Page 34 of Confession (Constantine Brothers #2)

TWENTY-NINE

Quinn

“This seems like a lot of trouble for popcorn,” Vitali says, looking over my shoulder. “I’m sure we have the bagged stuff that goes in the microwave.”

I glare at him.

“Not an option?” he asks.

“No.” I pour oil into the two pots, cover them, and turn on the heat.

“Why would anyone complain when Quinn is cooking?” Lucas asks from where he and Roman are putting together the cinnamon honey butter topping.

“I’m not complaining. It just seems like a lot of trouble.”

“Go help Sasha,” I tell him.

He bites my trap, gropes my ass, and leaves. I sigh.

I glare over my shoulder when I hear a light chuckle. Lucas is looking pointedly at his work, adding the ingredients to a glass measuring cup. Roman is smiling slightly. It makes me really fucking happy to see.

It’s partly that Roman is doing better, but it’s also that Vitali is doing better too. He can still be a domineering asshole, but he’s starting to relax.

It’s not that his behavior has really changed. It’s more subtle than that. It’s in his energy. He’s less agitated. He’s trying to let everyone—and himself—just exist.

He listened to me. That feels really good. It makes me feel like I can be something for him like he is for me. I needed that.

When the oil is the right temperature, I add the popcorn kernels and cover the pots again.

Sounds of moving furniture screech out from the sitting room, plus a lot of arguing.

“But there are five of us,” Vitali says.

“I know that,” Sasha retorts. “That’s what that chair is for. Me.”

“You won’t be able to see. And that chair isn’t comfortable.”

“But with the projector here , the picture will be huge. And I can sit in that chair, it’s not that bad.”

I go to stand in the doorway, and I fall in love with Vitali all over again. He looks very annoyed, and so does Sasha.

“He wants you to sit with us, Sasha,” I say. “He just doesn’t want to say that for some reason.”

Vitali sends me a dirty look. Sasha, meanwhile, mouths, Oh . I shake my head and go to check on the popcorn, which is starting to pop. The butter mixture is heating in the microwave.

Vitali enters the kitchen and comes to stand behind me again. His chin rests on my shoulder.

“Where did you learn to do this?” he asks. “I don’t remember my nonna making popcorn.”

“I have learned a few things on my own, you know.”

His arms wrap around me. “You do know you don’t have to cook, right?”

“You’ve told me that a million times, yes. I like doing it.”

“Okay.” Vitali plants a kiss on the side of my neck. I’m still surprised by how affectionate he is. I’m surprised, too, by how much I love it.

Most of the time.

“Get back,” I tell him. “I’m busy.

“Black cat,” he complains. He’s really been enjoying calling me that. I can’t decide if I like it or not. I think I do.

I remove the pots from the heat. I toss one batch with olive oil, salt, and pepper while Lucas adds the sweet mixture to the other.

Bottles clink as Vitali grabs several beers and Sasha’s vitamin water from the fridge. Roman digs through a drawer for the bottle opener.

Lucas and I divide the popcorn into several bowls, then we take everything out to the sitting room, which has been completely rearranged.

It’s kind of a mess as a makeshift theater, with a projector screen hanging on one wall, the couch dragged around to face it, and the bean bags and blankets on the floor at Lucas’s request.

Vitali is setting the beers on coasters on the coffee table. I catch him frowning as he looks around the room.

“What?” I ask.

He shrugs. “It’s just weird to see this room like this.”

This is the most formal room in the house, and since it doesn’t really reflect Vitali’s style, it’s not hard to guess who designed it.

Lucas says, because of course he gets it, “We’ll put it back, Vitali. And there’s a room downstairs we could make into a theater for next time.”

Vitali relaxes. “No, I like this. It’s close to the kitchen. It’s a better use of this room anyway. I think … yeah, I think it’s good. Sasha, it’s your projector. You’re gonna have to—what are you doing?”

“Checking the cameras, Vitali, Jesus. I don’t trust Gavino.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about him. He’s old, he’s sick, his son just killed his daughter and a federal agent.”

“Until Alesso is apprehended or dead, I will remain paranoid, thank you very much.”

When Vitali opens his mouth to respond, I flop onto the couch in the middle and tug at him. “Just let her have the last word.”

Vitali plunks down beside me and lets his knee rest against mine. “Fine.”

As Roman and Lucas settle on the floor, Sasha clicks through her movies to Snatch .

“Fuck, this popcorn’s good,” Vitali mutters around a mouthful.

“And you wanted that microwaved crap,” I remind him. “Which one are you eating?”

“The sweet one.”

“Save some for me,” Sasha says.

“You have your own bowl,” I inform her. “I know how you are.”

“Aww,” she says. “That’s my sweet Quinn.”

“Just play the damn movie.”

Sasha starts it and drops down onto the couch. I open my arm for her and she slides in to lean against me.

“No funny business,” Vitali mutters, handing me a beer.

“Your jealousy is not allowed to extend to Sasha.”

His hand curls around my thigh. “As long as you come home with me, I guess,” he teases.

“I am home with you, Vitali.”

His hand squeezes my thigh, and the movie plays.