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His frown deepens as he grabs my shirt. “You’re a problem for me, Quinn... Time must pass. The chips must settle. Just know your father is safe.”
He opens the window, and I grab his arm again.
“You’re not leaving,” I say sternly.
He stops what he’s doing, one hand on the window as he peers over his shoulder. There’s hesitation in him. A slight glimmer in his eye that fades with the wind. I’m begging him without saying a word.
Don’t leave me.
Give him back.
He turns fully around one last time, his hands moving gently to my shoulders.
“Sit tight, kid. Don’t get in over your head.” He leans in near my lips, waiting there, before turning to kiss my cheek.
“When will I see you again?” I surrender my earlier demand.
“Soon.”
We both look out the window to see the tail of the police car stationed in front of my house. Once he decides the coast is clear, he climbs down a cast iron pipe to the ground.
I shake my head when realizing he’s not heading toward his house across the way.
“This Italian mafia, Batman son of a bitch,” I speak to the cool wind, then shut the window and fold my arms. “Well shit.”
Chapter 8
Arosso
I fall into my chair in a huff. Someone to my right goes to tap my arm, but when they see my face, they think twice.
“And, action!”the TV show director calls through a megaphone.
I’m watching a struggle between two “criminals” who were supposed to have a reconciliatory dinner together that went south. One has a butcher’s knife, the other pulled a wooden leg off his chair. The choreography is so bad I want to punch the staff just to show them how it should look.
This is one of the many Valentino mansions set up as stage houses. It’s deeper in Jersey… away from this problem of mine.
The father?No. He’s the easy part.
Quinn…
I’ve been obsessing over her since the moment I laid eyes on her in that window. It’s bad for my health. She’s twenty fucking years younger than me.What in actual fuck would I have in common with her?
The chemistry is electricity, though. It can’t be denied. Not just physical. When she shouts and chases, I want more of it.I want to protect her.
“Cut! Cut!”The director jumps from his seat and stomps onto set. “C’mon, Billy. Who’s going to believe you want to kill this guy if you’re swinging it around like you’re swatting a fly?Like this!”He grabs the wooden leg andcracksit on the table. “You’re supposed to beferal!”
I can’t help but smirk in my seat.
The director comes back all huffing and puffing. “See what I’m dealing with? These soaps are nothing like the HBO series Ihad greenlit. Damn budget cuts.What the heck are you looking at?”he flares at a poor stagehand down the row of chairs.
“With all the theatrics, I’m thinking you should be the one in the scene, Sully,” I say casually, and the others try to mask their chuckles.
He looks at me, red in the face, then remembers who he’s talking to.
Lightbulb, motherfucker.
I grin, daring him to say something.