I let out a frustrated sigh and rub my eyes, my mind spinning with thoughts of a woman who might scratch my eyes out the next time we meet. “Goddamn. What a fucking mess.”
“Are we still talking about Red?” Sonny asks.
I don’t answer, the truth already ringing in my ears as the plane begins its descent.
15
LUCRETIA
“I’m not sure we spent enough.” Lito stands in my closet, his fingers tapping his chin. “You could’ve used more casual shoes, we didn’t get enough belts, and your taste in dresses was nothing short of appalling.”
“We can’t all be as trendy as you.” I run my fingers along the faux fur jacket he’d picked out for me. “I’m just trying to look like I belong around here.”
“You belong.” He turns to me. “We shopped our asses off for hours, got our nails done, then pigged out on cheap Chinese. We’re practically soulmates.” He yawns. “I’m just glad Mateo isn’t home yet. I want a cuddle buddy.” He pulls me in for a hug.
I got over the awkward pretty quickly this morning as he bossed me around various designer boutiques, demanded champagne wherever we went, and put every scrap of clothing we bought onto his brother’s credit card. Lito has been nothing short of a god send, even if he is the devil’s brother.
“Come on, let’s do Korean beauty. We have to keep these gorgeous faces top notch.” He leads me to the bathroom and sits me at my vanity before starting to rub lotions and potions on both of us.
A harsh knock sounds at the bedroom door.
“What?” he yells, then goes back to smoothing lotion on my cheeks.
Benito appears in the bathroom door, his eyes rolling as he watches us. “What the fuck is going on in here?”
Lito gives him a sharp glare. “You know, Benny, it wouldn’t kill you to pay some attention to your skin. You may look fresh right now, but in about a decade, your shit’s going to start to crack. Want to mask with us?” He points to the box of toning face masks we picked up at Sephora.
“Abso-fucking-lutely not.” Benny wrinkles his nose.
“Stop doing that. You’ll need Botox before you hit 30.” Lito smiles down at me. “But not us. We’re going to be wrinkle-free until at least forty.”
“You can’t stay in here with her, Lito.” Benny crosses his arms over his chest. “Mateo will lose his shit if he finds out.”
“Then I guess we won’t let him find out.” Lito shrugs and smooths some cream along his temples.
Benny grumbles. “I should’ve already told him you took off today without saying a goddamn word. Do you have any idea how bad that makes me look? I’m supposed to be watching her.”
“Stop talking about her like she’s not here.” Lito pushes my shoulder. “Give him hell.”
Benny gives me a scowl in the mirror.
“We went shopping. We’re back now. Nothing’s wrong. I’m still a prisoner here. Lito has made that abundantly clear.” I shrug. “And if you want to be a snitch, then that’s on you.” I tilt my chin up.
Lito grins at me in the mirror.
Benny scrubs a hand along his jaw—a move I’m sure has dropped plenty of panties. But it does nothing for me. There’s only one man who’s ever made me think twice, made me feel heat in secret places. The fact that it’s the man I hate above all others doesn’t say much for my current mental state.
“Lito, if something had happened while you were—”
“Nothing happened. Calm your tits, Benny. And unless you want to join us in the fine art of skin care, I suggest you run along.” Lito wraps a headband around his hair and smooths it off his forehead before peering in the mirror. “No grays … Yet.”
Benny grumbles a few more times before backing away, and only a moment later we hear the bedroom door slam.
“Men are so emotional.” Lito snorts.
It pulls a smile from me. I’ve never heard anyone in the families talk about the powerful men the way he does. It’s like he knows them so well because he was supposed to be one of them, but then he takes their bullshit and flips it on its head. I have to be honest—it’s absolutely refreshing. Endearing, too.
Lito runs his fingers through my hair, sifting the strands as he looks for grays.
If he finds one, I think I might fall apart. Not because of the gray hair, per se, but it would likely be the straw that breaks my back. Seemingly satisfied, he plops a headband around my neck then draws my hair back tightly to match his.
“Your complexion is to die for. I didn’t get any of that good olive from my parents. I’m more like Dracula—a fucking sexy one—but I suppose we all have our crosses to bear.” He dabs some cream under my eyes then does the same for his. “Mateo got the good olive tone, but I got all the brains, so I suppose it was a fair trade.” He smirks, and it reminds me so much of Mateo that I almost feel like I’m stuck in a déjà vu moment.