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I wanted to tell her that I’d broken the fucker’s nose. That I would be slicing him slowly to pieces later. That I wasn’t some fucking kid. I wanted her to know I was someone that other men were scared of. My name meant something. I wanted her to see me as a man.
But I couldn’t tell her any of those things.
“Go put your stuff up. You’re not leaving.”
She sighed, her shoulders dropping. “I can’t stay here forever.”
“I’m not asking for forever. I’m telling you, for now, you’re staying.”
“Fine,” she replied and went to pick up her bag from where I’d dropped it. “Do you want me in your room, or should I go back to the white-and-gold room?”
“My room, Lollipop.”
She headed back up the stairs, and I watched her go. I knew there was more shit I didn’t know. She’d given me a brief recap. She’d been mistreated by the man who had taken her virginity. He’d pay for it. Until he did, I was going to be on edge.
I went to get my drink and resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to tell her who I was, who we were. It was time she understood. Blaise was right; if I didn’t tell her, she was going to run, thinking it was keeping us safe.
Twenty-Two
Gypsi
Mom: Are you okay?
I read the text, wondering how she always knew when something was wrong. I hoped Trev hadn’t said anything to Garrett about Tyde. If Mom found out, she’d demand to come back. I wanted Paris to be good for her.
Yes, I’m fine. Going to sit by the pool to read a book.
That wasn’t a lie. I had downloaded a book onto my phone, and I was going out by the pool to read it. Something to get my mind off everything. Sitting up here and staring at the wall wasn’t helping me. Trev hadn’t come back, and it had been over an hour.
Mom: I’m so glad you’re doing something relaxing. You never do that anymore.
I didn’t respond to that. Instead, I opened the veranda door and walked outside. Trev was nowhere to be seen, and that was probably a good thing.
Mom: We went to the Louvre today! I’ll send pics.
I waited until I took off my cover-up and was settled on a lounger before looking at the pictures. Mom looked like she was glowing in them; she was so happy. She was on her biggest adventure yet.
The door opened, and I lifted my gaze to see Trev walking out with a glass in his hand. It looked like he was drinking whiskey at three in the afternoon. He hadn’t meant to join me either. I could tell by his expression when he realized I was out here.
I wasn’t sure what to say to him. I wanted to apologize again, but that wasn’t enough.
He walked over and sat in the lounger connected to mine, then leaned back, crossing his legs at the ankles before turning his head to look at me. “It’s my turn to talk,” he said.
“Okay.”
“You like the Corleone family,” he said.
A small laugh escaped me. “Yeah.” Why was he talking about The Godfather again?
“Try to keep that in mind,” he told me, then looked straight ahead instead of at me.
I watched him take a drink of his whiskey.
His brow was drawn together in a frown. “We aren’t just wealthy racehorse breeders.”
“I figured your dad owned a lot of things. I didn’t think racehorses could afford this lifestyle,” I said.
He smirked. “No, it doesn’t. And, yes, Dad owns a hotel chain, a hospital, a casino in Vegas, banks, a lot of fucking stocks, and he’s the boss of the Southern Mafia.” He turned his head back to me.
For a moment, I was expecting him to laugh and say he was joking. The serious expression, however, didn’t go away. He was watching me. Waiting on me to say something.
“You’re serious,” I finally managed to say.
“Very.”
I stared out at the pool. My mind reeling over the fact that there was a Southern Mafia to begin with and that my mother was dating the boss. She didn’t know. She couldn’t. Or did she? Was this another of her adventures?
“In real life, what does that mean?” I asked him.
“Our family started it decades ago. Over the years, it’s meant just about everything you are currently thinking. Giving you details, however, isn’t something I can do.”
I looked at him. “Because you don’t know?”
He grinned, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “I know.”
But he couldn’t tell me. His response was extremely vague.
“But you aren’t …” I paused, unsure of how to say this. “You don’t go and … kill people.”
He looked down at his drink. “Some people need to be killed.”
I swallowed hard. “Who does the killing?”
He shrugged. “Depends.”
“I mean, is it Blaise? Garrett?”
