Page 16 of Devious Kingpin
I used the bathroom next, and when I exited the stall, Autumn stood at the sink, washing her hands.
“Hey,” she said, her smiling eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
We stood side by side at the sink when, for no good reason, I asked, “How did you survive those months in Afghanistan?” She raised a brow, probably not expecting a question like that. “Sorry,” I added. “Not even sure where that came from.”
She smiled softly. I didn’t really know her and I think our invite came only thanks to our connection to the DiLustros.
“Kian.”
I frowned. “Huh?”
“There was a guy there with his men, he protected me. His name was Kian. He has a security agency, I think it’s pretty ‘exclusive,’ if you know what I mean. He could track anyone and anything. People out there know him, he has a really good track record for keeping people safe.”
“Hmm.”
She tilted her head, studying me. “Please tell me you’re not thinking about going to Afghanistan.”
I scoffed lightly. “No.”
“Look, I’ll give you his contact information. Whatever you’re planning, at least he’ll keep you safe.”
And that was how myrelationshipwith Kian started.
CHAPTER9
Dante
It had been months since Alessio’s wedding to his woman. Months since my cousin’s wedding to Wynter.
Months since that spitfire cousin of hers, my future bride, destroyed my grandfather’s priceless antique car. My jaw clenched at the memory. I loved that car. Unfortunately for me, I loved the woman who took a bat to it and then drew a penis on it with her lipstick even more.
Healthy? Fuck, no. I seriously considered seeing a goddamn therapist.
Especially now as I watched her across the street sitting at the tiny table—why did the fucking cafe have such small tables—for their guests. It was a cafe, not speed dating. Although I wouldn’t mind this dude rotating right along. Ten minutes were up, asshole. It took all of my control not to storm in there and drag her ass out of it.
My chest twisted and aversion slithered through my veins. Instead of dragging her ass, maybe I should just kill him. That would be a more permanent solution.ThenI’d drag her ass out of there. I didn’t care about witnesses. I didn’t care about the consequences.
The only thing that was louder than my need for her was the need to kill this fucker who was now smiling at her. It wasn’t even a sweet smile. It was condescending. Like he knew something about her that I didn’t.
Zooming in from my spot across the street, I snapped a picture and sent it to Nico Morrelli. He ran Maryland, D.C., and Virginia. The guy was a tech whiz and could dig just about anything up. Usually I would just send it to Priest, but he’d jerk my chain for months afterward.
*Need a name. Price is not an issue.*
It had been exactly one hundred sixty-four days, twelve hours, and—I glanced at the clock—thirty-eight minutes since Juliette and I crossed paths. At Alessio Russo’s wedding. It was the last time I touched her soft skin. And fuck, I had never met a woman with such smooth and soft skin. I could ask her father for her hand in marriage again but being rejected twice was my limit.
Besides, she might take her anger out on another one of my vehicles. My grandfather’s car was still suffering the damages of her outburst when I asked Liam the last time. That girl was hotheaded.
Bottom line, Juliette had been avoiding me for months now. Considering Davina’s words of advice, I attempted to give her space, so I wouldn’t push her away. But my patience was waning. I couldn’t wait anymore—I missed her the way the desert missed the rain. The way the moon missed the sun. All I had been doing was thinking about her. It was absurd, the girl had hardly given me the time of day.
Talk about the ironies of life. But I was a persistent man unfamiliar with the concept of giving up.
When Basilio said Juliette was in New York—declaring his annoyance—I rushed to the Big Apple. I’d been tailing her since my plane landed, following closely as she walked the streets aimlessly, right before she stopped in front of this coffee shop. She’d just stood facing the “Welcome” sign for a few moments, as if crossing the threshold of that cafe would change her life forever.
It actually reminded me of that evening right before Christmas so many years ago. The little girl, aged twelve, maybe thirteen, pressing her face against the Tiffany store window. She was all grown up now. It was impossible to forget those eyes. They weren’t a normal blue. More like the shimmering surface of the Ionian Sea. The one I swam in during my one amazing trip to Greece. I hadn’t seen eyes that color since.
I wondered if she knew that the boy who’d saved her that day was me. Would it make a difference if she did? Seemed like fate had been throwing us together for a long time, if you asked me.
We must have come full circle because now it was me with my face pressed up against a window on the streets of New York City, trying to catch a glimpse of those blue eyes once more.
