Page 6 of Forbidden Girl

The fact that she made me come in under three minutes doesn’t hurt, either. That was mind-blowing. I should have let her fuck me sooner. I might have if she didn’t give off such sweet, femme, bottom vibes. She has hidden depths and that scares me. I know myself—the deeper I dive, the more feelings I’ll catch, and I can’t afford that with the burden of my father’s empire resting on my shoulders… and her father’s resting on hers. She has me wishing that I’d been born into a normal family, had a father with a nine to five instead of the fucking kingpin I’m stuck with.

Merrick clears his throat. It tears me from my thoughts. “Here.” I feel the butt of my Glock against my knee under the table. I almost forgot I’d given it to him before I went to the bathroom. Jules hates guns. I wasn’t about to show up with it holstered to my back, for what finite amount of time I had with her. I take it from him, lift my button-down shirt from my waist, and secure the weapon in its discreet cradle.

“We should get going,” declares Ben. “Fu—friggin’ Italians get so cranky when they have to wait.”

I check the time—10:42 p.m. They’ve already been at the dock for twelve minutes.

“He’s right,” Elisa confirms. “Frankie’s temper is out of control.”

That’s because he gets high on his own supply. Idiot. Damn it. I don’t want to deal with his whiny Sicilian bullshit tonight. I cover my angst with an eyeroll. “Your cousin will wait as long as I want him to wait, or he can drive down to Harlem for his snow from now on.”

She smirks at me like she’s impressed. Francisco Rossi doesn’t scare me, and she knows it. He’s got a big mouth and a flashy chrome Colt 1911, but he’s nothing like his uncle. Or my father or Jules’s. He doesn’t have the stomach for real brutality. Alfonso Rossi wouldn’t allow him to step to me, anyway. I’m supposed to marry his only child someday, solidifying the link between our two infamous families. And then the Rossi-Monaghans will own the entire eastern seaboard—guns, drugs, forgeries, everything and anything illicit. The Calloways will be small-time then, and my father’s lifelong goal of crushing Jules’s clan will be achieved. The dickhead. I snatch my Guinness from the table and chug it, slam the empty glass down so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Ben, Merrick, and Elisa leave the bar first. I wait to steal one last glimpse of Jules, and it’s like she intuits that my attention is on her. She flashes me that brilliant smile. I smile back, not giving a shit who may be watching.

FIVE

JULES

I don’t think Rowan is the type to fall in love easily—or at all—but when she smiles at me like that, I second-guess that notion. And she did it with reckless disregard for the fact that Teague and Gino were observing her like a lab rat pumped full of a cure for cancer. Brave. Gross as it is, I hate to see her go but I love to watch her leave runs through my mind as she saunters out to the lobby after her not-quite-girlfriend. Rose leans in close to me and murmurs, “I know she’s the first woman you’ve really liked in a crazy long time, but careful with that longing in your eyes.” She motions a curt nod toward the bar.

I turn my attention to my overeager cousin and Gino. As if they’d have any understanding of what it looks like to be thirsted over by a woman. “Please. They’re big, dumb ruffians.”

She guffaws, and it tears Teague from whatever tedious conversation the men are in the middle of. He twists his lips at me, grabs his rocks glass from the bar and sidles over to our table, Gino a pace behind. He helps himself to a seat next to Shannon, gulps his whiskey, then asks, “Having fun?”

I was until you ruined it. “A gay ole time.”

Rose snorts, but hurries to cover her lips with her hand.

I’d like nothing more than to be rid of him and Gino. There is a chance, small as it might be, that I can make it happen. It’s worth trying. I can’t stand the constant babysitting since school finished for summer break. Going to Gonzaga was the best decision I’ve ever made—I’d have left the country if my father would’ve allowed it. But Washington State is far enough away from his messy business that he doesn’t feel I need protecting there. A sudden twinge of melancholy hits me square in the chest: Three weeks until I have to go back. I’d trade my freedom for her. I shake myself from the idea and concentrate on Gino. “Hey, Gino, you know we’re supposed to be having a girls’ night, right?” I sweep a hand across Rose and Shannon. “No offense, but you guys have all the wrong parts for that.”

“Seriously,” Shannon chimes in, “you’re ruining the vibe.”

Teague is the one who replies, annoyed. “Pretend we aren’t here.”

I sip my Malibu bay breeze through its orange plastic straw, then deadpan him. “Or you could actually not be here.” His face goes sour. I ignore him. “Come on, Gino, the Monaghans are gone, the big, scary threat has passed. You’ve done your job for the evening. Don’t you want to go home to your parents and little sis? You don’t get to spend enough time with them when I’m in town and I feel terrible about it.” That last part is not at all a manipulation tactic; I do hate keeping him from his family.

Rose, ever the dependable second, adds, “We promise we’re not going to leave the hotel. Hey!” She eyes me. “Let’s get a suite and stay the night.” To Gino, she says, “That way you’ll know where we are and one of you can come pick Jules up in the morning.”

I can see Gino considering it, until Teague opens his mouth. “Your father told us to ‘stick to you like shit on a shoe.’”

I know he isn’t going to be swayed by my natural sarcasm. I have to be more tactful. Complimentary. Men are such simple creatures; all they need is a little ego stroking. How pedestrian. I bat my eyes at him, sad and adoring. “All I want to do is sit here, gossip with my friends, and relax. It’s hurtful that you don’t trust me—you, the closest thing I have to a brother.”

At that, I watch him liquefy. He’s always seen me as a younger sister, something fragile he’s been charged with protecting. “You’re relentless, Juliet, you know that?” he sighs.

I beam at him. He’s going to let me have my way. “Yep.”

He pushes his chair back, stands, and palms Gino’s shoulder. “Right, twenty-two is old enough to be left on her own for a night.” He points at me. “Don’t rat me out.”

“Never.” I’m not stupid. We’d both be on the receiving end of Dad’s wrath if I breathed a word about it.

His lips crumple as if he’s doubting his decision. I deploy my puppy-dog pout. He sighs again.

“Night, ladies.” Gino gives us all a cordial head bow.

Once they’re gone, Rose throws her fist up for a bump. “Nice.”

Shannon goes, “Smooth as warm butter.”

---