for sure. He even has the respect of the other crime families—something I’ll likely never have.
Turning my attention back to Joaquin, I smooth a hand over my shirt. I should probably press him to tell me what the fuck happened that required a clean-up crew and the change of clothes, but to be frank—I really don’t give a fuck.
I guess that’s what happens when you’ve reached the end of your rope.
When you’re coasting through life on borrowed time with no real future.
No dreams.
No family.
No woman.
Nothing.
“Let’s get this shit over with,” I mutter.
As soon as I start for the door, my phone starts to ring causing me to pause. I pat my pockets and pull out the offensive device, my eyes instantly narrow at the sight of the name on the screen. Two fucking months later and the sight of her name gets my blood boiling. I lift my head and notice Joaquin’s eyes are aimed at my screen.
Playing it off, I turn my screen to him.
“Why is Vi calling me?”
A man of my word, I never told Joaquin about my night with his sister, a decision I’m still struggling with months later. I was fucked up that night—no surprise there—and I made a promise to Violet when my loyalty should’ve been with the man who made it his life mission to keep me grounded. The shitty thing is, I’d probably do it again. All of it… right down to the part where I made her promise to call me if she couldn’t get in touch with her brother.
Shit.
What if that’s the reason she’s calling?
Closing the distance between us, Joaquin snatches the phone from my hand and sends his sister’s call to voicemail.
“She’s only calling you because I declined her call,” he seethes, handing me back the phone. Drawing my eyebrows together, I stare at him for a beat, trying to mask my anger. See, if he knew his mother took a loan from a sleezy motherfucker like Mitch and his little sister was taking her clothes off to pay that debt, he might be inclined to answer the fucking phone when she calls him.
“Why?” I press.
His eyes narrow into tiny slits and he clenches his tattooed fists.
“What do you mean why?” he growls, losing his patience with me. “Did you not hear anything I fucking said since I entered this room? I don’t have time to entertain Violet right now and she’s only calling me to give her flight information.”
The color drains from my face at his revelation and my chest tightens. I force myself to focus on him and not the memories that taunt me every night since I dropped her on her mother’s stoop.
“Her flight information,” I repeat, forcing a swallow.
“God, you are such a fucking mess,” he hisses, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I told you, my mother is sending her and a few of her friends here for the weekend to celebrate her birthday.”
My eyes widen. There’s no fucking way he told me that. Had I known Violet was planning a visit, I would’ve moved heaven and earth to make sure it didn’t happen. And what’s this shit about Flora sending her—the woman doesn’t have a pot to piss in.
Those memories I’ve been trying to push out of my head surface and a vision of Violet dancing around a stripper pole with her bare tits on display flashes before my eyes.
Christ.
She can’t fucking come here.
I barely survived that night. I had to sleep in the fucking chair because I didn’t trust myself and when we parted the next morning, I felt like I was leaving things unfinished between us. And by unfinished, I mean I was kicking myself because I’d never know how it feels to bury myself deep inside of her.
A knock sounds on the door, pulling me away from my thoughts. Before I can ask who it is, the door opens and my uncle struts into my office like the fucking powerhouse he is. Dressed in a custom-tailored suit, with his gray hair perfectly styled, he’s earned the title of the Dapper Don.
I straighten my shoulders and plaster a phony smile on my face.
Just keep faking it until you make it, Spinelli.
“Uncle Vic,” I say, smoothing a hand over my wrinkled jacket. I step around Joaquin and spread my arms wide. “To what do we owe the pleasure of this surprise?” I ask, pulling him into an embrace. I kiss one cheek then the other—a big fucking show of respect.
“You stink,” he sneers,