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She clips her seatbelt and settles back into the chair, fingers running over the leather dashboard appreciatively. “It was my aunt's name, Polish.”
“Polish?”
“Yeah. I’m a bit of a mix really. Polish, British, Albanian. Pretty sure there's some German in there too.” She shrugs. “When my mum and dad found out they were having twins, they agreed to each choose a name, my mum picked mine and then ended up picking Aleksys too.” She lets out a breath of airy amusement. “I don’t think it suits me at all.”
I glance sideways at her. “How can your own name not suit you?”
“Casimira means ‘she who proclaimed peace’ but I think it's quite clear that's not really me.” She spares me an amused look. “Just call me Cas. My mum is the only one who calls me Casimira and it’s usually only when I’m in trouble.” She is trouble.
Her hair falls over her shoulder and she tosses it back with a perfectly manicured hand. Her perfume wafts over and I shift in my seat. Smells like expensive excitement. Smells like my brain is no longer functioning. “Nah, I like Casimira.”
She rolls her eyes saying something indecipherableunder her breath in Polish.
So I say the only thing I know in a Slavic language. “Na zdrowie.” I butchered the fuck out of that.
Her eyebrows shoot up and she splutters a laugh, shaking her head. “That's the only polish you know, isn't it?”
“Yeah, I had some business associates from Poland a while ago. That's the only phrase I managed to pick up. Teach me something else?” A smile plays on her lips as she leans back into the door so she faces me more.
“Prawie nie przyszlam dzis wieczorem, bo mezczyzni tacy jak ty mnie przerazaja.”
I fight a shiver at the base of my spine at the sound. She has a husky voice when she speaks English, but in Polish? The way the words spill from her lips is like a rough caress, like nails down your back.
I’m not even attempting it. “What does it mean?”
She shrugs, pulling her legs underneath her. “You’re a cheat and a bad driver.”
I bark a laugh. “Bullshit.”
She folds her lips together squashing a smile. “Okay fine, something easier-.“ She pauses and thinks for a second. “Dobranoc. It means good night or cheers before you ask.”
I chew the word over in my mind first. “Dobranoc.”
She nods enthusiastically. “Not bad actually. You're already better than my stepdad. Me and my mum tried to teach him for years.”
“Are you close with your parents?” Not sure why, but I wanna know everything about this girl, what she cares about and what makes her tick. All of it. I don’t think she lets a lot of people know the person she is off stage, so knowing something about her feels like valued information.
“I speak to my mum most days when we can catch each other because of the time difference. I've got two younger brothers who keep her pretty busy.”
“And your dad?”
“He left when I was 5, haven't seen him since.” She says indifferently. The sun pokes through a gap in between the buildings and it illuminates her side profile in a way that shouldn’t be legal. She’s ridiculous. Utterly fucking ridiculous. The way her bottom lip is so plump it almost meets the skin below it. The harsh lines of her Cupid’s bow on her top lip. The way the green in her eyes catches the light as she turns her attention on me. “That was five questions you just asked. I get five now.”
I clear my throat and turn my face back towards the road before I’m blinded because I stared too close to the sun. “You can have three.”
We stop at a red light and she cocks her head. Eyes searing into me enough that I can feel them on the side of my face like a tangible presence, hot and heavy. “Are you in the mafia?”
It takes me back slightly. Most girls know who I am but no one has been so brazen to just ask me outright. I turn back towards the road as the light goes green. “The mafia,” I say dramatically before sighing. “I don't like that term.” Outsiders call us the Cosa nostra or the mafia, they see us as a tightly run crime syndicate. They're not far off but we’re more than just a business. We're a family. A brotherhood. It's a way of life.
“You're evading.”
I spare her a glance. She is the picture of self-assured confidence. Relaxed posture, open face. “What do you think?”
“That’s not an answer.” She raises her eyebrows.
I let out a long breath. “Yes.”
She pauses, twisting back so she faces the windscreen and for a moment, I’m not sure what she will do next. Until she says four simple words I’m not sure I’ve ever been asked before. “Do you enjoy it?”
