Fall(Romanian Mob Chronicles Book 2)(16)

He laughed, something he’d done more of since he had met Fawn than he had in his entire life before her. “You and Esther. Not your usual, but I can see it.”

“There’s no ‘it’ to see, Vasile. We’re just fuc…” I trailed off, seeing the censure in Vasile’s eyes. I supposed I understood. Esther was important to Fawn, which meant she was important to Vasile. But still. This wasn’t anything more, couldn’t be.

“Right,” he said after a moment, but his knowing expression told me he didn’t believe me.





* * *



Esther



It had been days since I’d seen Sorin, something, I reminded myself almost constantly, that was a good thing. I’d had no illusions about him, knew that even if I didn’t have details, he was a brutal, dangerous man. And so I tried to focus on that, trying to ignore the fact that he’d acted that way because of me, something that grew harder, the more thought I put into it.

I was strong, independent, had never had to rely on anyone to take care of me, protect me, especially not a man. In truth, my ability to do those things myself had been clear to all, so clear no one had ever even tried.

Which was good, I told myself as I stood in front of the paint mixer, creating just the perfect shade of sage for the waiting customer. Yes, it was very good that men respected me, recognized that I, more than anyone else, was responsible for myself. Could take care of myself.

My brain nodded along, practically screaming “Amen,” about as close to righteous as it ever really got.

My body on the other hand…

It was a traitor, to me, to women, to peace. Okay, so maybe that was a touch hyperbolic, but still, as much as my brain and my upbringing said I should have been horrified, disgusted, ashamed, my body had other ideas, ones that were unsuitable for the hardware store, unsuitable for anywhere that didn’t have me and Sorin alone and uninterrupted.

And as much as I didn’t like that, wished I could have been detached, could have used that incident to finally put an end to the desire that apparently had my brain melting, I couldn’t. And I didn’t know what to do about it.

“Here we go,” I said as I removed the can of paint from the machine and stirred it with a wooden stick.

“That’s not exactly what we had in mind,” the woman said, her face turned down.

“Yeah, it’s more like avocado than sage,” her husband added.

I huffed but at the last second managed what I hoped was a patient, friendly smile. “Why don’t you paint a little here and see how it dries, and I’ll load the rest of the order,” I said as I handed them brushes and small sample canvases.

That seemed to placate them, so I moved down the aisle to gather the raw wood and whatever other crap they planned to buy.

“Need a hand, Ms. Esther?”

I glanced up from my task of wrangling wood and turned to look at the owner of the smooth, baritone voice. Brown eyes that sparkled with mirth and mischievousness flashed at me.

“You offering?” I replied.

“Depends,” Michael Smith, a local contractor and regular customer, said.

“On what?” I said, keeping my voice stern but light.

“On whether or not you’ll go out with me,” he said.

I frowned, but he just smiled. “That looks like a no. How do I get to yes?”

“So this is a negotiation?” I said, only belatedly realizing how flirtatious I sounded.

“Sure. I can be persuasive,” he said, eyes gleaming.

But my traitorous mind, which had only moments ago been on my side, betrayed me and filled my head with images of Sorin who certainly wouldn’t negotiate and yet still managed to be persuasive. I looked at Michael again, who watched me patiently, and I gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach my heart.

“Michael, I…”

“I know, getting familiar with customers is bad news.”

“I could lose my job,” I said, pointedly ignoring the fact that Sorin and not my job was at the forefront of my mind. “And who said I was getting familiar with you?” I added on the next breath.

He laughed, the sound smooth, one that would have ordinarily gotten a reaction from me.

I waited, waited some more, but there was nothing.

“Michael, I—”

“Miss! Miss! We need more paint,” the couple called as they looked over at me and Michael, seeming none too pleased. I had no idea why. I thought the paint color had turned out lovely, but the couple’s matching sour expressions told me they disagreed.

“Duty calls?” Michael said.

“Yeah,” I replied distractedly, trying to focus on providing great customer service in the face of what I could see would be a challenging couple.