Even under all that poorly manicured facial hair, I can see his jaw clench in response to my low blow.
Expecting him to follow, I half turn my back to him to head back inside, but he just stands there, with a dumbfounded look on his face.
Frustration begins to seep into my veins. I don’t have time for this. I need to get Sienna out of the brownstone and figure out what the fuck made that noise upstairs.
“Today, Eric,” I remind him, as I motion for him to follow me with the hand holding my pistol.
He stares at the shiny metal, the streetlamps outside the brownstone reflecting on the barrel. A subtle, friendly reminder that he should do what he is fucking told.
“You got it, Boss,” he says, snapping out of his trance. Finally, he follows me back inside. I walk slightly ahead of him, but not so far ahead that I can’t keep him within my line of vision. He takes his cell phone out of one pocket and begins rapid texting, his thumbs moving a mile a minute, but his eyes aren’t looking at the screen. Instead, they are fixed on me.
We make it to the study; the doors are still shut as I instructed Sienna to keep them.
“She’s inside the study. When I head up the stairs, I want you to take her home, immediately,” I order.
An unwelcome grin forms on his face, feeling out of context from how our interactions usually go. Not to mention, I’m instructing him to take Sienna home, so what he could possibly find amusing in this scenario is equally as baffling to me as it is maddening.
“Now, Eric,” I demand, not hiding my vexation.
“You got it, Boss,” he says condescendingly.
He glances down at the pistol in my hand as he inches toward the pocket door to let himself into the study. Just as I think he is finally obeying my orders, he stops, and again, I am met with a condescending look.
“You know, Mr. Moretti, old houses like this, no matter how nice you fix them up, they always seem to have issues.” He now steps away from the door and steps to me. “You can fix the exterior of something all you want, but if the interior is decaying, you got yourself a problem.”
I really am growing tired of this motherfucker.
“I don’t have time for riddles, Eric. If there is something you need to say, then fucking say it.”
I begin to walk down the hallway to finally head upstairs to see what the fuck that strange noise was. I am not two steps up when I hear Eric once more. “That noise was probably a leaky pipe, is all,” he says as he finally disappears into the study to retrieve Sienna before I can reply.
As I walk up the stairs, trying to keep my weight on the center of each step, which are adorned with a black and white baroque pattern runner to soften the usual creaking sounds, I realize something.
I never told Eric what I was checking upstairs. So, how would he know I am inspecting a sound? Better yet, how could he have heard it if he was outside with an earbud in each ear?
Chapter32
Sienna
I hear the faint murmurs of Carmine and Eric exchanging words in the hallway. I can’t make out exactly what they are saying, but knowing the two of them, I’m sure it’s some petty cock measuring contest.
The fire that once roared in the fireplace is slowly dwindling. So, as I wait for Carmine and Eric to stop verbally sparring, I scan to see if Carmine has a poker of some sort to help move around the logs to resurrect the blaze. The stupid box stands out at me once more. I debate grabbing it to sneak a peek, but dismiss the thought, because as much as I enjoyed the “punishment” Carmine had for me, something tells me I won’t get off easy a second time.
Grabbing the wrought iron poker, I bend slightly to start moving the logs around. The warmth of the fire radiating on my face is a welcome contrast to the slight chill I feel from the lack of pants or panties beneath my current ensemble.
A cool breeze nips at my ass as I hear the door slide open.Great, Eric.
He clears his throat, signaling that he is about to enter the room. I play with the logs and embers once more before setting the iron piece down, turning to face Eric for my walk of shame.
“Nice outfit, Sienna,” he says sarcastically. “Black and white stripes suit you.” He is trying to make me feel embarrassed, and if he were, perhaps, kinder to me, like the friend I used to have before sex made things complicated, maybe I’d be more embarrassed. But now? I’m just over it.
“Ready to go?” I ask, petting Nada goodbye before reaching for my purse.
Eric looks over his shoulder to the hallway before scanning the study. He looks nervous. A shift from his sarcastic demeanor he presented not just a few moments before.
He reaches for the car keys, dangling them. “Yea, just take the keys and head to the car. It’s parked out front. I’ll be right there.”
Confused as to why he would need to hang around in Carmine’s brownstone any longer than necessary, I decide to push his buttons a bit. See if I can figure out why he has already looked over his shoulder twice in less than two minutes, rocking slightly on the heels of his dirty, checkered grey Vans.
