a couple of hours ago when we were in bed together.
“She was always hanging around the neighborhood, annoying me and Joaquin hence why I call her Bug,” Rocco supplied as he unscrewed a bottle of water. It looked as though it physically pained him to drink something other than liquor.
“Surely, you can come up with a better nickname for such a beautiful young lady,” Victor chastised.
“Or he can just call me Violet,” I said.
“He’s thickheaded, my nephew.”
“He’s an asshole is what he is.”
“No arguments here,” Victor agreed, a smirk on his face.
“And on that note, I’m going to take a fucking leak,” Rocco declared, ripping his seatbelt off.
“The pilot didn’t say we could get out of our seats,” I reminded him, cheekily.
“I’ll take my chances,” he grumbled and disappeared to the back of the luxury jet.
“You know, you remind me a lot of my Grace,” Victor said thoughtfully. That comment forced me to bring my eyes back to him. That’s quite the compliment and if I wasn’t scorned by this weekend’s events I’d be flattered. I mean, Grace Pastore is the epitome of class. She’s endearing, sweet, and kind. A queen in her own right.
I wanted to be Grace Pastore, but I was sure I had a lot of work to do.
“With all due respect, your wife and I are nothing alike. She’s much kinder and less outspoken.”
He smiled.
“Don’t be fooled by Grace’s manners. She may be soft spoken and kindhearted, but under all that silk, my Gracie is a force to be reckoned with. She keeps me in check and is the first to tell me when I’m wrong. She’s strong and opinionated and there is nothing she won’t do for her family.” He pauses and crosses his leg over his knee. “I’m sorry you had to see what you saw last night.”
Unable to stop the words from flying out of my mouth, I replied, “Are you sorry for what happened to that girl too?”
He cocked his head to the side and stared at me for a beat.
“What happened to that girl was unfortunate, but it was no fault of mine.”
He said I reminded him of his wife, that she was opinionated and there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her family, so he should respect me for speaking my mind and defending my own family. That’s why I didn’t bite my tongue and asked the next question.
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“You don’t have to believe me, but that don’t make it untrue,” he said pointedly. His gaze cut to the back of the plane to where Rocco disappeared and he continued, “You care about him.”
It wasn’t a question, but rather an observation, one I wasn’t sure how to respond to so I remained silent. Rocco was on my shit list at the moment, but for all the times I hated him, I loved him more. I don’t know if that makes me a fool or what because after he the way he pushed me aside, I’m almost certain nothing will ever come of it.