Page 27 of Vicious Addictions

My father sees it, too.

He’s grown fond of Jude. Not just because Jude is good at what he does but because of how he treats me. My father hasn’t come out directly and said it to me yet, but I know he’s very aware of my feelings for his protégé. He knows they have evolved from a teenage crush into something… more.

Having said that, I have no doubt that if my father thought, for even a second, that Jude was manipulating me in any way, he wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his head—Romano heir or not.

But he hasn’t.

Because Jude is respectful.

Because Jude is different.

The twins, however, aren’t as convinced. But then again, trust isn’t exactly in their nature.

I genuinely wish the twins could see Jude the way I do. It would make my life so much easier if they could give him a chance and get along with him. Unfortunately, outside of each other, the only person they seem to have room for in their black hearts is me, which doesn’t bode well for Jude.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I only notice that mass has ended when I feel a light poke at my side.

“You haven’t fallen asleep on me, have you?”

I blink up at Jude, still caught in my daydream.

“Not for lack of trying. Though Father O’Toole sure didn’t make it easy to stay awake,” I grumble, standing from the pew.

He laughs at my sass, and the melodic sound makes sitting through Father O’Toole’s fire-and-brimstone rants worthwhile.

“Are you okay waiting for me a little while longer so I can make a confession?”

The instinct to roll my eyes is strong, but I resist. The last thing I want to do is be disrespectful and make fun of something that clearly matters to him.

“Of course,” I say with a bright grin. “Though I still don’t understand why a guy who works for my father thinks it’s a good idea to confess anything to a total stranger. What if the priest talks?”

“That’s where the whole confidentiality thing comes into play. Priests can’t repeat what they hear in a confessional.” Jude winks.

“Are you sure about that?” I ask, suddenly uneasy.

Jude leans in until our faces are just a hairsbreadth apart.

“Father O’Toole knows exactly what my father does for a living, Mina. Do you really think he’d risk saying anything when his own life is on the line?”

“Your father is a long way from here, cowboy.”

He then pulls back slightly, leaning toward my ear, his voice dropping to a playful murmur.

“Mine might be, but yours isn’t.” He winks before pressing a quick kiss to my temple, then turns and strides off in search of Father O’Toole.

And just like that, he’s gone.

That’s all I ever get. A hug here, a kiss on the forehead there. If I’m really lucky, he’ll hold my hand when we take our afternoon walks through the garden.

Yep, I’m one lucky girl.

Not.

Sometimes, I get so frustrated that I feel like grabbing him by the collar and demanding that he kiss me already. But if I did that, I’d spook him.

Jude is a criminal with a conscience.

No way would he take advantage of a seventeen-year-old girl—especially when that girl happens to be the only daughter of the man who made a home for him here.

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