As I stand there gulping down my drink, it all seems so fucking stupid now. Pushing her away. How do you protect someone if they won’t let you get close to them? Mallory isn’t part of Black Venom anymore, but I trust her. After the whole thing with Oliver, she has proven her loyalty still remains with me.
“Do you recall the shit show where the Black Widow wanted me toseduceAva and essentially incriminate her?” She nods, eyes wide, listening contently. “Eventually, when the case was dismissed against me, she found that Ava was more of an asset to our family. Ava, at the time, had an attorney at her disposal. She’s smart, feisty, and in love with her son.”
“What are you getting at?”
“She wanted Ava to take over Black Venom.”
“She knows nothing about running a crime ring.”
“No shit, Mallory!” I slam my hand down for another double. The thought of Ava in that asshole's lap keeps replaying in my head like a bad movie. I feel the contents of my stomach rise to my throat.
“We have to do something, D. We can’t let her fall into an even darker world,” Mallory says quietly.
I sit there staring at a holstered gun that is mistakenly exposed to the bartender.
“The whole world is a dark place, Mal. She is the light. She made my dark world almost bearable.” I remember her hair wrapped around me that morning when she got stabbed; I had almost thought living this life was worth it. I’d thought that if she was next to me, then I could do anything.Wecould do anything. Her perfect lips that kissed every inch of my body—
That thought is interrupted by Rocco's words swooshing around in my head. They gut-punch me.“She is something else. I just had my cock in her mouth 10 minutes ago.”
Seeing Ava withhimawakened something in me. I can’t find the words to describe this feeling, but it isn’t good. It’s a mix of pure rage, lethal jealousy, but also anxiety. I’m fucking concerned about Ava’s safety. I pushed her away to keep her safe while all I achieved was the exact opposite. She’s getting herself in trouble. She’s getting involved with the most dangerous man I’ve ever known. All because of me.
“I know what we have to do, Mal,” I rasp as I slowly turn my eyes toward her; she furrows her brows as she gives me an intense look.
Mallory doesn’t ask questions. She just nods, acknowledging. I know we still share a bond. She reads me like an open book. No words are needed for us to understand each other. Perhaps, if I hadn’t crossed paths with Avalyne DeLuca, I could’ve forgiven Mal and we still could be together. Possibly… But we’ll never know as my mind, my heart, and soul are consumed by my Firefly. I love her with the kind of love I have never tasted before. The type of love I can get only from Avalyne.
“How do we do this?” Mal’s dubious tone snaps me out of my thoughts. “He’s gone to ground.”
I grit my teeth and my gaze drops. I let out a deep sigh before leaning back to lock my eyes with Mallory’s. “He used you as bait, didn’t he? Let’s beat him at his own game.”
AVALYNE
W
hile Rocco sorts out analytics for his new deal with the greater of two evils I can’t help but allow my mind to wander to Damien’s face. The hurt in his eyes was gut-wrenching. I played it off well, but I was more hurt than angry. Yes, he dumped me for a reason that makes absolutely no sense. But I wanted to hug him. I wanted him to hold me, tell me everything could go back to normal, and that he meant none of what he’d said.
“Bella, come here, would ya?” Rocco taps his knee for me to sit, and I oblige. “There is something I need to ask you. And be honest.”
Oh no! Did he see through my acting? He knows I know Damien. Will I be punished for lying?
“There is a gala event this Saturday evening and I’d like you to be my plus-one.” He pauses as I wait for what else is coming. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Do you think it’s too soon?”
My stomach unclenches. “Too soon to be your date to a gala?” I let out a sigh of relief. “I would love to be your date, Mr. Bianchi.”
“Good. It’s settled. I will send you shoes and a gown before the week is through.” Rocco gives me a single nod, writing something on paper. I watch as that paper makes its way into the hands of an older balding man in a navy-blue pinstripe suit.
“Right away, sir,” the bald man says before leaving.
A couple of hours pass before we arrive at The CrabBoil in South Miami. I’ve eaten at many places, but this place tops them all.
“I hope you like a seafood boil,” Rocco says, smiling like a kid in a candy shop. “When my sister and I came to South Florida with my mamma and papá, they would always bring us here.”
“It sounds like you’re close to your family.” A sting of jealousy runs through me as I drift off to thoughts about how close my dad and I used to be. Apparently, he visited me in the hospital while I was recovering from the OR. But he made no effort to see me while I was conscious. Despite our differences and our falling out,I miss him.
“Bambola, are you alright?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I seem to have gotten distracted.”
“Another man?” He looks at me before taking a sip of his drink.
