46

Joey
The next afternoon, I visit Sophie’s bank and pay off her car loan.
I love being able to take care of her this way. But I have to admit even more than that, I do like having her owe me. Even if all I demanded was three dates. I get a copy of the lien release and text a photo of it to her.
Am I an asshole if I hope she’s grateful?
Definitely.
Thank you, Joey, she texts back.
I know it’s hard to tell tone from a text, but I hate her reply. It’s not friendly enough. No emojis. No blowing kisses or praying hands to say thank you. No, Sophie doesn’t like owing me.
She has a hard-on for the Family, the same as her mom had, and I intend to find out what it’s all about.
My next errand is to take care of the Stan Matranga situation. I drive to the address in Forest Hill Al gave me and park in the circular drive. No sense hiding my presence. I check my gun before getting out and putting it in my waistband.
Movement in the blinds of the window tells me they know I’m here.
Forest Hill is one of the nicest neighborhoods in the Newark area, and the brick house is stately and expensive with vines crawling up the sides and bushes cut into spirals. There’s a heavy brass knocker hanging from the door. I pick it up and slam it down twice.
Stan opens the door himself, blocking the entrance aggressively. He’s not the boss of the Matrangas, but he’s a capo, and his moving to Jersey doesn’t bode well.
“Stan.” I use a false-friendly tone. “Heard you moved to Jersey. Thought I’d stop by and welcome you myself.” I let the menace in my gaze show him my welcome is in the form of a threat.
Stan’s eyes dart right and left, verifying I’m alone. “Yeah, just getting settled,” he says.
“Stan? Who is it?” A woman’s voice calls from inside the house.
“No one. Don’t worry about it.” To me, he says, “Hope you don’t mind if I don’t invite you in-boxes are still getting unpacked, you know.”
“Of course, of course. What brings you to Jersey?”
He jerks his thumb in the direction of the interior. “Wife liked the neighborhood here. Said the schools were better for the kids.”
I sincerely doubt Stan’s kids go to public school. I doubt his kids are still school-age.
“You know, Al wouldn’t like it if he thought your organization was pushing into our territory, you hear what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, sure. I know what you’re saying. But don’t worry-I’m just living here. Not doing any business.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Just living here. Our business remains in New York.”
I give him a long look, letting him know I’m watching him, then I nod slowly. “Make sure it does.”
He looks back at me, steadily. It’s a pissing contest but neither of us are going to swing. Or shoot. We both know what this is.
I turn to walk away, and he mutters “Stronzo” as he shuts the door.
I call Al as I drive away. “Yeah, just visited Stan. He says he moved to Forest Hill for the schools.”
Al snorts.
“I know. I warned him not to conduct business here.”
“And?”
I shrug even though Al can’t see it. “He says he won’t. I guess we’ll see.”
“You meeting with your informer with the FBI any time soon?” Al asks.
“Tuesday.”
“Good. See if he’s heard anything.”
“Yeah.” I end the call and drive home.
I have a date to get ready for.
And of course, since Sophie mentioned sex as part of our negotiation, it’s all I have on my mind. I know I’ll have to work for it. I’ll have to work just to get a second date. She’s not that into me.
But she will be. I’ll make sure of that.
Sophie
Freshly waxed, showered, and with new sexy panties on, I’m ready for my date with Joey. I don’t want to be excited about it.
I really don’t.
But I keep remembering what it felt like to be bent over the massage table by him. To have him slap my ass hard before he pushed into me. It was disrespectful, but I didn’t feel disrespected.
I didn’t know I’d like it rough, but I do.
A lot.
So now, despite my decision not to have sex with him again, I’m sex-ready in case he wants a repeat.
Who am I kidding? Of course, he wants a repeat. He’s a man. Probably quite a player. A guy that good-looking with money and power can probably get any woman he wants. I’m not sure why he’s pursuing me.
I put on a coat of mascara and take a critical look at myself in the mirror. If I’m honest, I admit this is the first time I’ve taken much effort in a long while.
I absolutely love being a massage therapist. It’s satisfying in many ways, but it’s damn hard to make ends meet. I’m still paying off massage school loans, and I have to pay rent at the studio and support myself. At least my car is paid off now.
The doorbell rings, and I open the door. Joey gives me an appreciative up-and-down sweep of his gaze and whistles. “You just made my night.”
My heart thuds with pleasure, but I play it cool. “How?” I step back to let him in. I’m wearing a short black skirt with bare legs and strappy heels, and a purple halter top that makes my boobs look amazing.
“I hoped you’d wear another short skirt.”
I roll my eyes, trying to hide my pleasure.
He leans in for a cheek kiss, and I catch a whiff of his cologne. It’s crisp and calming. If it had a color, it would be sea blue. Every nerve ending fires at being close to him again. Remembering the way his hands felt holding me in place. The way he took charge of me.
