“She’s was out in the back parking lot. I overheard her on the phone. It sounded bad. Sounded like family.”
“What the fuck? Why didn’t she come in? Why didn’t you bring her in here to me? Why the fuck didn’t Hamilton let meknow they were on their way?” Something feels wrong, and I need to get out of here.
I scribble my signature on the handwritten paper in front of me, no longer caring if I could have negotiated something better. It’s not exactly a contract, but it’s as close as they come in my line of work. The courts may not think much of it, but the crime families will honor it to the end of their bloodlines.
“I have to go. Sal, that concludes our business.”
I was pissed already when Sal and I were halfway through with our chat and the two girls showed up and he let them sit down. Good thing we were done with our discussion, a signature and a handshake all that was left to do, but still. It was fucking disrespectful, and I know he was trying to throw his new business in my face.
I turn to Malcolm, and he steps back when he sees the look in my eyes.
“Hey, I tried, you know? She started screaming for me to stay away from her. What was I supposed to do?”
A waiter walks up behind him holding a pair of shoes and a heel that’s broken off one of them. They’re the same heels I bought for Esme that she had on this morning.
“Mr. Vitaglia? Sir, sorry, I think your lady friend dropped these. She seemed in quite a state—”
“What thefuck?” I think I’m losing it. “Why the hell didn’t you bring this to me before?”
“I—I—didn’t know what to do, sir. You were busy, and she told me not to tell you she was here—”
“Fuck.”
Something’s very wrong. I can feel it. Malcolm isn’t exactly a saint, but nor is he a monster, and he doesn’t look like one. For Esme to be scared of him means she’s scared of me, and the fact that she’s at this restaurant but told the waiter not to let me know says I’ve done something wrong.
I grab my copy of the agreement off the table, foregoing the handshake and giving Salvatore a death glare. I scrunch the paper in my hand as I rush out through the kitchens toward the parking lot with Malcolm on my heels.
Esme works for the DA. I’m not exactly the poster child for a law-abiding citizen. Maybe when she got to work today, she did some digging. Found out things…
Fuck.I’m not losing her. I’ll turn my life upside down if need be, but she’s not getting away from me, especially after last night. My baby could be inside her right now. She’s bound to me, and I will figure out how to fix this.
Outside, there’s no sign of Esme. “Fuck!” I grunt out, then turn to Malcolm. “Was she here?Right here?”
“Yeah, she was trying to hail a cab.” He points toward the street. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
I step out into the road and see a cab disappearing around the corner. It’s busy, and there are hundreds of cabs around here, but something tells me it’s her. As crazy as it sounds, it’s like I can feel her heartbeat from here—like we’re connected on some other level.
“Go over to her place, wait for me there. If Esme turns up, don’t fucking let her leave.”
I give Malcolm the address, and he doesn’t say a word before jumping back into his car. It's closer than mine, so he’s the first out of the parking lot. I’m only a split second behind as I tear out of there in my Suburban, ignoring the blare of horns as I join the traffic and speed down the road, cutting across the sidewalk as I take the corner.
The traffic isn’t light, but I can see the cab a few hundred yards down the road. I weave around some cars traveling way too slow and then cut off another, hearing the screaming horn as I put my foot down. As I pull up behind her cab, I flash my lights and lean on the horn, then push forward, getting up close. I cansee someone in the back of the cab, and when they turn around to see who’s behind, it’s like a weight is lifted.
It’s her. It’s Esme.
She tries to wave me off, but I shake my head and mouth that I’m not going anywhere. Esme looks furious, but she’s not getting rid of me that easily. I call her, but after one ring it goes straight to voicemail—either she has it turned off, or more likely she rejected my call.
A second later, she holds up a sign to the back window. “Leave me ALONE. I know!” It’s written in her trademark red lipstick on the drawing pad she picked out yesterday. Even now, the thought of that red lipstick smeared down the shaft of my cock as she sucks me off flashes through my mind.
I’m a fucking monster.
I shake my head, then hold my hand up to my ear in the shape of a phone. A second later, I try calling her again, and this time she answers, but there’s fury in her voice.
“Leave. Me. Alone.” Her voice slices through the silence inside the car on the speaker.
“No fucking way, Bambina. I can’t. I’d rather die than live another day without you.”
She chokes out a laugh. “Yeah, or maybe you’d ratherIdie instead, huh?”
