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With Saul Pollin, I decided to ruin his livelihood.
It really hurts a man when his life dream is shattered and he can no longer care for his family. But that’s what you get when you don’t do what’s expected of you. He needs to thank me for not pulling out his teeth and sending them to his wife in the shape of a smiley face.
The mayor shakes my hand and informs me my situation has been handled.
That conversation and handshake are all I came here for.
And to write a check to show how generous us Marchettis are.
“Time to go,” I tell Gigi, checking my watch. “We made it forty-five minutes.”
Gigi rolls her eyes. “I need to use the restroom, then we can go.”
I tip my head while saying goodbye to Concetta and the ladies. She’s muttering something about finding her venomous daughter, but I pretend not to hear it. I’d rather not involve myself in whatever havoc she’s bound to cause tonight.
I follow Gigi across the room until she stops and says, “BRB.”
She disappears into the restroom, and I lean against the wall, crossing my arms while watching the room. It’s something I always do. I always have to be aware of all my surroundings.
That’s when I spot her.
Neomi is at the bar, talking with a man, and she throws her head back while laughing.
The fuck?
She consumes my interest.
I might not want to marry Neomi Cavallaro, but there’s no denying she’s the most gorgeous woman in this room. Other than her mouth, she’s perfect in every way. Her black hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, exposing her face in a way I haven’t seen before. Every other time we’ve crossed paths, she’s worn her hair down. Her cheeks are chubby, rolling up when she laughs at something the asshole said.
I stare at her longer than I should.
Neomi Cavallaro is a fantasy.
She isn’t sweet. She’s dark.
Wicked at times.
But the thing about Neomi that differs from so many women is, she understands my world. She knows the sinister cracks lingering among the glamour. Too bad I want nothing to do with her.
I blink, attempting to read their lips while maintaining my distance.
But that stops when the man she’s speaking with reaches forward and runs his hand down her bare arm.
For some reason, his touch triggers me.
Time to go say hello to my soon-to-be wife.
I snarl, ready to take my annoyance out on the grimy motherfucker who thinks he can touch what’s mine. Pushing off the wall, I charge toward them.
I don’t bother acknowledging the people I run into on my path to them. When my mind is set on a victim, nothing can stop me.
Just as she’s about to take a drink, I nudge myself between her and the asshole. “Excuse me.”
This seems to be our thing.
She does something stupid, forcing me to intervene and save the day.
Forget husband. I’m practically her babysitter.
