Page 11

Quinn

Screaming, biting, and kicking do nothing. With one squeeze, whatever remaining air pushes tears to my eyes.

Then a chhichk of an overhead stringed light resounds, followed by an amber glow that shows my silver-haired fox I want to both grind on and simultaneously punch in both eyes.

“Got a notification that a rodent was sneaking around my business,” he growls.

I jerk to get free from his grasp, testing his strength. His grip is ironclad, yet gentle enough not to hurt or leave marks.

He releases his hand from my mouth.

“Piece of shit . You scared the fuck out of me!”

“Serves you right. Now pipe down ,” he growls again, his cold minty breath wafting in the air. His eyes and hair make him look like a snow wolf. A perfectly dapper one.

God it’s such a relief to see him. No way I’m letting him out of my sight now.

“Thought you mobsters weren’t allowed to use Wi-Fi and GPS.” I try to push out of his grip again. “Otherwise, my dad would’ve been all over you jerks.”

“There are other ways to be notified.” He smiles angrily at me. “Besides, you must have a short-term memory disorder. What do you kids call it? TikTok brain? Brain rot?”

“The hell are you talking about?” I wriggle, heat flushing my cheeks.

“I only show you what I choose for you to see. And right now, I’m a legitimate businessman, retired from anything they might’ve thought I was a part of.”

“You’re giving Ghostface right now.” I wriggle again, and he lets me go.

“What did you just call me?” He narrows his eyes like I hit a nerve. “How do you know that name—?”

I rub my wrists, making a show of how he manhandled me. “Ghostface? The Scream movies? Don’t tell me you’re that old…”

“Oh.” He sighs.

“Oh what ? Hey. ”

How is he ignoring me in this tiny space? He puts his back to me when I have access to about a hundred tools that could poke him bloody. Is he that confident I wouldn’t be able to hurt him? Did his old fart brain already forget who I grew up with?

“The fuck are you doing here, kid?” He checks his tools to make sure I didn’t touch anything.

“Excuse me? Now who has short-term memory loss. Silver… pfah. I’m going to start calling you grey, as in decrepit.”

He huffs, so I continue my charade.

“You show up in my room , claim you have my father safe and sound, then disappear for days, and you ask me —”

He spins on me again, his muscular frame peeking through his attire. He’s so much bigger than me, in a full blue-grey suit with a red tie and a shiny tie clip. The image teeters in and out with the swaying overhead light. It’s so damn sexy, but now isn’t the time.

“He’s safe, Quinn. I just fed him lunch not an hour ago. He worries for you, and only you,” he says evenly, stealing my breath.

No. Stand firm.

You have no proof.

“I don’t believe you,” my quavering voice lies.

“And I don’t trust you.”

I fume at that.

“I tell you to wait… I test your will as well as your patience, and within sixty hours you’re ransacking one of my stage homes.”

“Your request was unreasonable,” I counter, pushing him a half step back. “How would you feel if someone you loved was picked up by an ex-mobster and was holding them for a ransom that you couldn’t pay? ”

He glares at me.

“Going to say something, Silver? Huh ?”

He shakes his head. “How the hell could I ever let him free?”

All of that heat ignites into shooting flame, boiling my blood. I slowly put both my hands on his perfectly white shirt, and crinkle it in my grip. Jaw clenched, eyes unwavering. “I could’ve sold you out thirty minutes ago, Arosso Valentino .”

He arcs an eyebrow. “You can Google. Very proud of you.”

“You know what Google is? I’m proud of you too.

” I clap sarcastically, then slap the wooden table.

“My father’s best friend, Bill, came to pay me a visit.

I could’ve told him all about how you broke in, how you claim it’s the Russians.

But I didn’t . All my life I grew up with these people… and I told them nothing .”

He takes his leather gloves off slowly, coming uncomfortably close as he places them down on the table at my back.

“Is that so?”

“It is.” I clench my jaw. “Then I ran here because I’m fucking furious with you. Leaving me here for days to wonder.”

He’s so stoic, I have no idea what he’s thinking as he looms over me.

My breathing is heightened, and I swear the seam in his pants tightened just a bit.

That’s in my periphery, though. I’d be a fool if I glanced down.

