Saint (A Dark Mafia Romance)(36)

I glance around, again, taking in how amazing his loft is. Distinctly masculine and yet tasteful, and full of really nice stuff. Amazing vintage furniture, framed art on the walls - even a pool table off in one far corner.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“How do you afford this place?”

“You’ve seen the neighborhood, right?”

I grin, and he smirks right back.

“Oh don’t worry, it’s ‘up and coming.’ I’m expecting a Starbucks in about twenty years.”

I smile into my drink.

“The building belongs to my organization. And the rest of it?” He shrugs. “I like nice things. I didn’t have shit growing up, and I do well, so now I do.”

I nod, sipping my drink.

“So, explain something to me.”

I raise a brow as his words.

“Explain how someone like you burns a guy’s practice room down.”

“It was a garage.”

He snorts, chuckling. “Well damn, girl.”

“I- it’s complicated.”

“I’m listening.”

I shrug. “I figured out he was cheating on me.”

“So you burned a garage down? Jesus.”

“Well, no, it’s not just the Jayson thing, I guess.”

Connor just looks at me, his face neutral, his eyes holding mine like he’s genuinely waiting to hear more.

And for whatever reason, I let it all spill.

“I’ve been having this thing where I feel like the rest of the world is moving on with their lives and I’m just stuck in this rut I’ve dug for myself. You know? Like, for instance, this grad program I’m in at Boston University. I worked really hard to get here, and I’m supposed to love what I do, but I’ve just been avoiding it. Does that make any sense?”

He nods.

“I haven’t even been going to class, actually, and I think I’m going to fail out. And then I have this whole big family, and I’m supposed to be the good one, you know? Like, I have two older sisters and two brothers. Ivy quit college to run this lifestyle blog, which was the dumbest thing ever. And Stella dropped out too when she got pregnant by some douchebag who then took off. And Rowan is just-”

I laugh, shaking my head and slugging back a big sip of whiskey.

“For whatever reason. Rowan is just the family fuck up. I mean, he pulled all this shit when he was a kid, and he’s constantly not living up to my dad’s eyes, and he owns a dive bar. Then there’s Kyle, my little brother, but he’s the anomaly. He was always the smart genius of the family, so he’s doing fine. But the thing is, all of them are doing fine now! Better than fine, they’re doing great now. Ivy’s a freaking internet star, and she found her true love with her old boyfriend. And Stella’s kicking ass as this amazing single mom, and she’s an awesome nurse too. And fucking Rowan is even finally winning at life. He’s married and got a kid on the way, and his stupid dive bar is killing it.”

I break only long enough to slug back more whiskey.

“So then there’s me. And I’m supposed to have it all figured out, but I don’t know if I’m in the right place and I don’t know if I like what I’m trying to be. I’ve been pushing my friends and family away, and finding out Jayson, who was already the lamest, crappiest boyfriend ever, was cheating on me, I guess it was the last straw. I went to his practice space to talk, but when no one was there, and I saw the gas, and I was drinking and…”

I finally just trail off, realizing that besides my prattling on, the room is silent. I glance up, and I realize I’ve been talking like a crazy person for five straight minutes.

Connor whistles slowly. “Wow.”

I look down, scowling. “Yeah, sorry.”

“No, that was good.”

“You think I’m a crazy person now, don’t you.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t.”

I roll my eyes. “C’mon, I know how you see me.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Crazy privileged girl having a quarter life crisis?”

“Believe me, I’ve seen a lot worse.”

I take a big drink. “You ever burned down a garage?”

“Two. And an apartment building, an underground gambling spot, and three cars.” He frowns. “Four cars.”

I blink in surprise - and maybe a little fear - as he shrugs.

“Trust me, princess, you’re not going to find judgment here on burning down some shitty hipster’s shitty band’s practice space.”

I smile. “Thanks for letting me vent.”

“Sláinte.” He clinks his glass to mine.



We finish our drinks, and when I yawn, he does the same.