“They’ll love you,” he said.
I frowned, staring him down. “Your brothers have never spoken to me before despite living right down the street from me. In fact, up until now, you haven’t spoken to me.”
He moved into the living room and leaned against the window frame opposite me. When he put that burning energy behind his eyes away, he had a pleasant expression that felt like a mask. Our eyes met and something moved between us, something uncomfortably tense.
Behind us, I heard a faint tread and we both turned. My stepfather stood in the doorway, watching us with his gaze narrowed.
“Good morning, sir,” Peregrine said, turning his charm all the way up.
He crossed the room and shook my stepfather’s hand. They started talking rapidly in Italian and I saw his shoulders loosen as Peregrine put him at ease. A prickle ran up my spine. Did this man ever show his true face or was he just a book of spinning pages? A hundred different Peregrines he could choose from like he was putting on one of his suits.
A kaleidoscope of Peregrines.
I played with the idea in my head for a moment, watching them talk. It made me wonder which man he would be when we were alone. When he got me in his bed. The thought roused two conflicting emotions and I wasn’t ready to deal with either. The first felt a lot like a thrill of fear. The second felt like desire, deep and dark blue in the depths of my stomach.
Peregrine broke away from my stepfather and beckoned me, a flash of sternness crossing his face. Not wanting to make a scene, I obeyed, joining him in the hall. He exchanged a few parting words with my stepfather and they shook hands and then he led me outside. As soon as the door closed, his hand came up and rested on my lower back.
“Where are we going?” I said.
“To brunch with my parents.”
He frowned as he opened my door and helped me inside. I felt like his touch lingered a little too long, but perhaps I just imagined it. Perhaps a small part of me wanted it to. I swallowed, wondering if I was just another in a long line of people Peregrine had seduced.
He sat down and turned the key. I frowned at him sideways.
“I meant, where are we going for brunch?” I said.
“My parents’ house.”
“Oh,” I said, deeply uncomfortable.
Neither of us spoke for the remainder of the drive. It was a warm day with a promise of cooler weather to come and the sun was out, glinting through the trees over the historic neighborhood. I’d lived on this street since my mother had married my stepfather. Just down the road was Mr. and Mrs. Calo’s house and on the other side, less than a three minute drive, was the ancestral Calo home.
I’d never been inside Peregrine’s house. He’d lived there for the last few years after his grandmother’s death. After her will had been finalized, Peregrine had gotten an advance on some of the money despite not being married. But now the time had come for him to pay up. To fulfil his end of the bargain and receive his inheritance.
Mrs. Calo was a quiet, but kind woman with an exhausted face. Raising five unruly boys under the stern eye of her husband had taken its toll. Mr. Calo made me feel like something was crawling up my spine. He was an older version of Peregrine except he lacked the warmth and charisma of his son. Before Peregrine had ascended the ranks, his father had acted as diplomat for the outfit.
The only really good thing I knew about him was that, unlike some of the other made men, he played it straight with his wife. He loved her even if he could be cruel sometimes, and he kept his hands to himself. I hoped Peregrine had picked up that trait at least.
We pulled up outside and Peregrine circled the car and opened the door. For a second, as he extended his palm, I saw it in high definition and my whole body shuddered. It was beautiful, like the rest of him. With square fingertips, light callouses on his palms, and it was much bigger than mine. The way he gripped me was firm and I felt all the power in his arm coiled up in it.
As he pulled me to my feet, my breasts brushed against his chest and he paused. His brows lowered and his mouth thinned as he studied my face. My breath came short and fast, a thrill of fear moving down my spine.
He was a graceful man so it was easy to forget just how big he was, but when he was up close, I was stifled by him. His chest was an expanse, filling my vision. His big shoulders cut out the view of the house behind him. I swallowed, my mouth dry, and met his gaze.
“What’s wrong, kitten?” he said softly, cocking his head.
“Nothing.”
“You don’t like me.”
“That’s not true.”
He stepped back, pushing his hands in his pockets. “So how do you feel. I want you to hit me with your honest thoughts.”
I studied him for a long moment. If he wanted me to be brutally honest, I was going to be.
“You’re unpredictable and I don’t like that,” I said. “You’re too handsome to trust and you know how to manipulate people and that makes me uncomfortable. I can’t tell if you’re going to be cruel to me or kind from one minute to the next.”