Page 2 of Mine to Tease

“Alright, Brinkley, are you ready? It’s time we trade in our crowns for a dose of courage.” The low growl that escapes him lets me know he doesn’t share my excitement. He’s more of a princess than I am. “Oh, hush now. You’re going to love it here.” Though as I finally shift my attention to outside of the vehicle, I realize I may have spoken too soon.

“Um, no, this can’t…this can’t be right.” I fight with the door handle as worry steals my smile. I yank harder and harder, my frustration building until the driver opens it from the outside.

“Sorry, miss. It’s childproofed.” He flashes me an apologetic smile as he moves aside for me to make my exit.

“Of course it is,” I huff, joining him on the sidewalk. Though one whiff of the rancid air has me begging for the inside of the car. “Oh my God! What is that smell?” I pinch my nose closed as Brinkley buries his in the crook of my arm. “Yes, baby, I know.” I pull him closer to me as if to shield his fur from absorbing the awful aroma.

“It’s New Orleans,” the bald, middle-aged man laughs. “The trash, the sewer.” He opens his arms wide, prompting me to spin around in search of the culprit. Nevertheless, I find no garbage cans, and any debris is minimal. In fact, the street itself looks a little deserted. Unlike the streets on our drive in, and even the one we just turned off of, there are no people out and about, no flowers hanging from second-story balconies, no brightly painted cottages. It’s dull, dim, and dead. And this atrocious odor is simply infused into the very essence of the city.

“Bourbon Street is one block that way, so there’s a little excrement mixed in there too,” the man continues. At that, I turn back to him.

“Excrement!” I move my eyes to the ground, making sure not to step in anything. “From which end?”

“Ha! Both.” His words give a whole new meaning to the stench burning my nostrils. I gag. “Yeah, and the Gulf is just a couple blocks in the opposite direction, so that adds a little extra spice. The summer heat and humidity will only make it worse. But don’t worry, you’ll be used to it by then.”

“Doubtful,” I grumble, both because I can’t imagine how anyone could ever get used to this and because I know there’s been a mistake. There is no way in Hell this is where my brother has chosen for me to live. My eyes move to the little white cottage before me. The cutest thing about it is the gray-blue shutters, but somehow even they look sad. The sidewalk and street are nothing but a mess of cracks and puddles I can only pray are filled with rainwater. Graffiti covers the brick fence of the place next door. What even is that? An apartment complex? It’s way too big to be one residence. There’s no grass to be found, which is a problem for Brinkley, and even the one tree half-hidden by the fence next door is crispy.

I know Aidan did everything he could to convince me to stay in Boston. And even though he finally agreed to let me come, it doesn’t mean he’s happy about it or that this isn’t his last-ditch effort to have me on the first flight back to Boston. In fact, I bet the jet is still here. I could… No, nope, this is exactly what he wanted, and I won’t let him win. I will, however, let him hear about it.

As the driver starts unloading the trunk, I pull my cell phone from my purse and move closer to the place I’m meant to call home. The roof is weathered and the paint is chipped. I try to open the gray-blue shutter nearest me but it’s stuck shut. No handle to pull, no hook to hang it on. The only thing I’ve accomplished is covering my fingers in dust. Being this close to the Gulf and Jackson Square, it’s got to be one of the oldest homes in the city, a couple hundred years at least. I wonder if the inside is just as neglected.

“Aidan, you asshole,” I mumble as I dial him. And, just as expected, he answers on the second ring. “Aidan Christopher Cross,” I start before he can even say hello. “I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is, but it’s not funny and it’s not going to work. When you said you’d make the arrangements for me, I thought you were being nice. Well, maybe not nice, but controlling and protective, like you always are. But now I see you were just being petty. Nevertheless, your plan has failed—no—backfired. Because I’m moving to New Orleans whether you like it or not. And I’ll stay in this little decrepit rathole on this dingy, deserted street just because I know it’ll drive you more insane than it ever will me. For every drunken man that passes by my window at night, for every pile of human waste I step over, for every rat I run from, it’s you who will worry. You’ll be the one with premature wrinkles, not me! Because one, Botox, and two, pride! Oh my God, there’s a rat! There’s an actual rat! Eeek!” I squeal and jump and run ten feet in the opposite direction, pulling Brinkley tighter to my chest as he tries to wriggle free. Aidan takes the break in my tantrum to interject.

