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I’m freaking her all the fucking way out. We managed to have an intensely personal conversation about our sex lives after only knowing each other a week. A conversation that detailed how our sex lives are joining. That was fine. This? This is not fine.
“Sinead, I’m not trying to give you an ultimatum. I’m telling you facts about the reality you’ve stepped into. All our bodyguards carry weapons. They’re there to protect the people in my family from a lot more than someone looking in their direction. If I felt the need for you to have a detail from the very start, it’s because I believe there’s a real danger to you. I don’t live in a world where calling the cops is the solution. Quite honestly, if I didn’t know my life depended on it, I wouldn’t carry a gun. I wouldn’t even own one. If I didn’t live in this world, I wouldn’t feel like I need one. Not to protect myself. Not to protect my home. But I was born into this, just like the last six generations of my family. I’m surprised they didn't give me my first knife at my baptism, and my first gun at my confirmation. I will not risk your safety, nor will I apologize for protecting you. It’s non-negotiable for me. If this gun is a deal breaker for you, then we go our separate ways.”
“This is a fuck ton to take in right now, Gabriele. My head is fucking spinning. Part of me is surprised you have one somewhere like this, and part of me thinks I’m fucking stupid for being one bit surprised. Part of me is glad that you can protect yourself, and I appreciate you can protect me. But it’s also terrifying to know you might need to protect me. I didn’t consider whether your men would carry them. I guess I thought their presence would make people know I’m off limits. Now I feel supremely naïve and even stupider for it. The scared part of me says run. The ambitious part of me says pull your big girl panties up and get over it. The attracted to you part of me doesn’t want to think anything could happen to you and wants you too much to have much common sense. I don’t know what to do.”
“I take you to Auntie Paola’s. You sleep and think about it with a clear head in the morning. If you can’t sleep, then you at least rest. When I was really little and hated taking naps, my mom would tell me to have a body rest. I still wanted to be up doing stuff, playing, but it did me some good. And if you get scared in the middle of the night, you come and get me. I’ll stay with you until you aren’t scared.”
I hope she can hear the sincerity in my voice and see it in my eyes. I hope she knows I regret all of this shit coming even remotely close to her. I’m seriously fucking questioning why I’m doing any of this. I should stay away from her. I should insist Uncle Massimo and Uncle Salvatore find someone else to represent me. Someone with experience with syndicates; someone I couldn’t give two shits about. I don’t want this undertow to suck her down and drown her.
That’s what it does to anyone else who gets too close to syndicate life. Maria was born into this. She didn’t have any choice. Serafina was born into two different Italian syndicates: Venice and Sicily. She’s like Maria and has known nothing else. But Olivia met Luca because a cartel tried to suck her in, and now that she’s married into the Cosa Nostra, she’ll never be free of it. Not now that it’s touched her life. Is that what I want to have happen to Sinead?
“All right. I have to be in court at eight tomorrow. It’s getting late, and I’m exhausted. Let’s go.”
“Are you all right with this?”
“I have no choice, really. So, I’ll get all right with it.”
She turns toward the door, and I walk with her. I lean past to open it, and we come face-to-face with Lorenzo. He sweeps his eyes over us, but his expression shows nothing Sinead could interpret. I can tell he’s certain we didn’t go all the way to sex, and he’s glad. He didn’t stop me, but now that I’m not in a lust haze, I know he wouldn’t have approved. It wouldn’t have been a moral judgement. It would be him worried I wouldn’t get the best possible defense because I compromised Sinead’s ability to detach reason from emotion. He doesn’t need to know about last night.
“We’re headed to Auntie Paola’s.”
“Did you text her?”
Fuck.
“I will now.”
Sinead looks up at me, her eyes wide.
“It’s after midnight, Gabriele. You can’t text her now. I’ll check myself into a hotel.”
I stare down at her, and I see the mutinous glare enter her eyes. I can wait her out.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Apparently, Lorenzo can’t. “Sinead, go to our aunt’s house. She won’t care at all. Hell, she’s probably awake working on a campaign speech or something. If you go to a hotel, Gabriele will spend the entire night standing outside your door. Do us all a favor and let him sleep. He’s fucking Grumpy from the Seven Dwarfs if you don’t. You think he’s stubborn now? Wait till he doesn’t get his four hours of beauty sleep. He’s fucking Shrek. Auntie Paola has the best beds in her guest bedrooms. She also loves soft towels and always has practically a buffet in her kitchen around the clock. You won’t want to leave.”
Sinead’s listening to him but watching me. I’m not trying to push my will onto her anymore. I’ll let Lorenzo’s reasoning do it for me. She nods, but she still hasn’t taken her eyes off me. Lorenzo steps aside to let us pass, and we walk through the club with Sinead a step behind me. I nod to Marco as we approach the door. He smiles at Sinead, and he knows how women react to it. But it falters before he looks at me. When he gets nothing from me, he goes back to Sinead. I feel her shift and step closer to my back.
“Sinead, this is Marco. He’s Lorenzo’s older brother. He’s one of Uncle Massimo’s sons.”
She steps around me and extends her hand, which Marco takes. I’m surprised he doesn’t do the whole air kiss over her hand and say “enchanté.” He’s goading me while trying to see if he’s allowed on the field.
“Hello, Sinead.”
“Hi.”
I turn, so I can see both of them. She’s watching me, not Marco. Her expression is expectant. Does she want more of an introduction? Or is she trying to get me out the door?
“We’re headed to Auntie Paola’s.”
“Will I see you at the gym in the morning?”
I gaze down at Sinead.
“I usually go at four and will be back about six-thirty. Which court do you need to be at?”
“Queens Criminal Court.”
“That’s not too bad. Auntie Paola lives in Queens.”
