Golden sucked his lips between his teeth and nodded slowly. I stretched out my hand and he reached for me, entwining our fingers. I pulled him close to me and walked him to the table, pulling out his chair and sitting him down.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been as attracted to you as I am now,” I whispered in his ear, my teeth nipping at his earlobe. “The way you fight and bend all at the same time. You went from pointing a gun at my father’s face to almost coming in the hallway.”
“I’m almost coming here,” he grunted, adjusting his position on the surely hard and uncomfortable wooden chair.
“Better not,” I warned.
“I cannot put a bullet in Molinaro with this toy up my ass,"
“My mama would not be happy if you plugged that kid in her house.”
“Driveway,” he conceded.
“No murdering.”
“That doesn’t sound very romantic at all.” Golden leaned back against the seat, easing against the parts of me he could reach.
“It’s a long game,” I whispered, straightening up when my mom walked in with a serving platter the size of the table.
“This smells delicious, Mama,” I said, collaring my hand around the back of Golden’s neck. “Doesn’t it, Foster?”
“Divine, Mrs. Rosetti,” Golden agreed, however weak.
I flexed my fingers around Golden’s neck and looked down, relishing the way he fit with me. Not only mentally or physically, but in my heart. I’d spent what felt like a lifetime waiting for him, looking for him, knowing where he was and who he was with, and then I found him where I wanted him most.
In my bed.
My life.
I knew better than to think this could last forever, but I wasn’t ready to lose it yet. And I definitely wasn’t going to lose it because some smart-mouthed little upstart was getting too big for his britches. Golden was right, though. Molinaro was a twit. There was no way he was the driving force behind whatever was happening. We needed to figure out who was pulling his strings, and we needed to do it fast.
My mom flitted her fingers in the air, her careful eyes taking stock of everything she had laid out on the table. She pinched her manicured nails together.
“I’ll go get your father,” she said to no one in particular, gliding out of the room.
“You and I will have time to talk before Molinaro gets here,” I assured him, taking the seat beside him and settling my hand on his thigh. Golden was tense, so I scooted closer and kneaded the muscle on his leg with my fingers. The ring sparkled in the light before my hand slipped beneath the tablecloth.
I’d put a lot of things into play that I’d never intended. All of it a means to an end, a decision required to keep the people who mattered the most to me safe. The weight of the responsibility settled on my shoulders, feeling more like a burden than the promise of a free future.
“I know,” Golden confirmed.
My fingers skated closer toward him, dragging against the hard edge of his cock, smashed into his briefs, but desperately trying to break out.
My mom reappeared, untying her apron and taking the seat she’d sat in for my entire life. My father trailed behind her, a small butterfly bandage on his cheek and his eyes downcast. No wonder Molinaro had pegged him to take advantage of. Molinaro might be weak, but my father was apparently a pushover. How had he instilled so much fear in me and my mother while presenting himself as such a malleable coward to the rest of the world, I didn’t know.
I’d have to ask him that.
But later.
“Thank you for making dinner, Mama,” I said, raising a glass to toast her. “Wasn’t this nice of her, Padre? Cooking all this food and setting this nice table?”
“Yes.” My dad cleared his throat and raised his glass to my mother.
“To the people who do the most with the least reward.” I leaned close and clinked my glass against my mother’s before raising it to my lips to take a taste. “May they finally get the recognition they deserve.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Foster
