Page 68 of Assassin's Obsession

Is that a real question? The look on her face says it is.

"I will never tell you that. You are always beautiful to me. You could shave your head, dress in trash bags, and I would still think you're beautiful." I hope she doesn't shave her head though.

Her hair is a curtain of dark silk that I itch to take my gloves off and run my fingers through. Maybe when she's got less of other people's sweat and germs from the alley in it.

"Yeah. No. Not about to wear a trash bag like a rain poncho."

Endlessly intrigued by her, I ask, "Did someone make you do that?"

"My mom didn'tmakeme. She did it to keep me dry. When there's no money for a raincoat, a trash bag with holes cut for your neck and arms works."

She and her mom lived in poverty while her father, the capo, lived a life of luxury with the family he acknowledged. I really want to kill Stefano Bianchi.

"Anyway, I've been growing my hair out since I moved in with mom and Cookie and I'm not about to cut it off now."

She must get it trimmed though because when her luxurious hair isn't tangled up around her head, it reaches just past the middle of her back. It would cover her ass if she'd been growing it that long and never trimmed it.

Besides, it always looks smooth and healthy. I wonder if one of the other girls cuts it for her. Candi doesn't spend money on herself if she can help it.

That's something that's going to change. She will never have to do without so her mom and sister have what they need again. I will make sure theyallhave everything they want now that they are my family too.

"Why since then?" Every little thing about Candi fascinates me.

"Mom was the first foster parent who didn't force me to cut it to make it easier to manage." Candi makes air quotes when she sayseasier to manage. "There is no way I'm cutting it unless I don't have a choice."

"You will always have a choice." I'll make sure of it.

She grimaces. "Do you have a brush, or something?"

I point toward the side of the vanity that is hers. "Check in there."

Eager to see her response to my attempt to get her all the same things she has at home, but better when I can, I watch as she pulls open the top drawer. The breath exhales from her mouth in a small gasp when she sees what's inside.

Beautiful brown eyes gleaming with interest, she opens one of the eye shadow palettes. "It's never been used."

"Of course not. It's yours." I can't help brushing her hair back from her shoulder just to touch her. "I know you like that brand. But you hardly ever buy it."

"That's because it's so expensive." She stares up at me, her expression disbelieving. "All of this is for me?"

"Everything on that side of the vanity is for you."

She swallows. "Okay, not addressing that right now."

She opens the drawer below and gasps again, this time a little louder. That drawer is filled with the things she needs to style her hair. High-end versions of her favorite hair products, along with the best blow dryer and straightener on the market.

I consulted with one of the top hair stylists in New York. His receptionist tried to tell me I couldn't get an appointment for at least six months. Once we got that straightened out, he was happy to consult with me on what to get Candi.

Or, you know, happy to keep the fingers he needed to keep doing his job. He even offered to cut my hair.

But I don't let people touch me that I don't know.

That might be a problem. Not for me, but I don't want people to touch Candi that I haven't vetted either. What if she wants to go to a hairstylist? Or get a massage?

Hard no on that one. Even if it's a woman.

Maybe I should watch some YouTube videos on how to do it.

All of the potential situations that might necessitate Candi being touched by a stranger land hard, one on top of the other. Doctors appointments. Getting blood drawn.

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