Page 3 of Of Beauty, Brains, & Bravery

I stared at him in disbelief. Did he really think I wanted anything to do with him now? Did he think he had a magic cock that would make him think I would disregard the last couple of hours?

2

Antonio

“It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.” —Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

“You must be crazy if you think I’m going to stay here for another second.” Callie looked at me as tears welled up in her eyes. “I want to go home right now.” She stepped out of the bed and glared at me. Her face was full of hurt and distrust. So she’d understood I wasn’t the deep, sweet guy she’d initially thought I was.

“That’s not going to be possible,” I said, shaking my head, taking a deep breath. I knew she was upset and hurt, and I understood why. This wasn’t how I wanted her to find out some of my secrets, but eventually, she’d have to know. “I’m sure you want answers, don’t you?” I said softly, touching the side of her face.

She slapped my hand away and then pushed me. “Don’t you dare touch me!” she screamed as if I held a knife to her throat.

My eyes widened in surprise. She was definitely acting like a drama queen. And it was turning me on. I wanted to bend her over the bed and slide deep inside her. I wanted her to scratch my chest, my back. I wanted her to bite me. I wanted to have angry sex with her. Somehow, I didn’t think she’d go for that, though. I’d fucked everything up. I should have known my dad would have recognized her. I’d seen photos of her mother, and they looked very similar. Both had hauntingly beautiful and vulnerable faces.

“I want to go home, Antonio. I want to go now! You can take me or you can call me a taxi or you can have one of your goons take me, but—”

“One of my goons?” I raised an eyebrow and shook my head. “Isn’t that a stereotypical thing to say?”

“Isn’t what stereotypical?” she said, blinking in confusion, her anger forgotten for a moment.

“Calling my friends goons. That’s like assuming every Italian or Sicilian man is part of the Mafia.”

“But you are part of the Mafia, Antonio. Your dad is the freaking don, and you’re going to be the don one day, and I’m pretty sure guys like your friend Jimmy are called goons for a reason, because they do your dirty work. Oh, wait, but you do your dirty work, too.” Her lower lip trembled, and she paused. Her eyes searched mine for a few moments, and she grimaced.

“What is it, Callie? I know you haven’t finished saying everything you want to say.”

“Is that why you slept with me,” she said, “because this is a game to you? And I—”

“I didn’t sleep with you because this was a game.” I shook my head. “This isn’t a game. I didn’t want to hurt you.” Which was true, technically. I didn’t want to hurt her as much as I wanted to hurt her father. “I’ll explain everything to you, if you let me.”

“Explain what?” she said.

“Don’t you want to know why you’re here and how I know your mother?”

She had an obstinate look on her face, and I could tell she was debating whether or not to agree with my statement. It was obvious that she wanted to know. Who wouldn’t want to know? And while I’d give her the truth, I wouldn’t tell her everything, but she wouldn’t know that.

“I want to go home, Antonio.” She sighed. “I don’t care about anything else.”

“Just stay for the dinner,” I said, a dullness throbbing in my head. “Please.”

“I know you’re not saying please to me, jackass.” She stepped back and shook her head. “I want to go! If you don’t let me go, I’ll start screaming.”

“And who’s going to come and help you?” I said, annoyed, as the door opened.

“Hey, boss.” Jimmy walked into the room, and I looked over at him.

“Yes, Jimmy?”

“We got a call from Melba’s Pizzeria. We got some trouble again.”

“What the fuck is going on down there?”

“I don’t know, but also we got some problems with Lucio at Lupo and that Brigitte.”

“Okay, give me five minutes.” I was fucking pissed off at all these issues.

“Yeah, boss.” Jimmy stood there for a couple of seconds.

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