Page 11 of Bulletproof Baby

However, even with a parking permit, I'm still a few blocks away from the apartment. After shooting Frankie a text to help me bring up the bags, he comes down to greet me shirtless, in sweatpants, bare feet in slides, and his curly black hair damp.

The glares of the people eyeing him as he throws his arms around me make me uncomfortable. But these people don't know we're family. He practically crushes me under his muscular hold, causing me to tap him on the shoulder to put me down.

"You look fantastic, Lia. Girl, what have you been up to?" he asks, taking the box of pastries from me.

I laugh, feeling more bashful than normal and wondering how much I want to tell him. "Letting the Bonetti Brothers work me to the bone as usual. But what are you talking about, 'I look fantastic'? Look at you! When did you get ripped? We used to be such good chunky buddies. Hence, the pastries. That's what I thought you meant when you said, 'bring food.'"

"Now, we're a couple of baddies. And I still eat, Lia. Come on. A pastry is fine as long as I have a stupid amount of sex to burn it off. Kind of like last night." He laughs as he pushes against a door beside the storefront window of a florist shop.

Frankie's apartment is a rent-controlled two-bedroom that he inherited from our grandmother. It's above a florist for now, but in a few years, that business will undoubtedly change to something else. A lot of things come and go in New York, but a rent-controlled apartment is forever.

Once we're inside, the living room and kitchen take up a small amount of space in the front. Light brown parquet floors creak under my feet, reminding me of the sounds from my childhood. Touches of Nonna are everywhere, from her oven mitts with vine tomato designs to her matching hand-painted olive oil bottles.

The L-shaped apartment brings back a flood of memories from our childhood. Frankie's room is at one end to the right of the open kitchen and living room. Nonna's old room was straight ahead from the front door. It makes me smile knowing my mother grew up here, long before she was a Bonetti. However, the feeling is fleeting as she's partly the reason why I'm in my current situation.

There's enough room that lets us plop down on the sofa and set up our breakfast of coffee and croissants. Frankie tosses his hair over his shoulder as he digs in but stops once he sees I'm not enjoying the food alongside him.

"What's really going on, Lia? Remember how well I still know you."

I pause, looking around to see if anyone else is in the apartment. "Is the person you burned all those calories with here?"

"Jake will sleep through a hurricane and a tsunami, but luckily for us, when you called, he took the hint to go sleep in his own bed, in his own apartment. So go ahead, spill it. What happened?"

"I finally lost my virginity," I tell him and pause, waiting for his reaction, but there isn't any.

Frankie's hair sits right at his shoulders, with half of it tucked behind his ear. The softness of his gray eyes against his angular clean-cut face makes him the perfect model type for a cologne campaign. His flamboyant nature and nurturing demeanor toward people he cares about speak volumes. After everything he's been through, he doesn't have to be a delightful person. But he is, and I know he's waiting for me to tell him if losing my virginity is a good thing or something to worry about.

"I liked it. Loved it, in fact." I admit with flashes of Valentino bringing me to multiple orgasms over the weekend.

"Good. A great first experience is way better than a horrible one." He sighs and takes a sip of his coffee. "So, who was it?"

"Don Valentino Barrone."

"Wait a minute. Are we talking about the same Valentino Barrone who caused an uproar a few years ago because he made the list of richest businessmen in America and people assumed it was from his La Familia connections?"

"Yeah."

"How and when did you cross paths with him?"

A part of me wants to lie, but I need to tell someone without any skin in the game what's happening. I need someone on my side because I feel alone from every angle of this shit show. Still, I don't want Frankie to judge me or to be upset with his aunt and uncle for putting me in this situation to begin with. If I open this can of worms, I'll have to tell him all of it because I don't think I can lie to him about any of it.

Fuck.

However, before I can get into the details, three loud knocks on his door force us both to snap our faces toward it.

"Are you expecting anyone else?" I ask him.

Frankie pushes himself off the sofa to answer it and when he looks through the peephole, I hear him muttering under his breath. "Holy fucking shit. Speak of the devil."

Frankie opens the door to reveal Don Valentino himself on the other side, and he's pissed.

6

VALENTINO

Mine.

Control.

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