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Ford releases me, muttering under his breath, and hits the fob. I bite on my bottom lip to contain my cackling. He flings open the door and gestures in overemphasis as if to prove the inside is just as pretty. It’s the look of pure exasperation on his face that has me losing it again.
“You’re a real bitch, Laundry,” he grits out, though there’s no real venom in his tone. “No one’s ever laughed at my car before.”
“You said I was different and you were right. I bet you’re rethinking making me your friend.” I arch a brow at him now that the giggling has faded. “See you around, Chevy.”
His maple syrup eyes slowly peruse down my body, lazily drinking up every detail of me. I try not to squirm but when someone like Ford Mann is practically devouring you, it’s hard not to.
“Let me take you home,” he urges, his voice dropping several octaves and managing to reverberate through me. “I’ll go slow.”
The fire in his eyes says he’s talking about more than just a ride in his car. He’s talking about the ride of my life. All I’d have to do is give in.
Gravel crunches behind me and a sleek, black Mercedes SUV pulls up. I recognize Trey, one of Dad’s drivers, sitting behind the wheel. Time to go.
“My ride’s here.” I motion toward the Mercedes. “Maybe some other time.”
Like never.
Unfortunately.
Ford peels his stare from me to give Trey a once-over. When his eyes find their way back to mine, they’re harder than before and glint with something almost calculating. The warmth between us is snuffed out and a chill works its way down my spine.
“Goodbye, Ford.”
“See you soon.” He winks at me but the action is almost taunting. “That’s a promise.”
Chapter Six
Sully
I could leave New York.
Take my mustard-yellow Ford Bronco—a car I purchased with my own damn money I’ve earned here and there—and leave this stupid fucking city.
Leave Mom and my brothers.
The motherfucking Morellis.
Constantines and their superiority bullshit.
I’d pack up and head out west. Drive the scenic route the whole damn way, stopping to smell the roses at every chance. I always wanted to go to Cali. Maybe I could learn to surf. I’d be good at that shit, I bet. I’m not a suit like Sparrow, so I could be content working above a souvenir shop, spending all my hard-earned cash on surfer gear or whatever it is California dudes spend their money on. It’d still be a thousand times cooler than what my life consists of now. I’d be a helluva lot happier, that’s for sure.
There’s no California dreamin’ for this big city boy, though.
Truth is, my dream of living my own life is just that. A dream. I know, deep down, I’ll never leave my brothers. We’re not just regular brothers. We’re triplets. One third of something whole. Leaving would mean severing two of my limbs. I just can’t do it.
So, I’ll live in constant mental turmoil.
Or at least until I can convince Scout and Sparrow there’s more to our lives than being Bryant’s bitch trio.
Which is why I’m taking my badass Bronco toward the Hudson Yards. My yellow beast stands out like a sore thumb next to all the Maseratis, Bentleys, Bugattis, and other shiny sports cars Sparrow would nut over.
My surfer dreams will have to wait.
It doesn’t take me long to reach the stunning eighty-eight floor building where I’m to take over my “shift” with the Crofts. This place is much nicer than anything I’m used to, and that’s saying a lot considering my upbringing. I’m a little eager to check out the inside to see if it’s even half as nice as the outside.
For fuck’s sake.
Eager?
I want to punch my own self in the nuts for being even remotely eager about a fancy-ass building. Get a grip, man.
God, it’s so lame that I’m stuck with this job. Naturally, Sparrow and Scout got the good assignments while I’m left with the stupid one. My job is to teach speechreading to the youngest Croft girl. Apparently, upon some quick internet research, it’s basically teaching a deaf person to lip read. Seems easy enough and she’s a kid, so I think I can pull it off, but it still sounds boring as fuck. I bet neither Sparrow nor Scout spent all night attempting to learn the basics of another language like I had to. I can sign the alphabet, but that’s where my skills end. This ruse might end before it begins if I can’t convince these people I’m an expert.
I’m honestly unsure what to even expect when I get in there. Of course my brother was worthless on communication. According to our chat when Sparrow got back home from class, he had an interesting and entertaining day with Landry.
That was all the information he gave up.
