Page 90 of Effortless

She shouldn’t have regret.

Camilla looked for a fun time, not a long time because that was supposed to be easier. Wasn’t this supposed to be easier?

The Band-Aid was gone.

The pain should be over.

Or maybe it was just her.

Maybe she was broken.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

TOM DRAGGED—more like forced—his way through another round of phone calls. To some made men, sitting behind a desk or being the Capo out on the street making the rounds and calling the shots was like being at the top of the world.

Not to Tom.

If anything, work was another fucking chore to add to his days now. Something else he had to do, and not something he particularly wanted to do. He had been somewhat getting better with the crew and Capo position, and then New York happened three weeks ago.

Or rather, Camilla happened.

Tom’s gaze darted to the cell phone on the desk. His personal one, not the burner he was currently talking on for business.

Not once had his phone rang.

Not once had Camilla called.

Not in three long weeks.

Not one fucking word.

Tom’s irritation spilled over into the phone call to a fellow Capo. “You know what, fuck it, go to Theo, then.”

“That’s what you want, Tommaso? Me to take this to the front boss?”

“If that’s what you think is going to get this settled, then do that.”

“Or is it because you know you’re so shoved up Theo’s ass, he’ll just bend to whatever the fuck you want?”

“Theo’s not going to bend to whatever I want, Marty,” Tom replied, barely keeping his cool. “If anything, he’ll come back on me harder because he thinks I should know better. But go ahead and make my fucking day. It’ll be one more thing for me to have to deal with right now. At this point, I don’t give a fuck. I am done talking about it.”

Tom hung up the phone, and tossed it to the desk without care. He was pretty sure it cracked the screen when it landed on the face, but who gave a shit? Not him.

The damn thing was eighty bucks.

It could and would be replaced.

Tom was coming to learn not everything could be fixed or replaced so easily in his life. Actually, he had known that for a while. It was Camilla that had yet to get up to speed with shit like love and whatever else.

Fuck.

Tom scrubbed a hand down over his face and jaw, determined not to get in another one of those moods again. The last one had lingered for a couple of days, and spilled over onto anyone who came too close to him.

He was trying to keep this shit controlled.

He tried to keep people out of his business.

“You look like you’re ready to kick somebody’s ass.”