“Leave it,” I told Jeremie, standing up from my seat at the coffee shop and shoving my wallet into my pocket. The call went to voicemail. “Where’s Tierney?”
“Via Toledo.” Nico flicked his cigarette to the sidewalk.
I grabbed my phone and pocketed it. “Text her that I’ll be there in fifteen minutes and to wait for me on her knees in a changing room.”
I didn’t communicate with her directly when we weren’t together. That would require unblocking her number, and I wasn’t going that route, no matter how many times my dick was inside her.
“Now your brother’s calling me.” Jeremie arched an eyebrow at his phone as we exited the coffee shop and headed toward my Porsche.
Speaking of people I blocked.But that was a recent development.
I’d blocked my entire family for the weekend. “Which one?”
“Luca.”
“Enzo’s callingme,” Fabio said. “Shit’s hitting the fan. You gotta sort it out.”
And I was going to. I’d face it all once I got home.
But for now, I was going to drown in her.
____________
She wasn’t waiting on her knees or in a changing room when I walked into the high-street boutique twenty minutes later. I was surprised she was even on the same continent, with the level of her defiance. She was wearing some sort of black corset minidress that made me want to kill everyone in the store for seeing her in it and the designer just for funsies.
“Oh, good. My errand boy’s here.” She shoved two sequined dresses into my hands with a scarlet smirk. Everyone at the storestared in shock, well aware I was Don Vello’s son and one nasty son of a bitch. “Dark green or purple?”
She’d look good in a fucking trash bag, but I’d die before admitting it out loud.
“Sweetheart, the only thing I want to see you in is a coffin.”
“Hmm.” She trailed a pointy, black fingernail along my chest. “The fact you admitted to being obsessed with me kinda takes the sting out of the joke.”
The only joke in the room was me, who kept talking a big game and still cleaning up her mess on the reg.
“Take ’em both,” I said dryly, trying to push the realization I’d probably never get to see her in them to the back of my conscience. Far, far back. Shewasmoving away and dropping off the face of the earth after this. I’d personally make sure of it. For her safety—and my own.
“If you insist.” She tossed a third dress into my hands, reaching for a fourth on a rack laden with gauche frocks.
It was time I shoved something into that smart mouth to shut it up, and one of my organs was more than happy to volunteer as tribute. I tossed the gowns into a passing saleswoman’s arms and muttered to her in Italian to have the eyesores waiting at the cashier, crowding Tierney toward the changing rooms wordlessly.
I wasn’t mad at her. She was just doing what she did best—looking like sex on legs and acting like a teenager to piss people off. I was mad at myself for shitting all over the Camorra’s entire operation for a taste of forbidden pussy.
Now, that’s not to say I wouldn’t do it all over again given the choice, but a man could acknowledge the sin he was committing and still fucking do it.
“Has it been three hours yet?” Tierney purred, refusing to cower. My big frame inched her slowly into a dressing room.
“And two minutes and thirty-seven seconds,” I confirmed, flashing her my phone screen, where a countdown started every time I zipped myself up and stepped away from her.
She let loose a throaty laugh. “You’re pathetic.”
“I know.” Hey, at least I had self-awareness going for me.
“And you don’t care?” She elevated an eyebrow, taking another step backward.
“Not enough to stop this, no.” I ate the space between us. Her back collided with the changing room’s door. “I told you to wait for me on your knees.”
“Did you, now?” She grabbed the collar of my shirt, yanking me closer with a provocative grin. “I try my best to block out the noise of men speaking to me.”
