Page 60 of The Enforcer's Revenge
Nova finally looked up from the stock market site on his phone and said, “What are we doing?”
“Shopping.”
“For what?” Nova gave him a look like he thought Tino was the one who had checked out.
“I’ve got an idea.”
Nova was silent as Tino parked and then said, “I’m gonna hate this idea, aren’t I?”
Tino didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, you’re definitely gonna hate it.”
Tino tookextra time on his hair, styling it a little higher than he normally would. Nova was so fucking disgusted he didn’t bother.
“At least use some gel,” Tino said as he looked at himself in the hotel mirror and spied Nova sitting on one of the beds behind him.
In response, Nova flipped him off without glancing up from his phone. “Here’s your gel.”
“You know,” Tino turned around, “it doesn’t look that bad. You’re dressed like one of those guys from Milan on fashion week.”
Nova looked up and arched a dark eyebrow in annoyance. “I’m wearing loafers with no socks. Don’t talk to me right now.”
“I have good taste, Casanova. If someone didn’t know anything about your job or what an introspective, cranky asshole you are, they would think that look is amazing on you. It works.” Tino turned back to the mirror and studied himself. “I look good too,” he decided as he admired himself in khaki pants, a dark blue blazer, and a white, open-collared shirt that he’d undone down to the third button. He straightened the crucifix he was wearing and couldn’t help but flinch at that. “I could do without this much jewelry. Reminds me of the Don, but the rest of it is very workable.”
“Valentino, if you start wearing high waters this fucking tight on a regular basis, I’m disowning you.”
“The pants don’t look bad,” Tino promised him. “And it doesn’t kill you to wear light colors. I would’ve given you the beige, but your waist is bigger than mine, and I need the jacket. I’m the one packing.”
Nova didn’t acknowledge him as he sat there on the edge of the bed, a light blue, micro-checkered collared shirt opened down to the third button to show off the crucifix around his neck that matched the one Tino was wearing. Nova’s thighs were spread in typical, macho Sicilian behavior, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at his phone. There weren’t many menwho could wear white pants like Nova had on and make them work, but his brother did.
The best lies were the ones closest to the truth.
Tino did have the thought of taking a picture of Nova in those pants to show Romeo and Carlo when they got home. It was a habit. It was what he would’ve done two days ago, and the second the thought popped into his head, Tino’s breath caught so violently that Nova noticed.
“What?” his brother asked sharply.
“Nothing.” Tino shook his head, feeling like the laughter was a million miles away and they’d never find it again. Instead, he said, “You’re really leaving your hair like that? You’re not gonna shave or anything?”
“Cazzo.” Nova threw his phone on the bed and stood. He looked at himself in the mirror, obviously annoyed, but still he decided, “Gimme the gel.”
Tino put the gel next to him. He set a new razor there, too. The shaving cream he used before he got in the shower and the bottle of cologne they bought at the outlet mall. Tino didn’t realize how much he needed to see real life in his brother again.
It felt cardinal to survival.
Yes, there was a war, but they’d survived everything else.
And yes, their zio was shattered, but once they got past this, they could help put Carlo back together—somehow.
There was no fix for losing Lola, but Tino was certain she wouldn’t have wanted this to break them. She’d want them to fight back. To stay strong, like she always did—no matter how badly life fucked with her.
Nova had taken off his shirt and started shaving. Tino couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief his brother probably noticed.
“I’m not using that merda.” Nova cast an annoyed glance at the cologne on the counter.
“You gotta wear it. Siciliani are supposed to smell good.”
“Thank you so much for informing me about how a Siciliano is supposed to behave. I had no idea,” Nova snapped at him. “The Clive Christian’s in my bag.”
“You packed your Clive Christian but forgot your razor?” Tino asked in disbelief, pissed off he didn’t know that because he would’ve used it too.
