Page 71 of Thorns of Blood
“Jesus Christ,” Romeo muttered. “It’s a good thing I haven’t eaten yet or I’d puke it all up right now.”
Giovanni ignored him and pulled out a seat for me.
“Don’t mind Romeo,” he said, pecking me on the cheek as I took the offered chair. “He’s just jealous because he doesn’t have a dance partner.”
“We could always kidnap a girl for him,” I offered jokingly.
Romeo smirked. “I knew I liked her.”
“Despite the fact I almost killed you?”
He shrugged dismissively. “Meh. It’s just a scratch.”
I smiled incredulously. “Good to know you’re so forgiving.”
He waved his hand. “I don’t ask for much. Just women, booze, baseball and”—he glared at Giovanni—“food. I’m starving.”
“Don’t start whining or I’ll make you wait until we get to Key West to eat.”
“We’re going to Key West?” I asked, surprised.
Giovanni turned back to the stove and resumed cooking before he answered. “We are, and I have a little surprise for you.”
Before I could ask, Romeo chimed in, “Oh, do tell. I love surprises.”
“The surprise is for my wife,” Giovanni answered, grinning. “You, Romeo, will watch the boat for us.”
He grunted, but my skin heated as something in my chest tightened and my pulse beat a little quicker.
Was this how my sister felt with Kingston? I never understood their connection, but I was slowly starting to.
It’d been almost a month since I’d been taken from Venezuela, but it felt like a whole lifetime ago. I glanced at my brother-in-law, who divided his time between Giovanni and staring at something on his phone.
The two started to discuss sports and business when Romeo jumped to his feet.
“Shit, where are my manners? I didn’t even offer you coffee.” He went to stand in front of the fancy coffee machine,maneuvering it until it produced a full cup, then brought it to me.
“One sugar or two?” I shook my head and his eyes widened. “What? How’re you that sweet without sugar?”
“Don’t flirt with my wife, stronzo,” Giovanni warned as he set the table. I debated helping, but the kitchen wasn’t exactly my area of expertise. I could shoot to kill, but not set the table. I could stab a person precisely enough they’d bleed out slowly and painfully, but I couldn’t even boil water properly.
I lowered my eyes and my gaze caught on my missing pinky. They blurred with tears and I blinked furiously, willing them to go away.
Suddenly, a big hand covered mine, the missing finger hidden from my sight.
I couldn’t fall apart now. Not here. Not in front of Giovanni again. Not in front of Romeo.
Unable to find my voice, I let silence dominate the room. The scratch of the chair against the floorboards, the footsteps fading away, until all I could hear was Giovanni’s and my breaths.
“You okay?” I squeezed my eyes shut, but then he cupped my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb as he lifted my head to see my eyes. “Talk to me.”
“It’s stupid,” I choked.
“If it’s upsetting you, it’s not. Is it Romeo?” I shook my head. “You don’t want to go to Key West?”
“I do.”
My vision blurred at the edges and I silently cursed the stupid emotions. I wasn’t a crier; I was a fighter. Maybe I hadn’t shed enough tears in my lifetime and now it was catching up to me.
