“I’m more of a delivery type of service.” I tried to side step him. “I don’t babysit.”
“Please.” Tex’s eyes pleaded. “These men… I don’t trust them, not yet, and I need to be able to focus. You know I do. I’m having a hard enough time focusing with Mo in that damn dress.”
Dress? What dress?
I shrugged. “Fine, I’ll watch her for the night then I’m done, she can move in with Luca for all I care.”
Tex snorted. “That would be the day.”
“Don’t knock it till you try it.” I threw back the glass and set it on the table. “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go put on a cup… last time I wasn’t prepared for the kicks.”
“Kicks?”
“You really don’t want to know.”
I walked off down the hall with the sound of male laughter behind me, yeah he laughs now. Just wait. Bee was a freaking force to be reckoned with. I couldn’t wait to rid myself of her.
Right, just keep telling yourself that.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Sicilian Mafia rule number 8: When asked for any information, the answer must be the truth.
Tex
BLACK, BLACK, BLACK, BLACK, damn it! People were talking to me, touching me, offering me cigars, time at their vacation homes, their freaking daughters and all I could think about was Mo.
In that black dress.
Officially my favorite color of all time.
On her, and only her.
Being impassive when she was in the room was like denying the sun was shining. Deny it all you want, but at the end of the day you’re still going to get burnt if you don’t have sunscreen.
She was searing me.
“More wine?” Speak of the damn devil. Mo carried a bottle in one hand and a little tray of shrimp in the other.
“Lovely.” Frank Alfero winked at Mo. “You read my mind.”
“I try.” She smiled and offered us all food.
“My daughter.” One of the men whose name escaped me began chomping on the shrimp. “She is very beautiful.” He nodded. “Would make a good wife.”
“He’s married,” Mo said through clenched teeth.
“Oh…” The man held up his hand. “I meant no offense.”
“Of course.” Her smile was syrupy sweet.
“Mo.” Sergio walked up to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t you go put that down and get some food in your stomach.”
“Oh.” Her brows furrowed. “Okay.”
“I’ll take it.” Sergio sent her on her way and elbowed me while nobody looked. Bastard.
“An attentive spouse is hard to find.” The man lifted his cup to Sergio. Hell. No.
“Isn’t it though?” He tilted his head and walked off, which probably saved his life considering I was contemplating about a thousand different ways to strangle him with my bare hands.
“The Commission.” Frank cleared his throat. “Should be good for us old men to discuss the new bosses.”
“It should.”
They continued to talk, boring me to tears, I tried to appear interested. When the conversation shifted to the Nicolasi family I excused myself and went into the kitchen.
Mo was sitting on one of the barstools laughing while Sergio lifted a grape to her lips.
Was he freaking kidding me?
“Eat,” he commanded.
Mo rolled her eyes and took the grape from his hand popping it into her mouth. Good girl.
She reached for another one, her hand colliding with his. Bad girl, bad, bad, girl. Jolting back, she apologized.
“Never apologize for holding my hand,” he said sternly.
She wasn’t holding your hand jackass, she was reaching for a grape!
“You’re beautiful.”
What right did he have to tell her that? My blood boiled as he tucked a piece of hair, my hair, behind her ear and leaned in.
“Sergio,” I said in clipped tones. “Frank needs you.”
“You’re sure?”
“Go.” I barked.
Slowly, Sergio pulled away from Mo and walked by me, but not before bumping my chest with his shoulder. Yeah keep that up dude, we’ll see who ends up dead by morning.
Mo got up from the stool and started collecting dishes. Her dress hugged every angle of her body like a second skin. Then she bent over the counter, nearly sending me into a fit of hysterics as the dress rose to her ass.
“Mo,” I groaned. “You need to go change.”
Her hand hovered over some of the dishes, I could see every muscle in her body tense before she turned and shrugged a shoulder. “I like my dress.”
“That—” I pointed. “—is not a dress and you know it.”
“Oh yeah?” She turned fully to me, propping her hands on her hips. “What else would it be?”
“Lingerie?” I offered. “I mean if your goal’s to get every guy in this room salivating over you while I watch, then by all means go for it, but don’t come crying to me when one of them corners you and tries to rip that sorry excuse for a piece of clothing from your body.”
With a gasp she put her hands over her mouth, tears filled her eyes.
“Mo—” My voice cracked. “I won’t ask again. It looks… desperate.” Lies, all lies, she looked beautiful, and I couldn’t be in the same room with her, couldn’t even concentrate on breathing in and out if she was going to keep walking around like that. I was ready to murder any guy who looked at her, even the ones I knew that were half blind because of age.