“Well, I’m ready.” I shrug.
“Don’t sound like I’m taking you to a torture chamber.” He cocks his head, eyes darkening. “Unless you like that?”
Oh damn.
Innuendos already. My breasts grow heavy, nipples chafe inside my bra.
He extends his arm, ever the gentleman. “After you.” He escorts me to his sapphire blue BMW and opens the door, helping me in before shutting it after me.
His car is clean and smells like cinnamon gum. I breathe it in like a drug.
“So.” He settles into the driver’s seat and turns on the car. “I got the feeling you weren’t happy to see me yesterday.”
My stomach flips at his directness. I snap my gaze to his. “No, I…”
“Come on, Soph. You didn’t like me showing up. You were nervous. What’s that about?”
I shake my head. “Nothing…”
“Is your beef with me or the Family?”
I uncross my knees and shift my hips around in the seat. “No, that’s not it… I don’t have a beef.” I fumble.
“Come on, bella. Level with me.”
I am not at all used to guys being so direct. Holding me so accountable.
I sneak a glance at his profile, and he glances away from the road to meet my gaze. I drop my eyes to my hands, tangling in my lap. “It’s just… I haven’t really seen anyone from the family much since my dad died.”
That’s not much of an answer, I know.
He waits for me to go on.
“I don’t have a beef.” I let out an exhale, releasing a chunk of resentment that’s probably been there for years. I didn’t even know it was there, weighing me down all this time.
“Is it with me?” His voice is gentle.
“No.” I lift my eyes to his face again. More brittle places in me, but the guarding and the protective armor start to dissolve.
How is this man so damn disarming?
“You’re, um, you’re just not my usual type, that’s all.”
Joey’s a man’s man, no question. Not my type at all. I loved my dad, but I didn’t love the life he gave me. The loss and pain. I’ve gone for softer men-artsy men, social justice sort of men, the kind who would stay home with the kids if I wanted to work. But I have to admit there’s a major appeal to an alpha male. Knowing he’d slay all my dragons if I asked. Hell, he already offed the car loan dragon, hadn’t he? And while he underscores everything I hate about the mafia-the violence at its core that caused the death of my father-he also reminds me of what I loved so much about my dad, too.
He smirks. He has a dimple in his cheek in addition to the one on his chin. “What’s your usual type?”
I can’t help but smile in return. “Not you.”
“Well, if I had a type, it would be you,” he says.
I snort. I’m sure he says that to all the women. “I heard you just broke off an engagement with someone.”
“Oh yeah?” He sounds surprised. “Where’d you hear that?”
“My Aunt Marie-you know, Tony’s wife? I called her after you came by yesterday.”
Is it just me, or does Joey look far too satisfied to find out I’ve been asking about him? Yes, there’s a definite note of triumph to his expression.
He shrugs. “Yeah, I just realized she wasn’t the right girl for me. Too empty.”
I study his profile with curiosity. I want to know more.
So Joey LaTorre is looking for depth? Why does that surprise me?
And why do I hope he finds it with me? I don’t. I definitely don’t.
Joey takes me to Epic, an upscale restaurant I can’t afford with majestic views of the ocean. The maitre d’ welcomes him by name and seats us in a private booth by a window. Real candles burn in the glass holders on the table. The city lights glitter on the water, making it look magical. If Joey was going for romantic, he definitely hit the mark.
This guy has charm in spades, which makes him harder and harder to resist.
The waiter comes by our table to take our drink order. Joey looks across the wine menu at me. “Do you like wine?”
“Yes.”
“Red or white?”
“Red, please.”
He looks up at the waiter. “We’ll have a bottle of the Dal Forno Romano Monte Lodoletta Amarone della Valpolicella.” The Italian rolls off his tongue like he’s a native speaker. He probably is. It makes me wish I picked up more Italian from my grandparents while they were alive. I check the menu and notice he just ordered a four hundred-dollar bottle of wine.
“You don’t have to show off for me, Joey,” I say, when the waiter’s gone.
He appears amused. “No?”
“I already know you’re a big shot. Plus, you paid off my car loana favor I already told you I can’t repay.”
“And I already told you this is how you repay it,” he says smoothly. “So you might as well sit back and enjoy it, bella. I’m showing off.”
His declaration knocks around inside my body, making the muscles between my legs tighten, my belly flutter. Everything turns tingly and warm.
“How’s your back today?”
“It’s actually better.” He drags his thumb across his lower lip, considering me. “What was that thing you did that made everything warm up?”
My eyebrows shoot up. Color me surprisedmost people don’t notice when I throw a little energy work into my massage practice. “You felt that?”
“Yeah. What was it?”
“It’s called Reiki. It’s an energy healing.”
