Page 102 of Handsome Devil
“Very well. How about you and Annette?”
The limo slid into the heavy Manhattan traffic, driving at a snail’s pace.
“Better than ever. Got her hip replacement last week. Healing smoothly. Sorry to hear about your mother—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Tate puffed on his cigar, sending a rancid cloud of smoke to the space between us. “Nobody really cares. She’s just being nice.”
Silence blanketed the interior of the car. Each of us sat in an opposite corner of the back seat. I stared out the window, wondering if he would take me here, in front of Thierry, with the partition open just to humiliate me. He wouldn’t have to take me by force.
Deep down, I knew I’d let him.
Deep down, I knew I turned into a very different person where Tate was concerned. He seemed to pry the darkest, most nefarious parts of me out into the light.
And Ilovedit. All of it. Even the toxicity.
Every second that passed on our way to Cal and Row’s Fifth Avenue building had the knot in my stomach twist harder until it pressed against my sternum.
We stopped outside their building, and that was when I noticed Tate had his phone angled toward his window with the camera app on, facing him.
“Would you like me to call Cal and tell her—”
“We’ll go upstairs,” he cut into my words.
I squinted. “Why?”
“We’re being followed.”
I didn’t have to ask by whom. I ducked my head, trying to follow his line of vision, but I didn’t have a good angle.
“And you want us to go upstairs, where we might endanger our friends? Theirdaughter?” I asked incredulously.
“There are rules to abide by in the underworld. Certain codes.” He clasped my elbow. His eyes, cold and empty, dug into my flesh like a metal knife. “They won’t hurt an innocent family. The Casablancas will protectus, but we won’t endangerthem.”
He got out of the limo first, shielding me with his body as we slipped into the building. We took the stairs up, him following closely behind me, glancing down every few seconds.
Cold sweat settled over my forehead. I stumbled over the fabric of my dress, reaching to the wall of the darkened corridor. Finally, we reached their door. Tate rapped on it three times.
Row opened, surprise pleating his forehead. “What’s up? Thought we’re going to meet downst—”
Tate shoved past him, tugging me to his side. He strode over to the living room window.
I winced apologetically. “Sorry. We’re being followed by Irish mobsters.”
“Oookay, I’m gonna need a little more context than that.” Row double locked the door and pulled on the latch. “Which one of us is calling the cops?”
“No one. I’ve got it handled,” Tate said calmly. “They were bound to try tonight. Enzo and his soldiers are off for the engagement party.”
“You brought mobsters to my doorstep?” Row blinked. “While my daughter and wife are in the other room?” He looked ready to kill my husband. I was almost certain I was going to help him if he tried.
“They won’t come in here. You and your family are under Ferrante protection. You’re innocent. They’re not that dumb.”
“Maybe, butyouare.” Row looked around us, sticking a hand into his tousled jet-black hair and messing it further. “Jesusfucking Christ, Tate. I mean, your ass is more disposable than a soiled diaper, but what about Gia?”
“Hi guys! Thanks for giving us a ride.” Cal appeared from the hallway, heels clicking as she put an earring on. “Serafina’s nanny just arrived, but we still need to go through her evening routine together.”
Tate ignored her, hiking over to the kitchen and returning to the window with a butcher block. “Is this the eight-pound block you used for that Netflix special?”
“Yeah.” Row rubbed the back of his neck. “Wh—”
