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But I didn’t drag my feet after I asked for time off. I had shit to do before I could go. An enforcer doesn’t waltz off. “I got here as soon as I could.” I shrug. “Work.”
Nadia takes a step and shakes her head, mouth twisting in one corner. “I’m sorry. It’s been a hell of a week, and an even worse day. I—”
Coming to the edges of the steps I hold out my hand. “You okay? This got anything to do with your call?”
“Yes and no. I . . . shit, we can’t talk out here on Delvine Street. People talk.”
“Now, there’s a fuckin’ shocker.” I’m sure more than one person has seen me back in town and the tongues are already wagging about me being back. That and the fact I’ve been waiting at Nadia’s door for her.
A small laugh slips free. She doesn’t take my hand as she takes the last step and crosses the porch to the door, but she opens the door for me. Yeah, feeling all sorts of foolish, I follow her in.
* * *
The place is more modern than I remember. A simple big sofa in the living room, a coffee table, and armchairs. There’s a big TV on one wall with a pile of games and a PlayStation controller on top of them. But there’s a wall devoted to books and a pile of what look like essays on the coffee table.
“The owner of the PS5 the reason you called?”
Heat flares dark and becoming in her cheeks as she glances away and nods.
“And?”
Now Nadia glares. “Give me a minute. You turned up out of the blue, Diego.”
“You fuckin’ called me. You went to a lot of fuckin’ trouble to get my number.”
She knows exactly what I’m saying. There’s only one person we both know who has it and to go there, she had to be desperate.
“I came a long way, Longstocking, I’m tired. I’d like to get this shit done.”
“If that’s your attitude, maybe you should go.”
I approach her slowly, deliberately, dropping my bag on the sofa as I do. I only stop when I’m right up in her personal space, taking the particular warmth she gives off down into me, breathing in her air, and the soft neroli and bergamot of her that I’d forgotten until then.
Even at eighteen Nadia wasn’t a perfume wearer, soaps and shampoos, that’s all, and the scent tells me she hasn’t changed that in ten years.
The air vibrates between us. It hums in my bones, a frequency I crave.
I push that away. She’s an absolutely gorgeous woman. One I’ve got a history with. That’s it. Nothing more.
I slip a stray hair behind her ear, the zing in my fingers from brushing her skin shoots through me to my junk. “Not going anywhere until you talk, Nadia.”
“Calling was a mistake . . .” She stops. “Uncharitable, sorry, I just . . .”
“Didn’t expect me to fuckin’ show?”
Nadia tilts her chin, and my stomach contracts as our gazes meet. “Something like that.”
“The past is just that, past. Gone. This is now and you wanted help. I don’t think it was my knitting skills you were after.”
She smiles, and it’s so fuckin’ bright it almost blindsides me. “You knit?”
“No.” I frown, step back, needing the space. “I was making a point.”
Nadia’s silent for a long moment, then she sighs. “It’s about my nephew.”
“Little Jay?”
I almost slap myself up the side of my head as the PS5 piece falls into place. Jay. One of the reasons I knew she’d never leave this fucking hellhole.
