Page 37 of Sins of the Orchid
If the roaming Venezuelans would have caught them…
I couldn’t think about that shit. It would send me off the edge.
“Amore, where is DeAngelo?”
Amore giggled, unbuttoning her white blouse and fanning herself. I grabbed her slim fingers to stop her from opening any more buttons. Her fucking bra already peeked through the top. Fucking Bennetti was going to kill everyone, and then I’d have to kill him. All because of these two damn idiots.
“We lost him.” She chuckled drunkenly.
“Lost him?”
She waved her hand away, swaying on her feet. Her hands fidgeted and she resumed unbuttoning her blouse before I stopped her again.
“Tell me what happened,” I ordered her.
“We drove,” she slurred. Then her smile turned to a frown, and she turned her big, emerald eyes to me. Like I was her savior, though I wasn’t sure from what. “I scratched Dad’s car,” she sniffled.Ahhh, there it was!“It’s the last time.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and I recalled the similar gesture from our first meeting. “Dad said three strikes, you’re out. Except this is like the twentieth or so. I don’t even like baseball.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. Damn, she was wasted.
“Why didn't you go get ice cream? That always makes you feel better.” They would have fared better if they got ice cream rather than alcohol.
“Ice cream can’t console me, Santi,” she muttered, swaying on her feet. “I’m never going to learn how to drive. Maybe I need two men to teach me.” She sniffed again. “Like Mom.” Then she shook her head. “I just don’t get it.”
I still remembered the shock on her face upon hearing my father’s admission. I didn’t necessarily agree that it was wise to tell Amore, but in his old age, Papà wanted to right all the wrongs he had done. I guess it was his way of coming to terms with death. He had another twenty years to go at least, but just like the old Bennetti, he had grown softer in his old age.
“What was the competition about?” I asked instead of commenting on her mother. It was better she forgot about that.
Adriano shrugged. “If she can get to the top of the pole, we’d sneak into your garage and fix the dent.”
“I thought it was a scratch?” I questioned them. I didn’t know why I bothered. They were both drunk as shit, and the only thing they would be doing was damaging the car even more. Or worse, my garage.
“There is a scratch and a dent,” she murmured, tears glistening in the cool moss of her gaze.
“And when did you come up with that idea?” I asked them both. “After a bottle of tequila?”
Adriano wrinkled his nose. “I drank bourbon. Amore had tequila. We only had a bottle.”
I should beat my little brother for being so damn stupid. I’d bet money he drove drunk too, and with Amore Bennetti in the front seat of his car. He would get her killed one of these days, if her father or I didn’t shoot him first.
“I really like your garage, Santi,” she announced, smiling. The way her brain worked was a mystery to me.
She started fanning herself again and attempted to open another button. I gently smacked her fingers.
“Ouch, fucker,” she muttered, and I raised my eyebrow at her foul language. I have never heard her curse before. She was too drunk to realize what she had called me. “It is so hot in here, Santino,” she complained. “You have to pay the electric bill and put some air in here. The ladies will sue you when they die of heat stroke.” She bent over, putting her hands on her knees. She was too drunk to reason with, but the strippers preferred it warmer since they danced with little to no clothes on. Swaying on her legs, she came forward and rested her forehead against my chest. “I’m getting heat stroke. Jesus, it is way too hot.”
Renzo smirked and choked out a laugh but quickly covered it with his hand when my darkened gaze glared at him. His hand came up to his face, pretending to be scratching his chin and clearing his throat.
“Who gave you alcohol?” I questioned.
Never changing her position, Amore lifted her head from my chest, watching me like I was a God. There were stars in her eyes. She thought she hid it, but she was bad at hiding her emotions, her misplaced flirtation with me.
It was the reason I kept my distance. I wasn’t about to encourage the kid's fantasies. Okay, maybe she wasn’t a kid anymore, but she sure as hell wasn’t a woman. Then she surprised me, grinning wide with trouble written all over her face.
“Daddy had it in the back of his car. We had to check they didn’t crack, you know.”
This time Renzo threw his head back and laughed while I glared at him. This was the last thing I needed tonight. I still had a shit ton of work to get done.
She swayed forward again, her head bumping into my stomach. My hands came to her shoulders to steady her, and she raised her hands to my hips, clutching my Brioni suit. Freaking girl was ready to fall over. It was like watching a baby roll over because they were still too young to support themselves while sitting.
