I’ve lost half the morning on Enzo’s latest insane demand: rearranging his collection of rare cigars in order of country, then price, then name. I finally finish when Hunter corners me in the hall. “Well?” he asks, all smiles and charm.
I don’t have time for this. It’s time for my confession with Father Smoke. “Well, what?” I pretend I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about. Did he want a reconnection with his heroic dog? Yes. Is he tripping all over himself because Brooke’s that kind of gorgeous?
Duh. Of course, he is.
The behemoth towers over me, his big, brown puppy dog eyes tugging at my heart. “Fine. Brooke said if you’re ever in town—”
“I’ll be in town,” he assures me. “In two weeks.”
“Don’t you have to work?”
He pulls out his phone. “Give me her contact information. I’ll take it from there.”
I enter her number and warn him sharply, “You better not get hitched without inviting me. I will take it personally.”
I hand him back the phone. He takes it with a grin. “Ditto.” He winks.
Before he can slip away, I ask, “Have you seen Smoke?”
He thinks for a minute. “Last I saw, he was in his office. I actually need to head there myself.”
“Oh, then I’ll wait.”
“Nonsense. I’ll only be a minute.”
Butterflies swarm in my stomach. I’ve stalled long enough. It’s time to tell him who I am. Or, at least, who I think I am. And while I’m at it, I’ll mention that I have to decline his generous party invite because I’m funneling all my money to Aunt Grace’s meds, and a gown for the ball didn’t make my can’t live without list.
This is way too much baggage to unpack at once. I’ll start with the picture. The one of Antonio with my mother. The one I’ll have to describe from memory because I no longer have it. It disappeared somewhere between interviewing for this job and being carted off to jail, courtesy of Uncle Andre.
God, what if they don’t believe me? Or what if they do, and they reject me? If Smoke or Trinity rejects me, my heart would shatter. Just thinking about it, my chest writhes in pain.
With every step, my pulse kicks up a notch-and-a-half until I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. By the time we reach the large, framed door, I’m lightheaded. What if I pass out? I don’t know if I can do this.
I’m about to turn and run when Hunter and his monstrous fist knocks. The door flies open, and Smoke looks down on me, surprised.
He hands the box off to Hunter. “You know where you’re going?”
“Yes, sir.”
I notice the flask with all the D’Angelo children’s names on it in the box, along with small, framed photos and other memorabilia. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t ask,” Smoke snaps back, and then apologizes. “Sorry, Ivy. Today’s a bad day. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”
Hunter rushes away, and I stare after him. “Did you need me?” Smoke asks.
Do I? During his bad day? “No,” I say, forcing a smile. “I don’t mean to interrupt you. It can wait.”
“As it would happen, I’m free now.” Opening the door wide, he gestures for me to enter. “Come in.”
I take baby steps, seeing he’s still on edge. His neck is tense, his jaw is tight, and it’s a good thing he can’t shoot lasers from his eyes. I suck in a breath. This could make his bad day so much worse.
“Fuck!” he shouts before slumping in his chair.
I shut the door behind me and cautiously move in beside him. My timing couldn’t be worse, and I pocket my big reveal.
But maybe my timing couldn’t be better. It’s obvious Smoke’s upset, and he’s trying to hold it all in. “I’m a terrific listener,” I offer, certain that what this oversized giant needs is a safe place to get all that pent-up anger off his chest.
“Uncle Andre, the anti-Christ, somehow managed to get a judge to agree to let him keep a few items while we hash out the rest in court. I’ll be lucky to ever see those again.” He snatches several papers from his desk, waving them furiously.
“But that flask belongs to you and Trini and all your brothers. Each of you signed it.”
It’s obvious by the look on his face that I’m preaching to the pissed-off choir.
My hands fly through the air. Outraged, I shout hysterically. “He can’t do that!” Smoke’s eyes widen, surprised by my reaction. I need to reel it in—take it down a notch. “Can he?”
He nods once, defeated. “He can for the moment. It’ll be months of court proceedings and negotiations. I’m pretty sure in the meantime, the son of a bitch will…” he uses his fingers to air quote, “…‘misplace’ it all.” He tosses the documents across the room. “Goddamned motherfucking lowlife.”
“Shitfaced, cock-sucking bastard,” I add.
Smoke’s huff breaks into a laugh. Amused, he stares at me. “Wow. You’re really starting to sound like one of us.”
One of us. I let his words swim around me, warm and free. Maybe I am one of them. My dark eyes meet his. Am I seeing things, or are they the exact same shade as mine?
His smile widens, welcoming me to tell him all the secrets I so desperately want to share. All I have to do is say it. Tell him. Right now.
A buzz sounds from his cell. He holds up one finger, indicating he’ll just be a minute, and answers. “Hey, Leo.”
Pause.
“Ivy’s here. I’ve been in a deep counseling session with her, sharing my feelings.”
Another pause.
“Fuck off,” he smirks. “I do too have feelings. Just ask Ivy. Come on by.”
My heartbeat thuds loudly in my chest. All I want to do is confess a few sins and never see Leo again. Is that too much to ask?
I stand, and head for the door. “I’m sure you and Leo have things you need to do. I’ll get going.”
But the door opens swiftly, and there he is. The heartbeat that was beating as wild as a drum suddenly stops, and so does my breath.
His dark hair is mussed about—a sign he’s been running his hands through it, thinking through his day. The navy shirt is painted-on perfection and wraps around the thick muscles of his arms, chest, and abs. His jeans are snug in all the worst places, and I can’t help staring. I swear to God, the man is blessed with a porn-level endowment. Too bad for both of us my foot is itching to kick the living shit out of him right in his money maker.
“Hello, Ivy,” he says, his smile boyish and genuine.
“Leo,” I respond flatly.
After several rounds of awkward staring and nothing to say, Smoke clears his throat. “So, Ivy? Was there something you wanted to tell me?”
“Mm-hmm,” I manage to choke out. This is ridiculous. I’m tongue-tied and flustered, and it’s all because of Leo and his goddamned fuck me cologne. “I—”
“Ivy needs a day off,” Leo says.
I whip him a glare, mouthing, “What?”
He hands me my purse and continues with what he was saying. “Ivy wasn’t exactly prepared to move in here when she was hired, and she needs a day to buy a few things. She also needs a gown.”
“A gown?” Smoke asks. I stare at Leo, confused.
Leo’s mischievous eyes lock on mine. “For the ceremony.”
Leo knows?
He might know that I don’t have a dress. What he doesn’t know is I have no way of paying for one. And I can’t tell him.
Smoke nods. “Of course. If you need more than a day—”
“I won’t,” I cut in, a little embarrassed. “A day should be fine.” Now, I can’t back out. I’m forced to find a dress and go to the ceremony. Don’t get me wrong. I want to go. I just don’t want to show up looking like a long-lost foundling who was blessed with tickets to a 1980s prom.
And so far, that’s what I’m faced with.
“How about today?” Leo offers, and I swear to God, I will smother him in his sleep if he keeps helping. “Trinity will be wrapped up in preparing for the festivities. Ivy can take off today.”
“Sure,” Smoke says before I can edge away from this mess.
“Perfect,” Leo says with a shit-eating grin.
I can’t complicate Smoke’s catastrophe of a day. I force a smile. “Great.”