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“We all are,” I said. “We all look out for our own blood. Good on you for risking mine to get what you want.”
“What if I make it worth it?” We strolled down the next aisle, lights flickering around us, tempting me to imagine a life where I bought one for her bathroom and our house.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
She spun around so fast I nearly lost my footing, then she ran her hand down the front of my pants. “I’m not.”
“Shit.” I touched my forehead to hers. “We’re in public.”
“Should have turned the lights off,” she joked, glancing around the lighting department.
“Funny.” I cracked a smile because it actually was, and she was fucking cute, and damn it! How did this happen?
Her hand moved up, sliding across my stomach, tickling my skin, causing too many hellishly good sensations before snaking around my neck and pulling me down for a kiss.
I didn’t even hesitate. The contours of her mouth fit mine perfectly, and like an addict, I got a rush each time her lower lip rubbed against mine or each time my upper lip grazed hers. When my tongue parted her lips and toyed with hers—I knew I was being immoral, ignoring my vow to everyone—but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.
Maybe I was the selfish one.
I captured her lips again and again, and with each kiss, I fell deeper under a spell I wasn’t sure I wanted to be snapped out of. One minute we would stop, maybe two, and everything would be normal. We’d get the door.
But I needed more time. That was one thing I knew I never really had a lot of.
Andrei had spies everywhere, and there I was kissing Andrei’s sister in the middle of the fucking Home Depot light section.
Give me more of this dream.
Give me more of this alternate reality where I get the girl. And I don’t die.
What a fantasy.
What a life.
What a tragedy.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Mafia is a process, not a thing. Mafia is a form of clan—cooperation to which its individual members pledge lifelong loyalty… Friendship, connections, family ties, trust, loyalty, obedience—that was the glue that held us together.” —Joseph Bonanno
Katya
When we got back from Home Depot, it felt like a live wire had been attached to my body every time Santino walked close to me. Had our kissing and sex somehow tethered us together, or was I a victim of my own imagination? His hand grazed my lower back as we walked into the house. The men were already hard at work grabbing everything we’d purchased, and I was already disappointed that I was most likely going to be bored out of my mind the rest of the day or roaming the massive mausoleum once again.
I shivered from the air conditioning—at least, that’s what I told myself. Nobody really paid me any attention, which was good because I was wearing my emotions all over my sleeve. I looked guilty and well and truly screwed; it’s not like I could make up something, and I wasn’t the best liar. Santino would have to help me with that.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Santino barked.
Nixon chose a bad time to walk around the corner holding a sandwich in his hands. His eyebrows rose as he looked between us, then he held up his hands, slowly turned around, and walked away.
My body pulsed with the need to either run up the stairs and away from Santino or run into him and say yes to whatever he had in mind. “What do you mean?”
“Does a promise mean nothing to you? Does sex? Blood? Sweat?” His massive boot took a step toward me, followed by the other, and then I noticed the hammer in his right hand. “Mean nothing?”
I couldn’t breathe. He was magnificent and terrifying all at once. “It does. It means everything.”
His body bent over until his mouth was so close I could taste our kiss from earlier. “What about fear? What does that mean?”
“More.” I trembled.
