Page 37 of Mine to Tease

She looks at me and brings her hand to mine. Giving me a gentle squeeze, she says, “I was going to say this is something I could get used to. I quite like being spoiled.”

“Oh, trust me, I know. But that’s good to hear, because I could get used to this too.”

“Yeah?” She looks at me with raised brows.

“Yeah.”

37

Three Months Later

It’s just after seven in the evening on a Saturday, which means it’s the official end of the work day and week. My shop has been open for just over two months now and it’s been so much fun and a huge success. Even though the renovations nearly killed me, now, every day I get to show up to a beautiful store full of fresh pink flowers, flickering candles, sparkling jewelry, exquisite lingerie, and romantic attire for day or night. Additionally, my online store is booming and I already have several in-person regulars, mostly thanks to Damon and his cousin Sophia.

Damon invited Sophia to my store opening and she flew down with several of her friends from Savannah. Not to mention, she knows a ton of people here in New Orleans—people with money. Oh, the fringe benefits of being a Mafia princess. Obviously, she couldn’t tell them who I am because we aren’t sure what their stance is on the current Mafia/mob tensions. But Damon trusts Sophia, and Sophia invited only the women she feels she can trust. So even though I haven’t been able to share my latest venture with my friends back in Boston, in just two months I’ve made back almost all the money I invested into my renovations. Once I turn a profit, I might be able to bring on some help. But I actually really love the everyday grind. Grind? Who am I? Besides, manning the store and fulfilling all the online orders has kept me busy and my mind occupied, which is exactly what I’ve needed while my brother tries to restore peace among the Irish and the Italians he pissed off.

Damon doesn’t tell me much, which is honestly for the best. But he’s told me enough to explain the additional precautions he’s implemented as my protector and why I couldn’t confront Aidan after I learned the truth about their little arrangement. We’ve texted a few times, but I haven’t seen my brother in over six months. We don’t know who’s watching.

I take a deep breath then and do my best to shove the unwanted thoughts from my mind. It’s been three months since Aidan killed Angelo and we’ve been anticipating retaliation ever since. Three months and no threats, close calls, break ins, or attacks. Maybe we’ve been worried for nothing. Or perhaps my brother has handled it and he’s just continuing to be cautious for a little while longer. I know he has a big event coming up next week. Tons of people from back home are coming down to see how he’s handling the new position and to see for themselves how valuable the acquisition of the Amato territory is. My brother is under a lot of stress right now. Maybe he wants to make it through his big State of the Union before he addresses things with me.

Taking that thought with me, I redirect my attention to my closing duties. I shut down my POS system, wipe down the mirrors, glass display cases, and French doors, and dust the shelves and tops of the fireplaces. Next up, I fold the few items my last customers left a little out of sorts, make sure all the hanging clothes are lying nice and flat, and dry mop the floor.

On days like today, I leave Brinkley at home so the cleaning goes by a little quicker. Damon steps out to feed and walk him so he isn’t completely thrown off his routine. But, other than Saturdays, Brinkley loves coming to work with me and my customers are obsessed with him. So obsessed, I started a new promo. Spend two hundred dollars or more and receive complimentary cuddles from Brinkley. Despite his hesitancy toward Damon, he befriends women with money easily, the little scoundrel. Having him with me and Damon just downstairs has been two of the best parts of my new routine and another good distraction from everything else.

Damon pops in a few times a day to check on me, bring me coffee, steal my macarons—mini eye roll—and we eat lunch together every day by the fireplace closest to the French doors overlooking the Quarter. Mostly, we get things from the place next door, the Court of Two Sisters. Turns out it’s just as good as I thought it’d be. And, for dessert, we spend some time alone in my inventory closet. Thinking back on our various make-out sessions makes me smile, though, as good as our days are, I’d be lying if I said the best part of my day wasn’t how they begin and end.

Damon and I haven’t spent a night apart in three months. Every morning, I wake to him either holding me in his arms or to him in the kitchen preparing my breakfast. Every night, we either spend quiet time together on the couch or do something fun on the way home like taking a romantic walk, trying a new restaurant, or visiting an art gallery. Because I’m trying to keep a low profile, we don’t go to many places that my brother may frequent. But he did take me to the ballet at the Saenger Theater once and it was magical. Still, no matter how we spend our days or evenings, it’s our nights that are my favorite and they always end the same way—naked. Because of Damon, I’ve actually had to be a little stricter about borrowing the store’s inventory seeing as most of the outfits end up on our bedroom floor ripped, torn, or missing buttons. Our—that sounds nice.

