Another image of the girl flashed into my mind. Was the reason my instinct or something less sinister?
Maybe I should stop fixating on her. She was just a single woman, but how many had been used as ringers? I returned to my desk, realizing it was getting late.
I’d accomplished very little in the way of paperwork. Given that the club was closed tonight, at least I’d have time to check over every employee thoroughly and make a list of those I wanted to have a long chat with.
With another few seconds of resting my eyes, I was inundated with visions of the stunning woman. Perhaps the reason I’d become so enthralled with her was because of her attitude. Typically, someone didn’t respond the way she had when a stranger offered assistance.
That is unless she was being harassed or worse.
I sat forward, dropping my head into my hands. Goddamn it. Her defiance and the subtle yet effective way she’d pushed me aside had awakened a hunger that right now I had no time to explore. Not with the Italians bearing down on us.
However, the urge was controlling and sadistic, a need that I typically kept buried under a layer of respect. Women were enjoyable creatures. I’d never denied myself the pleasure, but I also hadn’t walked away from a night of passion, a dinner, or a single meeting with the same raw desire I was experiencing now.
Fuck it.
With Donatello dropping by my house later, maybe the best thing to do was to head home.
Maybe after a good night’s sleep, I’d be able to think more clearly. I’d also need to figure out the best way of sharing what I’d discovered with Alexander. I could only hope my brother was in a decent mood.
He didn’t appreciate mistakes from anyone, especially his family. He was just like our father. Tenacious. Brutal. Funny. Powerful.
Yeah, Pops was one of a kind.
Okay, what the fuck was wrong with me that I was stuck in the past all of a sudden?
Even before I stood, for the first time in years, I allowed myself a moment to grieve a loss from my youth. A loss so tragic that I’d wallowed in the pain for a long time. Too long. Yet the agony had used teeth and claws, dragging me into the pits of hell I didn’t wish on anyone.
Hell, no. I wasn’t doing this.
It was my father who’d taken me aside, providing his perfected form of tough love. He’d explained in no uncertain terms that grief was in and of itself a weakness, enemies enjoying a feeding frenzy the moment they captured the scent.
That’s why only the women of our family had shed a single tear in public after our father’s murder. Privately was something else.
Why was desiring another woman providing me with thoughts and heavy angst regarding the past?
Maybe a visit to my spry grandmother would be worth her chiding me for not settling down like my brothers had managed to do.
I turned off the computer and pushed back my chair, grabbing my jacket and heading for the door. Lilian Prince was a formidable lady who read everything from tea leaves to tarot cards, and was able to put hexes on people. A link to our Cajun heritage. I tossed the jacket over my shoulder, eager for a frosty beverage.
I’d made it all the way to the door leading outside when Emmeline caught me.
“Oh, darling brother of mine. Can I ask for a favor?” She batted her eyelashes as she always did when about to ask for the worst favor. Usually something grimy.
“You already asked for your weekly favor.”
“How was the ballet?” She laughed.
“Did you try and set me up?”
She seemed thoroughly confused. “What are you talking about?”
I knew my sister better than anyone. She wasn’t lying. “Nothing. Irina Novikov was very… friendly.”
“Ah. She was very eager to see you. Maybe you need an older woman in your life.”
“Very funny. What’s the favor? If you ask me to change your oil or dig holes for an additional piece of fencing, you can call someone else.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “You’re the only handyman in the family. Now, unless you’d like me to hire a big, burly, very handsome personal construction worker to be at my steady beck and call…”
