Page 67 of Dirty Big Sins

“Oh trust me. I understand more than you know what it’s like to do without. It’s one of the reasons I have taken some painstaking care to save and invest in ventures that I knew would pay off. Not unlike yourself. Two restaurants and a television show are nothing to shirk at.”

That got him a snort. “A failed television show, a restaurant I had to sell to invest in the other, and that one on the brink of failure before it has even opened. Big big difference.”

“I know you have more faith than that. Zia’s Kitchen is going to be a huge hit, you wait and see.”

“From your mouth.” I raised my glass to toast his words as if that would somehow make them true. He was right. I hadn’t given up yet, but my realistic side sat on my shoulder like the little devil that was trying to fill me with doubts. “So you didn’t have money growing up?”

“My stepfather did okay as a software engineer. For many years I didn’t have to worry about food in my mouth or clothes on my back. But after my mother left, things went downhill pretty fast. His narcissism got worse as did his bitterness. He went from a functional alcoholic to a shitty drunk in a matter of months. After that I’m not sure what he did with his money, but he sure as hell didn’t spend it in a grocery store or a mall.”

This was the first time he’d opened up in a while about his upbringing and I wanted to hear it all. The rumors around his stepfather’s death were brutal and I ached to know the real Vincent. Whatever that happened to be.

“What did you do? Weren’t you really young?”

He nodded. “Young enough. I did the best I could and found a job at Bennie’s gym. I guess he took pity on me because I was scrawny and skinny, but determined as hell.”

“That’s the trainer you still work with, right?” I reached for the platter of meats and cheeses that had just been served and stacked a few together onto my plate.

“I have more than one, but yes, Bennie is still as involved in my career as ever. Although I think he’s as anxious for me to retire as I am. He’s always reminding me that I’ve made him more money than he can spend in the rest of his lifetime and he wants to enjoy it in a way that working in a boxing gym every day simply doesn’t allow. Although the bastard could walk away anytime, but he refuses to leave me.”

I could hear the love in those words and they melted my heart. I could imagine how decades of loyalty and love would have forged an unbreakable bond between them. And thanks to my grandmother’s special touch, I understood that bond more than he could know.

But I couldn’t let this opportunity slip by. If I was going to keep falling as fast as I’d been falling, I had to know what kind of man I wanted to love. Wanted. I almost choked on that word. I was kidding myself if I thought I could turn it off and on as simple as a want. If he had truly murdered his stepfather, my heart would be broken, but that didn’t mean the feelings would die.

“What about your stepfather?” The question came out barely audible, but from the look in his eyes and the sudden stiffening of his posture, he’d heard me loud and clear.

“I left his body in the middle of the fucking desert so the vultures could pick him slowly apart.”

The vitriol in that statement took my breath away and the fork I’d picked up clattered onto my plate when I dropped it.

“I—uhh…” Didn’t know what the hell to say. He’d basically admitted to murder.

“Don’t.” I could see he didn’t want to talk about it, but that box, like Pandora’s, had been opened and it couldn’t simply be put away like it didn’t happen.

“Why?”

He sat back in his chair and simply stared at me. For so long I started to squirm. I couldn’t take the silent glare any longer, but neither could I change the subject.

“I don’t know if you need to tell someone about it or not, but I need to know. Vincent, this is too important.”

“Why?” This time he asked the million-dollar question and I realized first-hand how hard it could be to make the words cross my lips. “Because we’re fucking?”

I literally jerked at those three hateful sounding words. “Screw you,” I said. “I get that this is uncomfortable and impossibly hard, but that doesn’t mean you have to resort to being a dick.”

He sighed and reached for my hand. I tried to pull it away, but he caught it and held it prisoner. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Zia. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You’re damn right I didn’t. And if you had let me answer the first question, I could have told you that if the man I’m falling in love with has committed murder, then I need to know and know why. Which is not just about fucking, thank you very much.”

“You’re falling in love with me?”

That question was so full of earnest surprise it made my heart stop for a beat and then stutter back to life.Damn him. What was I supposed to say now? I wasn’t ready for that to come out yet. Not when I wasn’t sure what his feelings were.

Crap.

Crap.

Crap.

“I did it because he deserved it.” Those hard punching words sliced through my internal tirade like a knife through soft butter. Swift and to the point, cutting off all of my other thoughts. But new questions were beginning to form and I had to bite my tongue to keep from peppering him with them. This was his story and I needed to give him the space to tell it.

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