Page 42 of Veil of Obsession
I drag my gaze up to him, slow and unimpressed.
“Your babysitter’s here.”
I push off the bench, stretching my arms above my head before following him out. The cops behind the desk avoid my stare, focused on their paperwork, pretending they don’t know exactly who I am.
They know. And more importantly, they know where I belong.
The front doors slide open, and Romiro is waiting by the curb, leaning against the hood of his car, arms crossed over his chest. His suit is clean, crisp, not a single wrinkle despite the early hour.
I smirk, stepping out into the morning air. “Miss me?”
He doesn’t look amused.
“Get in the car,” he says flatly, pushing off the hood.
I chuckle, but don’t argue, yanking open the passenger door and sliding in. The moment Romiro gets behind the wheel, he pulls out, tires rolling smoothly over the damp pavement. The silence stretches for a beat before he finally exhales through his nose.
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
I smirk, stretching out in the seat and resting my arm against the window. “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”
“You ran three red lights, got into it with a cop, and ended up in a holding cell like some reckless asshole off the street.”
I tilt my head slightly. “Is that not what I am?”
Romiro shoots me a look, unimpressed.
“You’re lucky the Camorra has the police chief and most of the NYPD in our pocket,” he mutters, his hands tight on the wheel. “Otherwise you’d be rotting in there for a few weeks instead of getting a slap on the wrist.”
I huff a quiet laugh, rubbing my jaw. “I wasn’t worried.”
“No, you never fucking are. That’s the problem.”
We speed past blocks of New York’s early morning chaos—taxis honking, businessmen rushing down sidewalks, steam rising from the grates.
Romiro rolls his shoulders like he’s shaking off the irritation, then exhales slowly. “Get your shit together.”
I arch a brow. “You sound like Eli.”
He shoots me another look. “I sound like someone who doesn’t want to deal with your messes.”
I grin. “Same thing.”
He exhales sharply, gripping the wheel tighter like he’s resisting the urge to throw me out of the car. We pull up to my apartment building. Romiro doesn’t put the car in park, just lets it idle as I push open the door.
Before I step out, he glances over. “Get cleaned up. We’re all meeting at the fight club later.”
I fake pout. “But I need my beauty sleep. You know, gotta keep up this pretty face.”
Romiro shakes his head, not the least bit amused. “Just be there, asshole.”
I pause, rolling my neck. “Anything interesting going down?”
He smirks slightly. “Maybe. If you keep your shit together long enough to make it there.”
I chuckle, stepping out and slamming the door shut. Romiro pulls away without another word, disappearing down the street. I stand there for a second, watching the city move around me. Then, without another thought, I head inside.
Time to clean up. Time to see what the day has in store.
