“I don’t, but...” He exhales, folding his arms over his chest. “Snap out of it! Shit, just look at the whole thing the way I do. You’ve saved her ass three times in two days. You got yourself a little damsel in distress, and we’ll be doing all the work.”
Rookie tears himself from his seat. “What the fuck did you do? Dante took care of everything himself. You didn’t lift a finger, but you complain like you haven’t stopped fucking people up for days. Lay off her.”
Luca opens and closes his mouth, a fish out of the water, surprised that no one took his side. If he argues any more, he’ll end up looking like Cannon or Loki.
I hold my hand up before he says another word. “Get the fuck out. Take Sandra and go home before I make you bleed.”
“I didn’t mean anything bad, Boss, but none of this feels right. She came out of fucking nowhere! She’s Frankie’s daughter!”
Why does everyone insist on reminding me who Layla’s father is? I don’t have Alzheimer’s. I know damn well who her father, mother, grandmother, and great grandfather are, but that doesn’t mean shit. Layla’s here for me. She’s here because the chemistry between us is undeniable. Because she cares about me as much as I care about her. Frankie has shit all to do with any of it.
“I know her family tree, Luca. It doesn’t alarm me, so it shouldn’t alarm you. Do yourself a favor and don’t argue with her. She keeps shooting you down, and it’s really fucking sad to watch when you can’t handle shit.”
He falls silent, sulking for the rest of the night, not one more word to Layla or me until the club closes. Good choice. He knew that one more sentence in her direction would cost him his teeth.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Layla
Since I started dating his enemy, Frank regardsmeas an enemy too. He ignores me when I speak, gracing me with furious glares. I don’t care, but I am confused when he does this even when no one’s looking.
“Don’t make plans for next Saturday,” he says when I walk into the kitchen on Wednesday morning.
Too little too late. Dante reserved me for all the days this week, next week, and every week.
“I’ve already got plans.”
He scowls, highlighting the wrinkles around his eyes. “Cancel. You’ll be here to entertain my guests.”
“Another party? What’s the occasion?”
I hate that I need his attention. It’s not as if we talk about my plans or aspirations, but any conversation is worth its weight in gold. I still remember the times when Frank hugged me, and Jess told me she loved me every year on my birthdays.
Six years have passed since the last manifestation of their affection, not counting the trip to Aspen Frank and I took. Although it shouldn’t count. Frank only played nice because he wanted my help. Everything changed when Dante took over the South. Among other things, the humanity that burned in Frank went out forever.
“The boss from New York is flying in. I still have to figure out how to explain why my daughter’s dating my enemy.”
“Don’t tell him. They don’t need to know.”
“They know. His goddaughter lives in Chicago.”
“Hold on.” I look up, remembering who the boss of New York is. “Is Julij coming along with Nikolaj?”
Adam appears at the door with Burly at his side. “Should we wait in the office?”
“No, Layla’s leaving.” Frank points at two empty chairs urging his men to sit. A mocking smile tugs on his lips. “Yes, Julij’s coming, and you’ll be here, taking care of him. Don’t object. That’s the least you can do for me now that I’m allowing you to date Carrow.”
“You’reallowingme?” God, why do we always have company when I need to retaliate? I bite my tongue, finding a different way to hit. “Try and stop me.”
I had the dubious pleasure of meeting Julij Aristow two years ago while we were in Dubai. He’s an embodiment of everything that’s wrong with the male population. He was twenty-two back then but acted like a teenager, like those stupid, rich football players in high school: loud, obscene, irritating, king-of-the-world type.
We argued for two weeks straight. He considered my aversion toward him as a sign of attraction. When he drank too much, he was pushy and vulgar. He never touched me, but I felt sick whenever he called mesugarwith a thick Russian accent.
And now I have to spend another evening with him.
A rumble of large engine filters inside the house through the open windows when Dante pulls up onto the driveway. He took on the role of my personal chauffeur, driving me to and from college every day. To my surprise, Frank didn’t argue against Dante showing up here house every morning.
The relationship between them is bizarre. Mutual respect overshadows the enormous hatred... mostly.