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“I can’t,” she said. “I don’t trust people.”
“But you trust him?”
“I do,” she said, “and nothing you say will change that.”
“Fine, but that doesn’t mean you can’t trust me, too.”
She stared at him. Could she trust him? “I should go.”
She walked away, pausing briefly when he called out to her. “Haven? You look beautiful. Carmine may be an asshole, but he’s a lucky asshole.”
She smiled. “Thank you, but I think I’m the lucky one.”
* * *
After paying for the soda, Haven drove back to the DeMarcos’ house to find a new shiny sports car parked out front. As she opened the front door, she was about to call out for Carmine when there was a bang in the kitchen. “What fucking took you so long?”
She sighed, not bothering with an answer. If he was in a bad mood, nothing would change it.
She paused in the doorway to the kitchen, stunned at the sight of him. He had on a black suit with a blue tie and a pair of black Nikes. Carmine turned to her, his eyes instantly raking down her body as she set the soda on the counter and handed one of the cans of Coke to him. He took it carefully, his eyes never leaving her.
She turned to leave the room, her nerves getting the best of her, but Carmine grabbed her arm to stop her. “You’re breathtaking.”
His eyes flickered to her mouth, and he kissed her sweetly. She parted her lips, welcoming him to deepen it, but instead he pulled away. It had become a common occurrence the past few weeks, a consequence of his recent temperament.
He turned his back to her to fill a glass with ice as she headed for the family room, sitting on the couch and folding her hands in her lap to wait. Carmine strolled in after a minute and set his glass down on the table, a plastic container in his other hand. He pulled a blue and gold flower out of it and slipped it on her wrist. “It’s a corsage.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said, gazing at it.
The front door to the house opened, and Dr. DeMarco walked in. “That’s a nice car outside,” he said right away, forgoing any type of greeting.
Carmine sighed. “Don’t worry—I rented it. It’ll go back tomorrow.”
Dominic and Tess showed up a few minutes later, followed by a disgruntled Dia. They huddled outside to take some pictures. After a few minutes of cameras flashing, Carmine grabbed Haven’s hand and pulled her away. He hesitated at his car, scanning it for damage, before heading toward the rental. “I’ve always wanted a Vanquish. I feel like James Bond driving this motherfucker.”
“James Bond?”
“Yeah, you know—007, the secret agent?” She shook her head, and he sighed. “It’s a movie.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I’ve never seen it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, motioning for her to get in. She wanted to believe him, but his frustrated expression told a different story.
The drive to the restaurant was quiet as Haven’s nerves ran amuck. After about thirty minutes, she couldn’t take the silence anymore and attempted conversation. “This is a pretty car. You couldn’t get one of these instead of yours?”
He laughed dryly. “This costs six times more than my Mazda. There’s no way my father would fork over a quarter-million dollars for a car. The only thing he’d spend that much on is a house.” He paused. “Or you, maybe. Don’t know how much he paid for you.”
His words stung. She blinked a few times, willing herself not to let her hurt show as she turned to stare out the window.
“And I guess it’s pretty, if you can call a car pretty.”
Haven didn’t speak the rest of the drive.
They arrived at the restaurant, and Carmine led her inside to join the others. He occasionally said something that rubbed her the wrong way while they ate, but someone would diffuse the situation before it spiraled. Haven wasn’t fond of this side of Carmine. It was a part of him she wasn’t well acquainted with . . . a part of him she didn’t want to know.
The waitress came by to make sure they had everything they needed, her eyes lingering on Carmine longer than necessary. He ignored her like he usually did, but Tess didn’t let it slide. “She could see your girlfriend sitting right beside you. Doesn’t she have any self-respect?”
Carmine shrugged. “Bitches can’t help it.”
