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What we did last night, that’s going to have consequences. I don’t know how yet, but I can’t imagine sleeping together is going to make anything easier. We have the move coming, we have a million decisions to make, and she needs a clear head. Not one filled with dreams of fucking.
I’m the same way. But now I have the Fiona-bug. I’m sick with her, infected with her. I can’t get her mouth wrapped around the tip of my cock out of my fucking skull.
My phone rings as I sit behind my deck. It’s early, barely past seven, and Carmine’s name is on my screen.
“Morning, bro,” I say, leaning back. “You have a wet dream about me last night?”
“Like always. You sound chipper.” He does not. His voice is throaty and annoyed. “You get laid last night or something?”
“No comment.”
He laughs sharply. “Don’t tell me you’re fucking your fake wife now too?”
“What can I do for you this morning? Are you in need of legal services, or are you just prying into my personal life?”
He sighs. I can see him already, rubbing his face in frustration. “We need to talk about Liam Crowley.”
I sit very still, slowly straightening my spine. “What happened?”
“Nothing bad. Not yet at least.” He lets out an annoyed grunt. “I got word that Liam’s been asking questions about my family. Nothing too nefarious. Just looking into our dealings. But mostly focusing on my friendship with you.”
I close my eyes. “I can see how that might make you unhappy.”
“That’s one way of putting it. Another way is fucking furious that the Crowleys are anywhere near me.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Look, things are good with them. Orin offered me the job, so long as I move to Boston.”
There’s a pause. “That’s good,” he says, sounding suspicious. “But if that’s the case, why’s Liam digging into you?”
“Due diligence, maybe.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “He also thinks there’s something strange about my relationship with Fiona.”
“Oh, god damn it,” Carmine growls. “I knew that shit was going to blow back on me.”
“It’s not all about you, if you recall,” I say through my teeth. I shouldn’t get pissed at Carmine, but I find myself more worried for Fiona than I am for him. Carmine’s a mafia Don—he can handle himself.
“When my business is affected, you better believe it’s all about me.”
“Stop it,” I say through my teeth. “Liam doesn’t know anything for sure. He’s poking around, fishing for something. All we have to do is keep on going like nothing’s wrong.”
“And then what?”
“Then I move to Boston and become one of the most powerful lawyers in the fucking country.”
That’s the goal: work for the Crowleys, amass more connections, more strength.
That’s been my goal for a long time.
So why does it feel hollow? Where’s the excitement I thought I’d feel?
All I have now is worry.
He’s quiet. I can hear him breathing, getting himself under control. Finally, he says, “Moving to Boston, huh?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Have you told Ford yet?”
“Not yet. I figured he won’t be happy.”
