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“Exactly.”
She released a little laugh, and the sound was nice. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.” I stared at her beside me, loving those sexy hips. She had an hourglass figure. Unbelievable. I felt my dick start to harden after its reprieve. “Did your family move here with you?”
Without flinching whatsoever, she answered the question. “No.”
“So, your parents are still in Italy?”
“Not my mother.”
“Where is she?”
“Dead.” She said it without emotion, like she couldn’t care less. Or it was just a front to mask her unbearable pain.
“I’m sorry.” I’d never had parents, so I could never really understand the loss. “At least you have your father.”
“Ha.” She released a sarcastic laugh. “Not really.”
Now I was right where I wanted. “You don’t get along?”
“We don’t speak.”
“How long has that been going on?”
“Seven years.”
“I’m sorry.”
Her eyes were still hard, completely callous.
“May I ask why?”
Her eyes remained steady, like she’d zoned out during our conversation. “He’s an asshole. That’s why.”
I knew that was the end of the conversation, so I didn’t press it.
“What about you?”
After my interrogation, I was obligated to answer. “I was a surprise to my parents. I was more than they could handle, so they dropped me off in an orphanage. I was two years old, so I don’t remember them.”
She turned to look at me, her eyes sympathetic.
“I left the orphanage when I was sixteen. Got involved with the wrong crowd but made the right connections. Rose through the ranks, killed anyone who got in my way, and now I run the biggest drug empire in France.”
Her eyes remained steady.
“Guess we have something in common… My dad’s an asshole too.”
“Have you ever reconnected with them?”
“No,” I said with a slight laugh. “I tracked them down to kill them in their sleep. But then shit got in the way.”
“What kind of shit?”
“Kids.”
Her eyebrows furrowed.