Even if that twinge of hope still pokes the back of my head, he’s provided no proof.

“The time lapse was necessary. A kid like you could never understand.”

“That you had to see ‘where the chips fell’ in your old mob life? I get all that bullshit. What makes me mad is you don’t trust me .”

“I may have said those words.” He takes a step closer to me, his height over me that much more overwhelming, our bodies nearly pressing together. “But I didn’t mean them.”

Even with my coat between us, there’s literal heat warming us from the cold. “The hell are you saying, Silver?” I glance at his hand moving toward my chin, and jerk away angrily.

“I’ll take you to see him,” he says, and all of the anger within me melts into a sexual hearth settling in my thighs.

I side-eye him in disbelief.

“You will be quiet. You will behave. And only then will I know if what my gut tells me is true—that you can keep this underworld-altering secret.”

My heart races. He’s serious.

He really does have him…

His hand comes for my chin again, and this time… I don’t shy away. His steel green eyes are captivating. I’ve been dreaming about being this close to him again. The slight hint of aftershave, the crow’s feet crinkling the space around his eyes, the perfect jaw.

He’s aged wine. An old lion.

Not an ounce of insecurity to be found.

God… that’s what I’ve been missing. I want him…

His head dips, perfect lips on a crash course with mine.

When they finally touch, I swear the electricity between us makes my neck hair stand.

Everything besides our kiss is a distant thought.

My nails claw into the back of his suit, legs touching, and I’m a mess of emotion as his tongue curves into my mouth.

It’s long and dominant, and when his hands tear open my jacket—nearly ripping the zipper clean off—I gasp.

Just as his hands cradle my body, he stops himself and turns abruptly away.

“No,” I gasp loudly.

He’s breathing heavily too. His shoulders slowly bob as he rubs his temple. “We’re not doing this,” he growls.

I grasp his hand and slither into his nook, looking up at those eyes. They’ve lost their fierceness for the moment, and it makes me want him all the more.

He glances at my lips again. A cue… so slight, yet so powerful. This time I reach up to kiss him, doing my best to stoke the flame he’s trying to fan out. It’s soft and slow and perfect. He tastes so good.

And when I moan slightly into his mouth, I’ve done it again.

He pulls away.

“It’s not right,” he speaks vaguely.

“Nothing in this damn situation is ‘right .’” I slap my arms to my sides, then run my hands over his perfect abs. I can feel them through his shirt.

He shakes his head. “I know nothing about you. You’re too young—”

Eyeing one of the stage wine bottles that definitely doesn’t belong here, I lunge for it. “White wine puts me to sleep.” I spin the bottle in my hand, some off-brand twist top Pinot Grigio that says “sample” on it. “There, now you know something about me.”

He swipes the bottle from my hand. “You say this magic potion will make you stop talking?”

My mouth hangs open in an astonished breathless laugh.

He purrs his own cackle.

“Open it,” I dare.

“It’s probably turned. These are used on set because they’re the perfect coloring for camera.” He twists the bottle in the light. “Not for taste. Or for wasting.”

“There’s plenty.”

“I said it’s probably turned.”

“Only one way to find out.” I take the bottle back and snap off the seal, which makes him sigh. “Oops. Guess we’ll have to try now. I’ll be first to taste the poison.”

“That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me.” He grabs the bottle and takes a swig.

“Classy,” I tease him.

“Says the one begging to drink in a shed.” He hands it over to me.

As soon as the acidic bliss hits my lips, they tingle, making me want to mix it into our saliva some more.

“Shouldn’t you be working, or something?” he says.

“Yes and no.” I shrug. “I have more regrets than ever going into accounting, feeling useless in this situation.”

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for an accountant,” he scoffs.

“What would I be doing if you didn’t know?” I shrug one shoulder.

“Auctioneer,” he says bluntly. “Sales woman. Basketball coach.”

I slap his chest playfully and hand the wine over. “Why ‘cause I’m relentless?”

“Among other things.” He takes another swig.

“I’m scared to ask.” I lean back towards the table, catching him eyeing my body. “What about you, Silver? Give me something. What’s something about you that I should know?”

He walks over slowly, lips sealed, eyes tethered to mine. When the bottle slaps the table harder than I expect, my body jolts.

“That’s enough for today.”