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Heat instantly rushes to my groin, and images of her bouncing up and down on my dick with the same enthusiasm flash in front of my eyes.
Christ. I lean back in my chair, grip the poker chip with one hand, and drag the back of the other over my mouth in an attempt to conceal my annoyance. It irks me more than it should knowing my dick is just one of a dozen in this room growing hard at her little stunt.
I slam the rest of my glass and pin Rory with a tight smile. “Ah, you know my newest recruit.”
“Uh-huh. Penny’s real nice. Used to keep me company during my night shifts at the diner.”
I cock a brow. “Night shifts? Did I hire a vampire?”
Instead of laughing, Rory looks down at the table. She traces a finger over the white grid markers and swallows. “She didn’t sleep much after her parents were killed.”
My eyes narrow. “What?”
“Yeah, we were around fourteen when it happened. I started working at the diner at sixteen, and she was still coming in most nights.” She rubs a hand down her arm, like she’s suddenly cold. “I was the same when my mom passed, but only for a few months. Guess you can’t put a timeline on grief.”
Nico didn’t tell me that.
I chug down this new information with a gulp of whiskey, but the liquor doesn’t make it any easier to swallow. It doesn’t sit right in my chest. People only get killed on this Coast if a Visconti pulls the trigger, and our staff only get killed if they are traitors or thieves.
I’m sure the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.
“Why are you glaring at her, anyway?”
I huff out a breath. “I’m not glaring, Rory. It’s her first shift; I’m simply observing her to make sure she’s not”—my doom card—“bad at her job.”
Rory shrugs, a cheeky grin splitting her face. “She seems to be doing just fine to me.”
I follow her gaze and watch as Penelope pours a slushy yellow liquid into a glass and slides it over to one of my now-former business associates at Miller & Young. She lets out a girlish giggle and slips an umbrella and a curly straw into the drink, and, in return, Clive hands her a fistful of notes and a business card.
My stomach tightens. Christ, I’m in a shitty mood tonight.
“If you’ll excuse me, sis.”
Before Rory can beg for another game of Visconti Blackjack, I’m on my feet and striding toward the French doors. I need a cigarette somewhere dark and cold to collect myself.
Somewhere Penelope’s laugh doesn’t heat my blood.
