5
Shaye
“Look, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need a babysitter, Rocco.” I fold my arms over my chest and tap my foot against the hardwood floor in Nico’s new apartment. “You don’t have to wait here. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Jesus, I just need some time to process everything that happened tonight. And I don’t need an audience for that!
Besides, I probably have better aim than Rocco can ever hope to have. But that’s not something I need to share right now. I need Nico. I have to see if he’s okay. I want to know that he’s okay.
“I promised Nico. I can’t go, Shaye.” Rocco lounges in a plush, burgundy leather chair, stretching his long legs in front of him. “You know that.”
I let out a deep sigh. “You’re locked down like fucking Rikers Island. Why can’t you at least tell me anything? If I have to put up with you sitting here, at least talk to me!”
“Shaye, cut it out. If I could, you know I would. Just wait for Nico, okay? He’ll explain everything.”
I stomp my foot. “Goddammit! You’re impossible!”
He smirks at me. “That’s one I’ve never heard from a smokin’ hot chick.”
“Argh!” I slap my hands on my legs. “You’re such an ass. I’m getting some hot chocolate. And you can suck it because I’m not making any for you!”
I pad into the kitchen. The ceilings are high, the cabinets black and glass. Very modern. The granite countertops are shades of gray, a compliment to the rest of the sleek décor. Such a grown-up looking kitchen, I muse as I sift through the pantry for any sign that he knew I was coming here.
He’s only had the apartment for about a month. I’d originally thought it was just another place for him to hide out. But after I’d enrolled at NYU, he told me he got it just in case I needed a place to crash after a late class instead of going all the way back to New Jersey. I think he was hoping we’d eventually move in together. Not now, obviously since I’m still in school, but maybe at some point.
At some point.I’m hoping a lot of things happen “at some point,” like Nico and I getting back to the place we were last year when we first got together. I’d actually hope to see that at some point in the not-too-distant future.
I pull a box from the second shelf and tear open the top, salivating at the chocolatey goodness soon to be gracing my taste buds. Marshmallow Lovers. God, I love that man. I open two envelopes and dump them into a mug from one of the cabinets. Okay, now the big question…is there milk in the fridge? Because drinking hot chocolate made from water is just criminal.
I pull open the refrigerator. Jackpot. And it’s full fat to boot.
“Any beer in there?”
I slam the door shut, startled by Rocco’s voice. “Even if there was, I wouldn’t give it to you because you don’t deserve it.”
Rocco hops onto one of the counter stools. “Don’t give me that shit. You know what he’d do if he found out I told you anything. Besides, I’m sure he knows more than he let on to me. Just wait for him to get back. Let him give it to you straight.”
I cock an eyebrow, pause for a second, and open the refrigerator door to grab a Blue Moon. I hand it to Rocco. “Fine. Here.”
He pops the top off using his keychain and takes a long swig. “Fucking guy was beaten to shit. Never seen anything like it. Even from Max.”
I roll my eyes at his crack about my brother. “No weapon?”
Rocco shakes his head and takes another gulp.
“And this guy…” Here’s where I play a little bit dumb because they don’t need to know the truth...that I have my own source, who just so happens to be a Russian mafia princess named Katarina Ivanov. Viktor’s daughter and second in command has become my own personal shooting coach as well as a reliable informant. But Rocco doesn’t need to know that part. “…he’s MMA, right? Kicked out for drug use?”
Rocco rubs the back of his neck. I can see the internal debate. Should he confirm? Should he deny? Should he ignore my question altogether?
I already know the answer. I also know why he’s back.
This is why you don’t screw with a woman. Because they have ways of finding out things that you thought were buried deep…very creative ways. And now that I know, I can use the information.
“This life is pure poison sometimes, isn’t it?” I join him at the counter and climb onto the stool next to him.
“Says the girl who has a pretty damn charmed existence.” Rocco scrubs a hand down the front of his face. “Cars, money, clothes, vacations…everything you want but nothing you have to sacrifice for.”
“Is that what you think?” I tap my fingernails against the granite. “That I just live in my perfect little bubble waiting for luxury to be handed to me?”
Rocco swivels around and stares at me. “Look, Shaye. I know you’re not like most of the women in these families. You’ve got your shit together. You’re trying to make something for your future. I respect that. But you don’t know what kind of fucked-up crap goes on behind closed doors to keep you in that Mercedes Benz of a bubble.” He leans closer. “I know you think you do, now that you’ve seen some of the shit that goes down with the other families, but you don’t. And there’s good reason for that. Nobody wants to see you get caught in the crossfire. It’s why Nico is a fucking disaster. It’s why Max is about to go off the deep end. And it’s why your father…” He stops and looks away.