The waiter opens the bottle of wine and hands Joey the cork. He makes a show of smelling it and then gives me a wink, which makes me smile. He samples the wine and gives the waiter a nod. When our glasses are full and the waiter departs, Joey says, “I won’t be recommending your services, though.”
I open my mouth in exaggerated outrage although, to be honest, I am slightly offended. “Why not?” I demand.
“I don’t want to think about you touching anyone else like that.”
Our gazes lock as I attempt to discern his meaning, my pulse thrumming at my neck. “I don’t.”
His eyes glitter in the candlelight. “Good. Because if I thought you gave any other man that cocktease I would have to burn your place of business down.”
I choke on my wine.
His lips twist into a smirk, and he regards me with heavy-lidded, appreciative eyes as if I’m the fine wine he intends to savor.
He lifts his glass. “To date number one.”
I clink his glass. “Why three?”
He grins. “I knew one wouldn’t be enough. I need time to get you hooked on me. Don’t you know that’s how it is with the Family? We get our hooks into you, and then you’re in for life.”
He’s teasing. I let out a nervous laugh because that’s exactly what I think, and I know he’s calling me on it. I take a deep drink of the expensive wine and screw up my courage. “Look, maybe I do have a beef. It’s just-my dad died when I was still a teenager, you know? And my mom, she never… she-”
“-hated the Family,” he fills in.
I meet his gaze. “Yeah. I guess she blamed his death on, um, the organization, so I did, too. I know you took care of us afterward. You were kind to me at the funeral. And Pauly dropped money off and visited to make sure we were okay. Maybe it’s not fair to hold a grudge.” I shrug. “I don’t know. When you’re hurting, sometimes you want someone to blame. We blamed the Family.”
“I get it.”
I blink hard against the burning in my eyes. “I just wish he was still around, that’s all.”
Joey’s face turns serious-all of the cocky charm gone, replaced by an empathy that makes my vision turn wavy. I avert my face and look out the window until the constriction in my throat eases.
Joey reaches across the table and covers my hand. “I’m sorry.”
I draw in a breath. “What really happened to him, anyway?”
He goes still and stares at me without speaking. I brace myself, my heart pounding up in my throat. This is it. I’m finally going to find out the real story.
Then he shakes his head as if arriving at a conclusion. The conclusion not to tell me the truth.
A flush of heat washes over menot precisely anger, but something that burns nonetheless. “You know,” I accuse.
He takes a sip of wine. I sense his hesitation. Like he wants to tell me something. He definitely knows. “It was an accident. That’s God’s honest truth.”
“I don’t believe you. If it were an accident, we would’ve seen a body.”
That was the hardest part of it allno absolute proof he was dead. For the longest time, I harbored this foolish hope he would show up again someday. Just walk through the door and give me a warm hug.
“The kind of accident you don’t want to be investigated.”
My brain runs in circles trying to decipher that. “So…an accident that happened while he was committing a crime? Or are we talking friendly fire?”
Joey shakes his head. “I can’t say more.”
Angry tears fill my eyes. My stomach roils. All my anger and resentment toward the LaTorres return in full force. My dad was one of their soldiers, and he somehow died in the line of duty. They know what happened and won’t tell.
I gulp down the rest of my wine and wipe my lips with the linen napkin. I can’t do this date with Joey. I can’t even look at him right now.
“Hey, can we leave? I’ve lost my appetite.”
Joey purses his lips. For a moment, I think he’s going to tell me a deal’s a deal. That I owe him. But he nods. “Yeah, sure.” He lifts his hand to signal the waiter, who seems as disappointed as Joey.
“I’m sorry,” I say when he touches my lower back to lead me out. I have to admit that I’m the one who ruined our date, and I do owe him. Maybe I can shake it off. “I just need some fresh air or something.”
“Sure. You want to go for a walk?” He’s nothing if not accommodating.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
We take the elevator downstairs and step out onto the city sidewalk. After a few deep breaths of air, I do feel better. “You really won’t tell me?”
“No, Sophie.” He sounds sympathetic.
We walk in silence for a stretch, his hand lightly resting on my lower back. My head is a mess of chaotic thoughts, my chest filled with fresh pain as if my father’s death was yesterday and not thirteen years ago. “I’m sorry. I guess seeing you brings it all back. I never had closure.”
He takes my hand. His is warm and large, comforting. “I wish I could give that to you.”
I turn to face him. “Was it quick? Did he suffer? How did he die? Just tell me something. Anything.”
Joey loops an arm behind my shoulders and gently urges me forward until I’m leaning against him, held in his arms. “It was an accident,” he says softly. “Let that knowledge be your closure.”
“Were you there?”
He hesitates a moment before he nods. “I was.” He lowers his face and brushes his lips over mine. “No more questions, bella,” he murmurs.