“Your assistant,” he says and snorts, like calling her that is the funniest thing in the world. “She was hard up for it.”
I lift an eyebrow slowly and finally look at him.
“And how would you know that?”
Vito scoffs.
“Because I know what a horny woman looks like,” he says. “She was sitting there trying not to squirm, trying to act all professional, but her face—”
“Stop,” I say, flat.
Vito’s grin widens.
“What? I’m not insulting her,” he says. “I’m telling you. She’s got that look. Like her body’s arguing with her brain, and her body’s winning.”
He isn’t wrong.
That’s the problem.
I left her that way on purpose.
“You sat in the same room as her for five minutes,” I say, making sure to keep my voice even. “You don’t know anything about her.”
Vito shrugs like that’s irrelevant.
“I know eyes,” he says. “I know posture. I know when a woman’s trying to pretend she isn’t thinking about getting laid, but all she’s doing is thinking about getting laid. Not to mention, she’s got the world’s worst poker face.”
I can’t disagree with him on that one, so I just stare.
He laughs.
“Better get that situation sorted,” he adds, “or she’ll go looking for someone whocando her right.”
It’s meant as a joke.
My jaw tightens.
Vito catches it, of course he does, and his grin shifts into something sharper, like he likes poking the bear.
“What?” he says. “You gonna tell me you don’t care?”
I don’t answer right away.
Because I do care.
More than I should.
More than I planned to.
And I don’t like admitting that out loud, even to my brother.
I look back at the loading bay.
“Won’t be hard to find someone either,” he continues, because he really doesn’t know when toshut the fuck up.
“I mean, the body on her…” He whistles. “I thought you were nuts spending 70K on some virgin broad. I still think you’renuts, but I could see paying that much to be the first to smash her—”
“Vito, shut the fuck up,” I snap.
