“Just find the fucking number,” I retort.
Ashton chuckles and nods. “Send me the pic.”
I do as he asks and Airdrop it to him. Within seconds, his computer dings to alert us he’s received it. He opens the file then drags it into a different software.
“She definitely has nice titties.” He beams with a nod.
I hit him again, this time with the inside of my palm.
“Okay, okay. Who is this chick?”
I don’t answer him right away as my focus is on the screen. “Somebody I want to know,” I say after a beat. “What’s this?” I point toward the screen before crossing my arms over my chest.
“It’s a facial recognition program. If she has a driver’s license, passport, or any government-issued ID, I’ll be able to find her. Since you only have her first name and don’t know if she owns the store, this will be the best way to find her.”
Ashton continues to type away on his mechanical keyboard, digging through loads of data. Watching it all makes my eyes cross. It’s complicated, tedious, and I’m glad he’s the one with this ability and not me.
“How the fuck did you get into this?” I mutter, more to myself than him.
He smirks like he always does whenever one of us shows how confused we are by his skill. I can tell it makes him feel satisfied, to know this is the one thing he has over us. It’s an advantage, leverage he can use to impress our dad, despite how hard we’ve all worked to keep him away from our lifestyle.
“It’s simple, really.” He tilts his head a little then double taps on the enter button. “All right. Arloe Harway.” Ashton plops back into his seat. “She’s twenty-six, from up north, Virginia to be exact. Looks like she moved to town about six months ago, when she opened up that bookstore. No kids that I can see. She has a degree in business andliterature.” He says that last word with emphasis, and I smirk. “I mean, aside from having a nice rack, she reads like your everyday nerd.”
“Shut up.” I grimace and lean over him, pointing to a line on the screen. “What’s this say?”
He sits up again and scrolls down the page. “And the plot thickens,” he says enthusiastically.
“What?”
“Looks like our little bibliophile has a dirty past. She was arrested. Quite a few times actually: indecent exposure, disturbing the peace, ooo.” He leans forward. “Nice.” He cheers but continues when I clear my throat. “She’s got a temper. Apparently, her college roommate pressed charges for assault during her freshman year. Although her dad managed to get it thrown out.”
“What’s his deal?”
“Ah, let’s see.” Ashton clicks on another button and uses his mouse to scroll the page. “Makes sense. She’s loaded. Well, her dad is, based on these bank records.” He directs my gaze to the screen on the far right. “She’s on the verge of bankruptcy. But her dear ol’ dad is a city official for Arlington County, and before that he spent his life growing his father’s hospitality chain. And we’re talking Conrad Hilton type of money.”
I let the information he’s gathered sink into my thoughts and I store them to memory, not sure what I plan to do with those details. “That number?”
Ashton scribbles it down on a piece of paper, tears it, and hands it to me. I ball it into my fist while tapping him on his shoulder with my knuckles before stepping away. It’s a silent thank you, another form of endearment we’re not used to expressing in this family.
“Should I forward this to Dad?” he throws over his shoulder.
I stop midway to the door and point to him. “No, make sure no one sees that.”
Ashton frowns, and I know it’s because Arloe’s father is exactly the kind of mark we go after. Wealthy men who come from old money with connections we can use to our benefit. We mostly deal with local benefactors, as it’s easier to keep tabs on them. But if my father knew that the girl I let escape was the daughter of a politician and the heir to a multi-million-dollar franchise, he’d surely make her his next target. And the fucked-up part about all of this is, I’ll do whatever he requires to bring her family down.
“Okay, you got it,” Ashton finally accepts, and I watch him clear the screen. “This is between me and you.”
I use my eyes to let him know I appreciate him understanding and exit his room. It doesn’t take me long to reach the bottom of the stairs. When I do, I call out Alfredo’s name, and he appears a second later.
“My car. I’m leaving.” I pull my phone from my pocket to check the time, throwing back my shoulders and lifting my chin in a show of superiority.
It’s a little after six in the evening, and I’m already itching to get back to Arloe. I stare at the torn page with her number on it, my mind racing a mile a minute. In the beginning, I’ll admit, I was only thinking with my dick. Having her in my store, seeing how demure she’d become, a stark contrast from the feisty little thing who’d hounded me outside her shop, sparked my interest. It was more about the power I felt as I stood behind her, bearing witness to her sharp, heavy breaths and how afraid she was. But it quickly shifted when I realized that though I scared her, she didn’t really fight that hard to get away. Not to mention, she kept her mouth closed just as she promised she would. And now, knowing what Baby just unveiled about her, has me more intrigued than I already am.
I think back to today and how beautiful she was in her element. I stood in the doorway for several minutes, witnessing the way she lit up. It was pretty obvious in that moment that books are her life. I never would have pegged her for a slutty romance reader. She looks like a girl who loves the classics, Shakespeare and shit like that. But as she listened to that man give a poor depiction of what falling in love with a Mafia boss looked like, I watched her.
Every rise and fall of her chest, the way her breathing changed when he got to the sexy scenes, the subtle act of crossing her legs to apply friction to her lower half. She was turned on from fake words, and my cock strained against my slacks knowing it had that effect on her. It took a lot for me not to laugh aloud at the blatant misrepresentation of what the mob life is like. But, I did, however, chuckle internally at the fact people really romanticize the shit.
Don’t get me wrong, it comes with its perks. The money, the cars—the women. But it’s nothing like how,what’s his face, described. There is no glamour, only darkness and destruction. Arloe’s in for a rude awakening, and though something tells me to leave her be, I can’t wait to corrupt her.
