Kon (Trassato Crime Family Book 2)(47)
“No. You don’t get it. I’m going to be ostracized. It happened to Nico’s sister. She got pregnant and the father disappeared. Everyone pretends like she doesn’t exist, and me, well, I did something so much worse. I’ll probably be sent to—”
I yanked her into my lap, framed her face with my hands, and she leaned into me, her amber eyes locked on mine. No words could communicate what I felt right then, so I allowed my hands and lips to do it for me.
“I’m not going to abandon you,” I whispered, unbuttoning her chef’s jacket and sliding it off her shoulders. “No matter what happens with your family, you won’t be alone.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” she said, her fingers diving into my hair, her mouth opened against mine. Desperation and desire bled together, lacing our kiss with unspoken promises that should never be made given our circumstances, but it didn’t stop either of us from making them.
***
“Let me ride in the cab with you.”
Carmela shook her head as she locked the back door to the restaurant. “No, it’s too risky. Gian will probably have someone check the interior of the cab when I get out. I’ll text you the minute I get home.”
I spun her around and kissed her for the hundredth time tonight, my hands sliding up and down her sides. I couldn’t get enough of her, and every moment spent without her out of my reach, my gut ached. I wanted to glue her to my side, protect her from everything and everyone, and never let her go. Jesus Christ, I was one dumb fucker. This whole relationship had disaster written all over it.
My dad thought my involvement with Carmela would give us access to the Trassato territories, and in the beginning, I thought he might be right. Now I was starting to think pushing Dominick Trassato would end badly for both Carmela and me. I should cut my losses and run away from this whole thing. Too bad I was a selfish bastard.
“You’re probably right,” I conceded, ending the kiss.
Threading my fingers with hers, I guided her to a street where she would have a better chance of flagging down a cab. A few cars zipped down the road and a neon sign of a diner flickered, but for the most part, the residential street in Park Slope was abandoned.
“You better get out of here.” She slipped her hand from mine. “My brother has spies everywhere.”
She stepped into the street to look for a cab. The minute her foot hit the cracked asphalt, a black sedan with tinted windows pulled away from the curb, its tires squealing, eating up the street like a beast of prey, filling the air with the smell of burnt rubber. Carmela swiveled in the direction of the sound, and she froze with her eyes wide.
My heart nearly jumped outside of my chest, panic boomeranging through me. I lurched forward, snagging her waist, and yanked her back like a rag doll. Her arms flailed in a windmill-like circle, her scream ringing in my ears. Her body collided with mine, and the oxygen exploded out of my lungs. I cradled her in my arms, her body shaking, the vein on the side of her neck pulsing, and her chest heaving like she had run a marathon.
The car picked up speed, rocketing around the corner and clipping the raised curb with a loud clonk. I caught the first few letters of the license plate, AR, before it blurred in the distance, disappearing into the night.
“Oh my God. Oh my God,” she mumbled into my neck. She sucked in a breath as if she were trying to compose herself. “I thought I was going die.”
My hand running up and down her back, I said, “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
“What the hell was that?”
“Not sure, but I’m driving you home. I don’t give a shit what your family or your brother says. Don’t even think of fighting me on this, solnyshka.”
She blew out a breath, her brows bunching together. “Why do you call me that?”
“Because you like it,” I answered rather than telling her the truth. The truth revealed too much.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Carmela
“I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was terrible. I got out and walked the last block. Between all the tourists and the heat, summer in New York sucks.” Ava kissed both of my cheeks, her heavy floral scent curling up my nose, overpowering the freshly baked bread smell in the restaurant. “Look at me. My clothes are damp from the humidity.”
“You look beautiful, and don’t worry about being late. I only got here five minutes ago.”
“Oh, thank God.” She plopped into her chair, her elbows propped on the edge of the white tablecloth. “I felt like such a jerk making you sit here when you probably have a million and one things to do. I bet you’re chomping at the bit to put all those wedding plans you made with Rocco to use.”