“I know.” She smiled her understanding. “I think every last one of them has been through the doors of Camilla’s in over the past week,” she joked.
Twenty minutes later, we had everything gleaming to meet Isabella and Christopher’s standards.
“I think we cleaned up alright,” I said as I looked at the surrounding area.
“Thanks for the help.”
“Anytime, Sparky.” I flashed her a wide smile as she prepared to lock up. “Let’s skip the train. I’m going to call an Uber. It’s faster this time of night.”
“With the amount of money you spend on Ubers, you should just buy yourself a car,” she teased.
“I have a car, a Jeep Wrangler. I just never use it unless I have to leave the city.”
“I’ve never once known you to use it. It seems silly to have a car and not drive it.”
“Not really. Off-street parking in New York is hard to come by. If you snag a spot, never move unless you absolutely have to.”
Draping an arm over her shoulders, we walked to the corner of Mulberry and Grand Street. As we stood on the curb, waiting for the Uber to arrive, I felt a few raindrops hit my face. I looked up at the starless sky and smelled the air. Lighting flashed in the distance and I knew a storm was rolling in. Turning to face Val, I circled my arms around her waist and pulled her in.
“Thanks for tonight. It was unexpected and nice.”
“Hmm… you’re welcome,” she murmured and pushed up on her toes to plant a light kiss on my lips. “Are we still hitting Club Revolution this weekend?”
“I’ll do whatever you want if it means I get to see you.”
I leaned down to kiss her again, this time applying a little more pressure. Her acceptance encouraged me to press deeper into her mouth—tasting, possessing. She met every stroke of my tongue as I pulled her in closer, crushing her torso against mine. My fingertips caressed the nape of her neck, gliding over the slope of her collarbone. I was drowning in sensation.
Holy hell…
What this woman did to me was unreal. The feel of her lips on mine rocked me to my very core. If a simple kiss made me feel that way, I could only imagine how she’d feel once I was inside her.
I heard a car pull up next to the curb and knew it was our Uber driver, but I didn’t care. The skies could open up and rain pour down, and the driver could wait in his silver Toyota all night. I cared about none of it. I had no intention of ever removing my mouth from hers until she gave the signal. I could stay lost in her, just like this, all night long.
28
Ethan
New York City
I stood inside Ferrara Bakery with the bill of my Yankees hat pulled low. Blending in with a crowd circling like vultures for a taste of the famous nougat candy hadn’t been too difficult. The location was the perfect vantage point for watching the doors to Camilla’s. I could only hope that my little rouse worked, and Gianna and the good-for-nothing lowlife would be leaving soon.
I seriously didn’t know who that guy thought he was. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him. All I knew was his name was Derek.
Derek.
What kind of name was that anyway? Apparently, Derek thought he could put his hands on my girl—on my wife. Oh, yes, they had thought nobody was watching, but I saw them.
The little slut.
I saw everything.
Anybody walking by could have seen them through the small gap in the partially drawn curtains on the restaurant windows. It was as if she wanted me to see her.
Maybe she did.
After all, my girl liked to taunt me to make me do things I shouldn’t. That had to have been her plan all along. It was a good thing I caused a distraction with the door. Who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t thought ahead to the what-ifs? If I’d allowed things to go further, I might have had to kill her lover, and there was enough heat on me already. No, I didn’t need the aggravation that came with staging an accident. I had more important things to do—like getting my girl back.
I should have come for her months ago. It wasn’t until she seemed to take an interest in the musclehead that I felt the need to come here more often to intervene. I used the toothpaste just to fuck with her—to let her know I was watching. Her infatuation with Derek the Dope would go away soon enough and she’d be mine again. And if she didn’t want me, I would deal with it, but I’d be damned if anyone else would have her.
It was past ten, and Ferrara’s began closing up shop. I had little choice but to leave. When I stepped outside, I pushed past a small crowd of people who had gathered to listen to a man playing the accordion just outside the bakery. He was a heavy-set guy, wearing a red, white, and green Italian Gatsby hat. He pulled out on the instrument to suck air into it, reminding me of a harmonica. The high crescendos grated on my nerves, and I couldn’t get away fast enough.
“Such a fucking cliché,” I muttered.
Glancing at the windows of Camilla’s, I saw the lights were still on. I pulled the bill of my baseball cap low and walked as inconspicuously as possible up and down the sidewalk across the street from the little Italian restaurant. With all the people bustling about, trying to beat the incoming storm, nobody paid me much notice. I felt a few raindrops and heard a distant rumble. Lightning lit up the sky and cast an eerie glow around the shops in Little Italy. The clouded skies meant no moon, and I could stay hidden easier, but rain could complicate things. I wasn’t in the mood to get soaking wet while I waited for my girl and her lover.
Whore. Slut.
That’s all they were, every last one of them—including Cynthia, my beautiful dominatrix. Such a pity. She was one temptation I should have refused—my very own Jezebel, seducing me with her sexual immorality. It was her fault I was in this mess, to begin with. I should have killed her the moment she started asking too many questions and saved myself the stress. I’d thought if I could teach her a lesson, she’d get in line
But Cynthia was no Gianna.
She didn’t learn a thing. Instead, she continued asking questions until I could take it no more. After she escaped the White Room, she came after me like a rabid dog. She may have succeeded in getting me suspended, pending an investigation, but that was as far as she got. A buddy of mine at the precinct told me she was considering contacting the FBI. For some reason, she thought they would be of more help to her.
Fuck the FBI.
I could easily hide in plain sight from the likes of those self-righteous assholes. Hadn’t my mother and I done exactly that after the little incident with the sixteen-year girl in Salt Lake City? I mean, how was I supposed to know she was only sixteen? Not that it mattered. That temptress deserved to die, too. She was just another whore.
After passing by the accordion player for the eighth time, I looked toward Camilla’s again.
“Why the fuck haven’t they left yet?” I said under my breath.
As soon as I uttered the words, Gianna and her new boy toy exited through the front door. I watched her fiddle with the lock for a moment before they walked hand in hand up the street.
Hand-in-fucking-hand.
Whore. Slut.
They stopped at the street corner and he put his arms around her. My fists clenched as I watched him kiss her—kiss my girl—as if she was his to have. The worst part was watching her kiss him back. I wasn’t sure if she’d ever kissed me that way. Her small hands were in his hair, weaving through it like he was a fucking loom for her own personal tapestry. Painful nausea roiled in my stomach, and I felt the urge to vomit.