“Violet.”
Blowing out an exasperated breath, I force my gaze back to him.
“First, I want you to promise not to make a big deal out of this. It was just a slap across the face, I’m fine.”
His eyes widen at the last part of my sentence before they narrow into tiny slits and his hand curls into a fist.
“Why would she put her hands on you?” he growls, his jaw clenching with every word.
“Rocco, look, just forget I said anything. You’re making it bigger than—”
“Fuck that, Violet,” he shouts. “Your mother has been acting like a world class cunt ever since your brother told her he was going to be moving with me to Miami. She wants to hate me, that’s fine. She wants to push her only son away, that’s her choice too. But she doesn’t get to take that shit out on you. She doesn’t get to put her fucking hands on you especially after what you did for her.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t know that.”
“Maybe she should.”
“No,” I argue, shaking my head. “I appreciate the concern, but this is my problem. You know I’m starting to realize Joaquin has the right idea when it comes to our mother, I just have to figure out how to let go the way he has.” I pause for a moment. “I need to put space between us. Maybe it’s time I get a place of my own that way she isn’t in my business all the time.”
“Violet,” Rocco calls softly, and I turn my head. He opens his mouth to continue but his phone starts to ring. Muttering a curse, he pulls it out of his pocket, and I spot my brother’s name flashing across the screen. Before Rocco can decide if he wants to accept the call or not, I take it out of his hand and swipe my thumb across the screen. Rocco’s eyes flash with fury as I smile sweetly and lift the phone to my ear.
“Well, well, you can pick up the phone to call your friend, but your fingers seem to be broken when it comes to returning your sister’s calls,” I say into the phone.
Rocco raises an eyebrow and when Joaquin replies, I understand my mistake.
“Why are you answering Rocco’s phone?”
Shit.
“Before I answer that, why don’t you answer my question? I’ve been worried about you.”
He sighs through the line.
“Quit worrying, I’m fine.” I don’t buy that for a minute. His girlfriend died in front of his very eyes and he just laid her to rest. He’s alone in another state. No family, no friends. Not to mention his best friend is making headlines. “Now, I’m going to ask you again, why are you answering Rocco’s phone?” he slurs.
Great, let’s add drinking to the list.
That’s always a sure sign that someone is fine.
“I bumped into him and started harassing him about you. Don’t worry, though, he’s still a prick and didn’t give me much.”
“You expect me to believe that?” Joaquin asks.
I don’t get a chance to answer him because Rocco snatches the phone out of my hand. Covering the speaker, he leans forward and his breath wafts past my ear.
“A prick, huh?”
“Well…”
“Go get undressed, I’ll meet you in the bathroom in ten minutes for that bath you promised me. We’ll see how much of a prick I am when I’m fingering you in the tub.”
My cheeks instantly flame and my thighs clench as he pulls away from me. Turning to him, he winks at me and presses the phone to his ear. I suddenly forget all about my mother, my brother, and my dancing struggles. All I can focus on is devilishly handsome man in front of me and all the filthy things he’s about to do to me.
Chapter 21
Rocco Spinelli
“Sorry about that,” I say into the phone as I step out onto the veranda that overlooks the inground swimming pool.
“What the fuck is my sister doing answering your phone?” Joaquin questions.
There is no mistaking the slur in his tone. I noticed he was hitting the bottle a little harder than usual when I was in Miami, but he had good reason and who the fuck am I to tell anyone not indulge when my best friends are Jimmy, Johnny, and Tito.
But I ain’t there to keep tabs on him and while I trust Omar and Manny, they’re not being paid to be Joaquin’s babysitters.
“Are you okay? You sound like you’ve been hitting the bottle a little too hard.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” he scoffs. I glance over my shoulder, through the French doors and watch Violet as she clears the counter and brings our dishes to the sink. Another one who can’t seem to follow instructions, I told her to get naked and she’s fucking cleaning the kitchen. “Why is my sister answering your phone, Rocco?”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I continue to stare at her. Now isn’t the time to tell him that I dismissed my entire crew to be with her tonight. That as soon as I hang up with him I plan on climbing into my clawfoot tub with her and sliding my fingers in and out of her sweet pussy until she comes all over my hand.
“I swung by the Academy to check on her and offered to take her out to dinner. She wanted to cook instead and since I’m not your mother’s favorite person we came back to my place.”
“Your place,” he repeats.
“Yeah, wait to you see this house, man. I think it’s bigger than Uncle Vic’s house. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with this place.”
Drunk and all the man sees through my bullshit, and asks, “When are you taking her home?”
If it was up to me I wouldn’t ever take her back there—not after she told me Flora got handsy with her. I don’t know what the fuck that woman’s problem is, but someone needs to sit her down and set her straight once and for all. I really don’t want that person to be me because growing up I had a lot of respect for her, but it’s like a fucking switch flipped, and she lost her goddamn mind.
“She shouldn’t be at your house, Rocco. You’re fucking hot right now. Your face is on every goddamn newspaper. People are watching you and they see Violet with you, they’re going to think the two of you are involved and then she becomes a fucking target. I won’t lose my sister to this shit too.”
He chokes on those last words and my throat grows dry.
“No one is going to touch Violet,” I grind out. “Not now, not fucking ever.” I’d fucking destroy anyone who tries. I’d burn down all of New York before anyone even got close. “You have my word on that. But she’s worried about you, man. She puts up a good front, but I know she’s still reeling from what happened.”
He remains quiet and I start to contemplate whether I should mention this new development with Flora or not. Joaquin doesn’t need any more shit added to his plate—to be fair neither do I—but I know I’m not going to let this go. I’m not that kind of guy.
“You still with me?” I ask, scratching at the scruff lining my jaw.
“Yeah, I’ll try to call her more often,” he says finally.
“That would be good, brother, because I’m fairly certain things aren’t great at home for her.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? They need money or something? I sent Vi—”