DON’T LOOK DON’T LOOK DON’T LOOK!
It’s no use. I’ve done it anyway. I’ve looked.
My eyes (TRAITORS!) conduct a full scale sweep down Monte’s broad chest and stray lower. Either he’s stuffed a pair of socks down his shorts or something else is going on there. If those shorts would just spontaneously slide down about three inches I’d have the answer.
“Hey.” Monte snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Are you finished turning cartwheels in the dark or what?”
“I wasn’t turning cartwheels.” I move past him, snatch the shopping bag off the floor and extract the deck of playing cards.“But I apologize for disturbing the entire household. Why were you running in here with a gun? Did you think I was being attacked by the air conditioner?”
He swipes the gun off the table. “Habit. You scream. I get a gun.”
Next door, good times have resumed. Bedsprings creak. Livy’s voice moans, “Oh yeah, just like that. You really are the king.”
She should try to be more creative with her dirty talk. She keeps repeating herself.
Monte walks over to the adjoining wall and bangs on it with his fist. Livy must be arriving at a pivotal moment. The moaning simply grows louder.
“Where the hell are you going?” Monte says when he sees that I’m leaving the room.
“I’m thirsty and I want a glass of water. Am I allowed?”
He follows me down the hall to the tiny kitchen. I’m hyper aware that my ass says BIG APPLE BOOTY. This is not ideal.
Once I reach the kitchen I’m stuck because I have no idea where the glasses are kept or if any exist. For all I know, two strapping single brothers have no use for regular drinking glasses.
Monte opens the cabinet above the sink and pulls out a tall glass. He turns on the faucet and watches the water fill to the brim.
“Tap water?” I say and then realize I sound like a snob.
“Won’t kill you.” He drinks half the water to prove it before refilling and handing the glass over.
I get a pathetic thrill out of touching my lips to a glass that he just drank from. Monte leans his hip against the sink and crosses his arms over his chest. As I slowly sip the water, I watch him over the glass rim. There’s a faraway look in his eyes as he stares in the direction of the tall window that opens to the fire escape.
Monte hasn’t undergone any kind of metamorphosis over the past year. He’s essentially the same. And yet as I recall the grim set of his jaw when I asked about the bruise on his face, I can’t deny that the danger always smoldering within him is closer to the surface now. It doesn’t take much imagination to picture him among the brutal men who populated the world I was born to.
In theory, I despise the mafia. It’s a life of blood and vengeance with a steep body count. I’m deeply relieved both of my sisters have managed to extricate themselves. Daisy is married to a cheerful hamburger chef who has probably never held a gun. And although Annalisa’s marriage began as a mafia alliance, she and Luca are among the few who have successfully made an exit.
But as I stand here beside a man whose strong hands have surely committed violent acts that would make me shudder, I’m turned on anyway. Unpacking this will take some work.
I spill out the remaining water in the sink and set the empty glass on the counter. “Do you have anything stronger?”
His eyes cut back to me. “There’s some Coke in the fridge. Help yourself.”
“Caffeine is the last thing I need right now. I’m already having trouble sleeping.”
Monte snorts. “Maybe you shouldn’t have devoured so much chocolate today.”
“I devoured the proper amount of chocolate.”
“Proper for what, a Christmas elf?”
“Why do you have to be so contrary? Are you willing to share your alcohol stockpile or not?”
“I’m fresh out of box wine and mimosas. I doubt you could tolerate anything stronger.”
“As if you’ve ever been an expert on my tolerance levels.”
Monte shrewdly rakes his eyes over me before foraging in another cabinet. He unscrews a large rectangular bottle. “Afriend of my dad’s owns a whiskey distillery in Tennessee. The guy sent a whole case of this shit a few months back. I don’t want to hear any complaints when it burns your tits off.”