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He’s got the captain’s daughter, thecaptainhimself, and a whole bratva wondering where we both are. Not to mention, he can’t be in a good spot with his own family after pulling a stunt like this.
I’ve decided, since he promised resolution with my dad, I’m going to stop holding it over his head for a day and really try to get to know him. There’s something there that has to be explored,outsidethe bedroom.
Hours go by. He’s tying up loose ends, trying to get the pulse on the missing cop, bratva situation, whatever, but he’s not here. I only get him for a short time at strange hours. Sue me if I say I haven’t been picturing a life with this man. I said it once and I’ll say it again—he and my dad would get along in an alternate reality. Iknowit. Thing is, living these weird hours waiting for him to come home? Not going to work for me.
Am I acting crazy?
I get up, enjoying the warm heat under the soles of my feet as I walk over to the mirror in the open-concept dining room. The bruise under my eye is turning colors, but it’s not as puffy as yesterday. The cuts on my lip are healing too. When I lift my shirt, there’s a galaxy of bruises from being manhandled by Dishwater. I’d be lying if watching his head pop wasn’t somewhat satisfying, in a sick sadistic sort of way.
Don’t get me wrong, I cried for almost two straight days recanting the events. It wasawful. It’s just, these situations aren’t black and white. It’s like being dragged into some halfway house to hell, and understanding all of the fear and sick retribution that can be had there.
Thinking of Ferraro’s Mr. Hyde personality swap makes me realize he’s been living in that halfway house for some time. A gambling addiction? Sending the Russians to your own house? What kind of sick, desperate asshole would…ugh.
More hours go by. I pace around the house, contemplating how this whole situation is going to play out. I mean, I can’t hide here forever, right? I suppose I could get a wig and wear contacts. Maybe go fake tanning or something… Then I’d be living in fear. Arosso said the don’s wife, Ellie, did that when she was in hiding. It worked, too.
When my dad is let free, there’sno wayhe’ll accept that I’m missing. And honestly, there’s no way I would accept not seeing him again. So, when Silver says he’s got a solution, he better have a good one.
Whenever I think about him, my body gets hot like I want to start throwing plates or something. I don’t know, something about him… I always want to fight for his attention. And that’s like, all the time these days.
I’m a housewife waiting for my hot older man to get home. No, I’m not even that—I have no dishes to clean or house to vacuum. Everything’s taken care of.Ugh.
Another hour goes by and I hear the automatic gates open. Looking to the security camera, a black Chevy pulls in that makes my heart flutter. It’s him.
Should I annoy him? Give him a big hug? Or let him unwind?
He punches a code into the back door, and I get a glimpse of his silver hair and mixed beard. His concentration face is cute. Ruffled brow, perfect lips in a tight frown, bow-shaped lines around them. I’m happy to just take a beat and watch him, pretending he’s all mine in some married fantasy rearing from my head.
Fsssh.
The back reinforced sliding door glides open, and it takes every fiber in my body not to run up to him. He’s holding a brown paper bag again. Groceries?
When our eyes meet, he holds back a grin, but mine is plastered on my face.
“What are you so smiley about?” He avoids my gaze, because he doesn’t want to know I can tell he likes me.
“I’m alive,” I say.
“That’s true. Guess I never considered what it’s like to be rescued prey.”
“Hey!” I stomp up to him. He’s already triggered me.
I stare at him angrily, looking up and holding my poker face, until he disarms me with a kiss.
His lips are cool from outside, and that cools my whole temper.
“What’s in the bag?” I turn, and he moves it away from my sight. “Hey.What’s in the damn bag, Silver? It’s not a head, is it?”
“Don’t be an ass. I know that might be hard for you,” he growls.
I push him, feeling those rock-hard abs behind his suit jacket. “Can’t believe I looked forward to seeing you.”
“Yeah, same,” he admits, and my whole body melts.
Did he really just say that?
Usually, it’s me flirting with him. I’m actually at a loss for words, so instead, I lunge for the bag. He just sighs and lets me peek inside. Organic turkey—my guess is for lunch. A loaf of bread. Fruit. And… what the hell?
I pull out a packaged pair of floppy-eared dog socks, and I cough out a laugh of disbelief.