As I finish up my closing duties, I plop down in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace and take a deep breath. It’s still surreal to me what I’ve turned this place into. But, as much as the interior of these four walls has transformed, so has everything else in my life. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined the happiness I have now nor the passion and hope. Women like me don’t own businesses or make their own choices or fall in love. We are our father’s bargaining chip and our husband’s arm candy. We don’t make money. We spend it. And we don’t choose. We are told. With everything I’ve accomplished with my store and with Damon by my side, I have everything I could ever want. I’ve transformed into a woman I never thought I could become. Yet there’s still a small part of me that feels like the eighteen-year-old girl who snuck out of her dorm room to lose her virginity.

I’ve been hiding from my brother, both the truth of me and Damon and the happiness he brings me. I don’t want to hide anymore. And so I’ve decided that when I do see my brother, I will tell him the truth. I will shed the few remaining shackles of my former life and Damon and I will start ours together—officially.

It’s then that the sound of footsteps draws my attention to the doorway. I glance at my phone. It’s 7:30. “Right on time,” I say to myself. I stand just as Damon enters my shop carrying a large bouquet of pink peonies.

38

“Oh my gosh, Damon! They’re beautiful! But what’s the occasion?” I ask as Damon places the bouquet on the small coffee table in front of the fireplace. Up close, they smell glorious and they match my store perfectly. Although, why wouldn’t he have them delivered to my house since we won’t be here for the next few days? My shop is open only Wednesday to Saturday.

“As if I need an occasion to buy you flowers,” Damon remarks. Though, as our eyes meet, I’m surprised by his grim expression. “But these are not from me.”

“What? What do you mean?” We both look at the flowers, unsure of what to do with them. Damon’s lips press into a flat line. He crosses his arms over his chest as he lets out a sigh of either contemplation or frustration—I’m not sure which. “Who could they be from?” I walk around the bouquet, scanning the stems for a card, and Damon dips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a small white envelope. He holds it between two fingers, looking more displeased than I’ve seen in a long time. “Damon…what’s going on?” I take a step back from the flowers then as if they are a bomb waiting to detonate. My eyes widen as a chill works itself up my arms and across my chest. “Damon, who are the flowers from?” He looks at me and the energy in the room shifts. Standing before me isn’t my boyfriend, rather my protector. My stomach twists as I anticipate his answer. Have they found me? What are we going to do? We should run! We should hurry!

“They’re from Aidan,” he says.

“Jesus!” I let out a sigh of relief and bring my hand to my chest. “Well, thank God. You had me worried. Let me see the note.” Damon hands me the envelope, though I can sense his reluctance. It’s already been opened so he’s obviously read it. Well, of course he has. If the flowers had been from a suspicious party, they could’ve been poisoned for all he knew and he would’ve wanted to dispose of them immediately. Though now that I know they’re from my brother, I’m not quite sure what’s with Damon’s mood.

I open the envelope and quickly read my brother’s scribble. “It says he wants to meet,” I tell him, though I know he already knows. According to the note, my brother has booked us two adjoining hotel suites under aliases at the Royal Sonesta Hotel on Bourbon Street. I’m to meet him there in an hour for a private dinner in his suite. Yet, I’m to enter through mine so that no one knows we’re meeting. It seems he’s still taking precautions, which suggests the conflict with the Italians hasn’t been handled or he’s simply trying to protect the private life I’ve built for myself. Either way, the thought of seeing my brother makes me happy, a happiness Damon clearly does not share.

“Why now?” Damon asks then. I look to him and find him deep in thought. His eyes are narrowed as he brings his hand to the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s one week until his big State of the Union. You’d think he’d be occupied with preparations. Not to mention, the looming threats against him. Why reach out now? It just doesn’t make sense.” Damon shakes his head and sits down on the chair opposite the one I was sitting. As he does, he pulls out his phone and immediately begins typing.

“What are you doing?” I ask, moving to sit on his thigh. I can tell he’s worried and maybe I should be too. But what is there to worry about? “It’s Aidan’s handwriting, Damon. And pink peonies are my favorite flower. He would know that. This seems genuine. And he’s still taking precautions so that we aren’t seen together in public. So what’s the problem?”

Damon shoots off a text, which I see is to my brother. Then he takes a deep breath, and rests his hand on my lower back. “The problem is, this was unexpected and I don’t like unexpected, especially during a time like this. So you aren’t going anywhere until I hear back from him directly that this invitation is real. Understand?”

“Yes. But, Damon, what if it’s not real? Aren’t we wasting time? What’s the plan?” He looks at me and gently rubs my back. We haven’t talked much about what will happen if a threat becomes an attack. All I know is to listen to him, do exactly as he says, and trust him. Other than that, he’s told me to leave the details to him, which I’ve been glad to do. But now…

“If it’s not, then…I have a plane standing by, ready to get us out of this city at a moment’s notice.”

“What? A plane? Damon, how?”

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