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“Ours,” she clarifies quietly. “I’m his not-so-silent partner.”
“You’re bankrolling your brother’s dream?”
“And softening my grandfather’s slide into dementia.”
“No wonder you’ve been burning your way through the city’s poker tables.”
“A woman has to do what’s necessary.”
“No shit.” I move closest to the curb as we turn onto Salem Street.” A dozen questions beg to be asked, so I start with the least obvious. “When did you win your first game?” Her eyes slide over in confusion, and I decide not to retract it.
“I was seven, and Nonno let me play one hand with him and his buddies. Everyone thought it was luck, but I knew the way numbers ran through my head had nothing to do with luck.”
“And you’ve been perfecting your skills ever since.”
“Something like that.”
Laughing at the cryptic answer, I accept that she possesses more layers than any pastry in the bakery, and it will take a miracle for her to show me one. “Why have you stayed away from Encore? Are you playing somewhere else?”
“I took the week off. One of Nonno’s caretakers had a family obligation, so I decided to fill in.” She stops next to the drugstore. “Vargas made it pretty clear how he feels about losing to a woman, and I’m not ready to test his resolve.”
Moving closer, I trace the inside of her wrist. “I made my position clear when he threatened you so you can return to Encore and play as much as you want.”
“I appreciate the chivalry—”
“But?” She slides her hand down her neck, making a primal desire spark to life.
“I live in the real world and know your family will not approve of me becoming your pet project.”
My jaw clenches involuntarily as my concern for her battles with my family responsibilities. “I excel at juggling shit, so don’t worry about how many balls I’ve got in the air. I’ll deal with Vargas.”
Her gaze doesn’t waiver. “Thank you, Enzo, but I can fight my own battles.”
“I’m not gonna insult you and suggest that’s a naïve statement, but—”
“I know he’s a monster.” She steps away. “I’ve got options, so don’t worry about me.”
Courage and determination. Does she know how much I admire both qualities? “Are you refusing my offer because you’re unaccustomed to someone helping or because you’re worried about me holding a marker?”
“Maybe both,” she mutters, a genuine smile gracing her lips as we begin walking again.
“This is a no-string offer.”
“Do things like that even exist?”
“With me, they do.” I stop and tip her chin. “I do horrible things and do them well, but that doesn’t mean my promises are empty. You can take my word to the grave.” She blinks twice. “What?”
“Every time we’re together, it feels like I have every ounce of your attention.”
“Because you do.” The air around us stops moving, and I wonder what about this woman makes me want to be unflinchingly honest.
“I have no idea what to do with that.” She looks away. “I appreciate the whole slay the dragon thing, but we both know raising your sword in my defense will sound alarm bells that we both want to keep quiet.”
Sliding my finger under her chin, I turn her face so our gazes lock. “Perhaps you’re worth the trouble,” I reply, my voice rough with challenge.
“The dangerous fortune I won is my problem, and I won’t lay it on your door.” She leans up on her tip toes and kisses my cheek. “Thanks for the offer, though.”
I hold her in place and put my mouth against her ear. “It’s a gold-plated promise, sweetheart.”
