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“Besides, it was warmer out today than it has been, so my usual sweatshirt and leggings were out of the question. It was hot.”
“If you’re hot, put on the damn air conditioning,” I grind out. She’s been prancing around in this getup all day with Enzo here? I’m going to fucking kill him.
“Enzo knows how to control the thermostat. Don’t you, Enzo?” I call out from over Luxtyn’s head, but my eyes remain glued to hers.
“Sorry. Must’ve forgotten,” Enzo calls out from the couch. I snap my gaze to his, and he’s smiling.Definitely going to kill him.
“And why the fuck are you wearing Enzo’s shirt?” My voice is harsh, but Luxtyn doesn’t show if it’s affected her. In fact, she seems happy. As if she finds enjoyment in getting under my skin.
“Iwaswearing mine originally, but I spilled my coffee on it this morning, and since I didn’t bring a surplus of clothes with me to NYC in the first place, Enzo was generous enough to lend me his for the time being while I wash my stuff.”
She gives me a sardonic smile as she wiggles to free herself from my grasp. I let her struggle for a few moments, relishing the way her body feels as it rubs up against mine.
“This’ll be the last time you ever have another man’s shirt on. You need something to wear, Little Lux, you come to me.” Her breath catches in her throat as she stops moving and her eyes stare up into mine. I drop my gaze to her lips, and her delicious pink tongue darts out to moisten them.
She falters slightly but attempts to pull the shirt down as if it’ll cover anything with it tied at her hip. I rake my gaze down her frame, taking in her toned legs. Legs I’ve been fantasizing about having wrapped around me.
“So,” she says, pulling me from my intrusive thoughts. “Do you have anything on my mom?”
I let out a sigh. “Nothing other than what Enzo told you.”
“You said you would help me find her.”
“I know.”
“Then why haven’t you figured anything out?” she yells. Stepping back, she lets out a long breath as if she’s trying to calm herself down. “Put yourself in my shoes. If your mom was missing, wouldn’t it drive you crazy? Wouldn’t you want to do everything in your power to get her back?”
Yes. Not being there to help my parents is something I regret every single day.
The sadness washes over her face as her eyes grow glossy. “Can I at least help? Please. I want to help. Ineedto help.”
Nothing but silence encompasses the air around us as I contemplate my options. Running a hand through my hair, I finally speak. “I’m not sure why it’s been this difficult to find your mother. Silvestri can be cocky, and he can be messy. If he’s the one who kidnapped her, I should’ve heard about it by now with the tactics I’ve been using.”
“Okay. . . so, what does that mean?”
“You don’t think Silvestri’s behind taking Lux’s mom?” Enzo asks as he pushes himself up off the couch and walks overto us.
When the fuck did he start calling herLux?
The way he says her name is so. . . comfortable. Like they’re best friends who’ve known each other for years. I don’t fucking like it.
I shake my head. “Not exactly. Mancini’s theory with Mauricio behind it is strong. I need to gain access to Mauricio, but if I do, that’ll put us in the limelight and has the potential to start a war.”
Silence fills the air once more. “What if I do it?” Luxtyn asks. “What if I can get close to Mauricio?”
“Absolutely fucking not,” I say at the same time Enzo responds, “The fuck, no.”
Luxtyn bounces her gaze from mine to his and back to mine again. “Fine. That would probably be too obvious anyway, but what about Elena and Giuliana?”
“Another terrible idea,” I say while Enzo asks, “Are you insane?” at the same time as me.
Rolling her eyes, she continues. “Angelo brought up wanting me to meet them.” She points at me. “You even said you wouldn’t be surprised if Elena knows something about my mom’s disappearance. I think I should go and see if I can figure anything out.”
“No,” I say with finality.
She lets out a frustrated breath and mutters, “So ridiculous.” She folds her arms across her chest, causing her shirt to ride up and her tits to lift.
Fuck this.
