“I get it,” Michael replied. “I know you want a family. Maybe it would help if you spent more time getting to know yourself and what you want in a partner. Find out what works for you and what doesn’t. I get the feeling you’re rushing into relationships because you’re getting older and feel like you should be settled down already. But that’s only going to get you more people like Luke.”
I stood and stared out my window at the Manhattan skyline. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. It seems hard to believe that at my age, I don’t know myself. I really should. But maybe I work too much. I have to say that I really do like Greg, but he seemed fine with one-and-done.”
“Then you have to respect that. If he wanted more, he would have let you know.” I heard the click of a keyboard on his end ofthe call and then movement. “I’m going to head out now. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
I thought about it before I answered. “I’m sure. I wouldn’t be very good company. I’m going to take your advice and find something to do here.” I headed toward my ensuite, then stopped. “Wait. You never gave me the update on Scott Bradley.”
“Oh, right. I hired Kim, the PI we worked with before in Florida. She’s going to track him down using the information I gave her. He’s using an alias, Douglas Wright. He’s got a legit-looking passport and everything.”
“Fucking rich people,” I muttered. “But you’re sure it’s him?”
“Positive.
“All right then,” I said. “Keep me in the loop. Tell Liam I said happy birthday.”
“I will,” he replied.
I continued into my ensuite to take a shower. I was at loose ends. I couldn’t remember the last time I didn’t have something planned for my day.
While I was showering, I couldn’t help but remember the feel of Greg’s body beneath me and how it felt to slide into his tight heat. My cock was on board with that memory, filling and lengthening until I was rock hard. I poured some conditioner into my palm and took myself in hand, imagining Greg against my shower wall while I pounded into him. My orgasm hit me so fast that it took my breath away.
“Well fuck,” I muttered as I watched my cum wash down the drain. That was not the way to treat my encounter with Greg as something casual.
By the time I was done in the shower, it was after two in the afternoon. Too late to go to a Sunday matinee performance. Maybe I could go tonight. I decided to try out the new bistro that had recently opened three blocks north of my building. The menu looked good, and I was up for trying something different.
I had just gotten into the elevator when my phone vibrated with a call. Thinking it was Michael, I swiped to answer it without looking. “Hey, Michael. What’s up?”
There was a long silence before I heard, “Anthony?”
A frisson of shock ran through me. That wasn’t Michael. I looked at my phone to be sure. Yep. It was my cousin, Salvatore Vitale. The mob boss. And he only called me Anthony when he wanted something from me. “Salvatore, my apologies. I was just on the phone with Michael, and I thought he was calling me back.” The elevator opened on the ground floor, and I hurried through the lobby and out onto the street.
“No worries, Anthony.” There was another pause. “Listen, I need you to do me a favor.”
Sometimes I hated it when I was right. “Okay,” I replied. “What do you need?”
I heard movement on his end, almost like he was pacing. “Do you know Café Roma?”
“Yeah. It’s on 64th near Lincoln Center.”
“That’s the one. I need you to go there and check on one of the baristas.”
I paused as I tried to process what he was asking me. “One of the baristas? I’m not sure I understand.”
He blew out a frustrated breath. “One of the baristas who works there. He’s…quiet. Shy. And doesn’t speak up when he should.”
Now I was even more confused. Since I didn’t want to antagonize my cousin, I asked, “What would you like me to do when I get to the café? How will I know it’s him?”
There was a note of fondness in his voice when he replied, “He’s kinda short. A little too skinny. He doesn’t eat enough. Short, wavy red hair and freckles like angel kisses across his nose.”
What. The. Fuck? My mobster cousin just used the term angel kisses to describe someone. “What’s his name?”
“Brendan.”
Well, that went along with the red hair. “So what am I looking for when I get to the café?”
“There’s a guy he works with who’s been hassling him. He’s slick about it, so he flies under the radar because most people miss it.” I could almost see Salvatore clenching his jaw. I was pretty sure I heard him grind his teeth. His voice was a dangerous growl. “I don’t miss anything.”
This conversation was getting more confusing by the minute. “Forgive me for asking, but why aren’t you handling this? You could put the fear of God into that punk with just a look.”
