He looks over his shoulder as he walks out and winks, and eggs drop from both my ovaries.
Damn. I’m in big trouble. Joey LaTorre is way too charming.
And I’m way too susceptible to his charm.
Hot sex is one thing, but I can’t get into a serious relationship with him. I’ll explain that clearly on Sunday. When his hands aren’t on my skin. His scent isn’t surrounding me. Before he makes my body hum and my throat hoarse from begging.
ChapterSix
Joey
Saturday night, I leave Swank early. I can’t stop thinking about Sophie. The way she looked when she came all over my fingers last week.
How much I’m looking forward to her making me dinner tomorrow night.
There’s something about the offer that makes me feel like she’s a keeper. Everything about Sophie has felt like home since the moment I stepped into her massage studio. She’s the perfect combination of familiar and foreign.
It’s hard to get serious with a woman when you’re a Made Man. You have to consider what you’re bringing her into. That the commitment has to be for a lifetime because there’s no way out of this lifestyle except for in a box.
You marry a woman, and she becomes a party to all our crimes. You protect her from it all, of course, but she’ll find things out. She’ll know.
So there are no break ups. No divorce. You can’t have a situation where a disgruntled ex goes to the Feds. Either you keep her and make sure she stays happy or…. I don’t even want to voice the alternative.
In the end, that was what made me break things off with Amelia. I wasn’t sure if she was really “the one.” I don’t know why I even proposed in the first place. I guess because I’m at the age where I should settle down and start a family–according to my ma, anyway. I didn’t want to marry a woman I might change my mind about in the future because there is no changing your mind in this business.
But Sophie’s already in the family. She grew up in the culture. She knows what it involves. That doesn’t mean she’s willing to go back to it, but for some reason, it makes her seem like a better choice.
On the other hand, the fact that she resists me and everything I represent makes her a challenge. The alpha male in me likes the chase. I’m determined to win her over, if for nothing else, to prove I can.
Remembering she was going out with her friends tonight, I text her to ask if she’s still out. I probably shouldn’t booty call her, but I can’t stop thinking about her. I can’t wait until tomorrow.
When she doesn’t answer, I find myself irrationally jealous of her friends. Wondering what she’s doing. Where they went.
Somehow, I end up in front of her townhouse. Her car is parked on the street, but there are no lights on. I should drive away.
This is more than a little stalkerish. I’m being creepy.
But then a guy in a Nissan drives past slowly, like he’s looking for a parking spot, and I catch Sophie’s lovely head sitting in the passenger seat.
Jealousy rages through me like a dark storm.
I know I have no right. She didn’t commit to me. We aren’t exclusive.
It doesn’t matter. I want to kill the guy. Murder him and stuff him in his trunk then push the piece of shit car off a bridge.
My hand is on the handle before I can think, but I stop myself. Drag in one breath.
Then another.
Sophie doesn’t belong to me. Well, she does, but she doesn’t know it yet.
I force myself to remain in the car, one hand on the door handle, the other strangling the wheel. I watch as Sophie climbs out of the car. Is it me, or does she look like she’s escaping the guy? She turns to say something over her shoulder to him, then waves, like she doesn’t want to be walked to the door.
Thestronzofollows her, though.
He’s a dead man.
Seriously. I’m going to kill him.