“Well, good morning to you too, Anastasia. I see you’ve made it to your destination.”

“Ai—”

“Ana, trust me. I know this move is important to you, which is the only reason I allowed it in the first place.” At that, I brush my disheveled curtain bangs from my face and roll my eyes at his use of the word allow. “I would never jeopardize your safety just to teach you a lesson. Don’t you know by now that everything I do is to keep you safe?” I hear a small inflection in his voice that relaxes me, so much so I actually miss him. As controlling and overbearing as my brother is, we are extremely close, even more so since our parents passed away in a boating accident a couple years ago.

“I know. I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s just…not what I expected.”

“I know, but looks can be deceiving. On the inside you’ll find everything remodeled and furnished by your favorite designer from back home. The entire place is stocked with all the necessities plus your favorite snacks, bed linens, and I even checked your recent purchases so I could have a fresh stock of all your skincare and hair care products as I’m sure you used every piece of luggage you could find for clothes and shoes.”

He’s not wrong. Okay, I guess my brother can be sweet. A small smile lifts my lips as the last of my tension dissipates. Brinkley, sensing it, also settles.

“I’m not happy about this move, Ana, but I want you to be comfortable. Now, get inside before some creep tries to rob you. Without your normal protection detail, the Louis Vuitton and Chanel bags aren’t something you want to show off.” His words have me spinning, searching my surroundings for anyone who may be watching me. I’ll have to get used to that. I’m used to having other people watching out for me.

“Okay, and Aidan, thank you. Thank you for agreeing to let me come and being so thoughtful. I love you, brother.”

“I love you too, Anastasia. Go in through the wrought iron gate on the side of the house. There’s a side entry you’ll use. It’s safer than a street entry, especially being so close to Bourbon. The key is under the mat, and I’ve left a surprise for you inside.”

“A surprise? Hmm, that makes me nervous.”

“Don’t be. You’ll like it. Give Brink a kiss for me and stay safe.”

“I will.”

3

As Aidan moves to the opposite side of the room to take a call, my eyes don’t leave him. Just over a month ago Aidan Cross would’ve been our enemy. After all, it was the Irish who plotted with one of Alister’s rogue capos to take down the Amatos, coming after my charge, Sophia, specifically. They all died glorious deaths, and now we host their king in the very den of our operations. I don’t trust him. My gray-blue glare says as much as I size him up. I’d say he’s about six feet, if I’m being generous, and maybe two hundred pounds. I can take him. Not that my ego and stoic six-three stature would suggest anything less. I crack my tattooed knuckles as my eyes burn a hole into Aidan’s back. Gio clears his throat, pulling my attention and ire to him. Ru notices and closes in on Aidan, watching what I can’t. Good girl.

“Damon, I know you’re not happy right now,” he starts.

“Understatement of the fucking year and it’s just getting started. What even is this? I thought the whole point of B&B was to separate ourselves from a life of crime and stay out of the mob’s way as they take territory that we all know isn’t truly theirs,” I say, loud enough for our guest to hear. I shoot another pointed look at his gray suit jacket as he fights the urge to turn back to us. Hmm, whoever he’s on the phone with must be important. He’s been over there for a couple minutes and he hasn’t uttered a word.

“It is—was,” Gio says. At that, I turn back to him, brows raised. “It’s complicated.” He motions for us to take a seat in the set of chairs closest to the fountain. I oblige, hoping his explanation of this so-called complication will mean all hope for the Mafia here in New Orleans isn’t lost. I sink into the tiny, rigid chair, forcing down an expletive for the sake of whatever shred of decorum remains. There’s a reason I prefer the stairwell.

“Look, I don’t have all the answers when it comes to B&B. The intention is to keep everything completely legit, but obviously, we can’t just turn our backs on longtime Amato allies or new alliances that are still shaky.” Gio nods in Aidan’s direction. “You know as well as I do that connections are everything, and until Alister is back in New Orleans, perhaps even then, he’s vulnerable. Should he need us, we need to be ready. And should we need the help of our allies, we need to make sure we can still call on them.”

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