Page 28 of Sins of the Orchid
“I’m never too busy for my girl,” he drawled.
“Well, I’m glad you said that, Russo, because I’m here to collect. Time to pay up and with interest!”
Mr. Russo and Adriano both threw their heads back and laughed.
“Collect what?” I whipped around and my cheeks instantly blushed at seeing Santi. He appeared at my back, wearing a three piece with a gun holster clearly visible. My heartbeat sped up like a rollercoaster. Crushing on boys was such an inconvenience, but I couldn’t stop it with Santi any more than I could stop breathing.
Of course, he was nowhere to be seen when I dressed up cute, but today, when Uncle Vincent brought me straight from school, Santi would be here. I wore my school uniform with my skirt that came to mid-thigh, leaving my legs bare. I tied my white blouse into a knot, leaving a glimpse of my belly exposed. It was May and another one of those warm spring days.
His gaze studied me, clinically, like a big brother, disapproval in his eyes. Yes, my school uniform skirt was shorter than it should be, but I looked cute. At least I thought so until right now. Now I felt like a kid that attempted to dress up and failed miserably.
God, I was dying for him to see me like a woman.
It had been a while since I had seen Santi. Somehow we kept passing each other, though usually each time I visited the Russo residence, I was stupidly dressing nice in the hopes that I’d see him. I loved nice clothes and most of it I designed myself, but I never had self-doubt until I dressed in hopes of impressing Santi. Then I doubted every piece of clothing.
I collected myself and forced a calming breath.
“He owes me a driving lesson,” I announced, hiding my crush behind a wide smile. “I need another two weeks’ worth of hours.”
I was late in getting a driver's license. Initially, I wasn’t overly pressed. Plus, I had a slight phobia of driving. After all, I had crashed and dinged a good number of vehicles. Just thinking about getting behind the wheel had me breaking into a sweat, but I had to bite the bullet. I was dealing with a lot of things head-on lately.
Working out a plan with DeAngelo’s help to find my mother’s killers.
Finishing high school.
College.
Learning to drive.
The latter one, I did begrudgingly.
Adriano groaned. “Jesus, I was hoping you’d forget.”
Spending this last school year without Adriano, I realized how much I was lacking in my independence. It sucked to depend on others for a ride. So, I finally bit the bullet and started the process of getting a license. Hopefully, without destroying any more vehicles.
“Not this time, Russo,” I teased him.
“Let me go get my helmet,” Adriano half-joked, and I smacked him playfully. “I want to survive to graduate college. It was the whole purpose of getting you to help me with my assignments,” he grumbled.
He was at NYU and in his last year. I hoped to go to NYU too, but a better opportunity came up. I’d study in Italy and work in one of Grandma’s offices in Milan. The plan was to leave for Italy after the summer. Grandma and Dad agreed on one more thing, miracles of all miracles. I would live in Milan, and I honestly couldn’t wait. Vincent and Lorenzo were coming with me. DeAngelo too.
“You didn’t really need my help,” I told him. “Now stop stalling, go get your stupid helmet, and let’s go. I’m not getting any younger, and my driver’s license is within my grasp.”
Mr. Russo chuckled. “You heard the girl, Adriano.”
“You should wait another year before you start driving,” Adriano recommended with a smirk on his face. “You shouldn’t drive in Italy, and you’ll be out of practice when you get back home.”
“Italy, huh?” Santi asked, crossing his strong arms and leaning against the doorframe.
Ah, he was the perfect Italian.
“Yep. End of the summer.” I grinned happily. “I can’t wait.”
I could see the outline of his muscles under his fine clothing and my pulse skyrocketed. I wanted to see Santi in a bathing suit so desperately. I could only imagine how strong his body was underneath that three-piece suit, that olive skin covering his ripped abs. He was every girls’ wet dream.
I groaned silently, mentally scolding myself. These hormones were killing me slowly and sweetly. My imagination fed my poisonous dreams.
At twenty-six, Santi had the world and women at his feet. I was nothing but a kid with a snotty nose to him.
