Page 44 of Carnal

Amusement fills his expression. "I'll remember to add some extra desperation in my plea the next time I need your assistance."

I laugh, teasing, "That might give me extra motivation to put your project ahead of Dante's."

His face turns serious. "Okay, so what about Dante? Don't you wish you could call the shots sometimes?"

I bite on my smile and stroke the side of his head.

"Why aren't you answering?" he asks.

"Nine times out of ten, I do call them. Sometimes it sucks—like when all of you gang up on me."

"We don't gang up on you," he claims.

I huff. "Really? What would you call the meeting at your house on Saturday morning?"

His face darkens. "Protecting you. That isn't the same thing."

I roll my eyes. "I guess we'll have to agree to disagree."

"Pina—"

"I don't want to hear your excuses, Tristano. It is what it is, but that isn't the majority of my day. And I think if you try to focus on the things you're in charge of, you'll realize how much power you have independent of your brothers." I push out of his grasp, adding, "I need to get ready so I'm not late."

He stays quiet, watching me put on my makeup. After a few minutes, he pats me on the ass and leaves the bathroom.

I finish my makeup, put my hair in a messy bun, then go into my closet. I put on a black dress, a hot-pink scarf, and knee-high boots. I step into the bedroom, and Tristano's on the phone.

He stands in front of the window, staring out the glass, speaking in Italian.

I didn't know any language except English when Dante hired me. I quickly learned the Marinos often communicate in Italian, so I took it upon myself to learn it. While I barely speak words out loud, I fully understand conversations.

No one knows my little secret. Maybe it's not ethical to hide it from them, but they've also never asked me if I'm fluent in Italian. So I've not lied. Plus, I can often help Dante fix things he wouldn't ask me to do for whatever reason. I always find a way to explain why I did something so he doesn't know I can understand his conversations.

Tristano barks in Italian, "He knows the rules. This was a blatant disregard. Papà should have convinced the council to take away his membership, not allow this stall tactic."

My gut flips. The memory of Biagio's palm on my ass and the scent of his stale cigarette breath makes me cringe.

Tristano seethes, "That's not good enough, and you know it. He shouldn’t have agreed to another meeting." He taps his fingers on his thigh. His shoulder muscles flex through his T-shirt. He shakes his head then spins, catching me watching him.

I move to my dresser and open my jewelry box, pretending to debate about what to wear.

"Papà should have done better on this. You know he's not going to stop. If he's shown interest, we need guards on her."

The hairs on my arms rise. I don't doubt Tristano's talking to one of his brothers about me. It wouldn't be the first time Dante added a bodyguard to watch over me, but it's normally when the family is on high alert due to some outside threat.

It always seems silly when my driver also serves to give me a layer of protection, but I learned years ago when Dante decides I need a bodyguard, it's best not to argue. Plus, I know what the Marino enemies are capable of doing to women. I'm not looking to be their next victim.

I put my earrings on, and Tristano says, "I'll be back soon, and we can look at who's available."

I add a bracelet and turn.

Tristano slides his phone into his pocket. He steps forward. "I have to go."

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Yep." He leans down and tilts my chin, kissing me until his phone buzzes. He groans, glances at it, then pecks me on the lips. "You still owe me a date."

My butterflies spread their wings, but I'm also worried. Plus, I don't know what this is between us. Sure, we had a great time, but this can't go anywhere.

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