Hustle: Men of Inked: Southside #4

by Chelle Bliss

  LIFE HAS a way of putting things into perspective. You’re riding high one minute, and then the world slaps you in the face the next. It’s like the universe’s cosmic way of reminding you that happiness is fleeting and fickle, ready to be snatched away at a moment’s notice.

  We spent four glorious days soaking up the sunshine in the Caribbean and somehow didn’t stay in bed the entire time. Vinnie delivered on everything he promised and more. The man is a skilled lover, but there’s more to him once you start peeling back the layers.

  He lifts my hand to his lips as we wait at the stoplight just a block away from our building. “I wish we could’ve stayed longer.” He glances at me for a moment before the light turns green.

  I sigh, feeling the same way. I love Chicago. It’s always been my home. The loud sirens, endless traffic, and people moving around the city, dotting the sidewalks as they hurry to wherever they’re going.

  I push my head into the headrest, knowing these are the final moments of our intimate escape before reality comes crashing in again. “Maybe we can go back after your season is over.”

  Vinnie turns to me with a smile, his fingers now laced with mine. He gives my hand a small squeeze. “You’re not done with me?”

  I shake my head and laugh. “I guess I’m not.”

  He pulls into his parking spot in the underground garage, puts the car in park, and turns to me. “I don’t know how to say what I’m going to say. It’s like a foreign vocabulary and something I haven’t done since high school.”

  “Okay.” I draw out the word and stare at him with a confused look because he’s not making a ton of sense.

  “If I come off like a moron, cut me a little slack. You’re a writer and have a way with words, but I’m an athlete, and I usually use my body to show what I mean.”

  His body spoke volumes to me on the little island somewhere in the middle of the Caribbean.

  “You’re doing just fine.” I try to give him confidence.

  My words aren’t as eloquent as he thinks. I have editors who help me not sound like a complete idiot half the time.

  He reaches across the center console and grabs my other hand and is now holding both of them. He looks at me with his green eyes, a soft and warm expression on his face as he takes a deep breath like he’s preparing for something big. “I want you to be my girl, Bianca. I’ve danced around the topic and said you were mine in not so many words, but I want us to be a couple officially.”

  I turn my body to face him, my brown eyes to his green. I’m completely rocked by his statement. Ever since my abuela said Vinnie and I were meant to be together, he’s said he agreed. But I figured he was full of shit and saying what he thought I needed to hear for me to go all the way.

  The small bit I knew about Vinnie was that he was the quintessential athlete. A player on and off the field. Nowhere did I find any mention of him ever having a long-term girlfriend. He wasn’t a womanizer per his reputation or based on the comments I found about him on social media and from my limited experience with him. He was unapologetically a lover of women and didn’t make commitments before now.

  My reply hangs in my throat as my stomach does this weird flip-flop thing I describe so often in my books but have never experienced myself. “You want to be exclusive?”

  He nods and squeezes my hands gently. “I don’t want to see anyone else, and I want you all to myself.”

  I’m speechless, and that’s something I rarely experience. “You want to go steady?”

  Even saying the words is ridiculous. I’m immediately thrown back to high school when the boy I had the biggest crush on finally asked me out. I didn’t sleep with him first like I did Vinnie, and as with most high school boys, that had been his goal—not falling in love and living happily ever after.

  Vinnie nods. “Well,” he says and pauses as his cheeks turn pink, “I know I sound like an idiot, but I want you to be my girl. I want the world to know you’re mine too.”

  I squirm in my seat, and the car suddenly feels small and warm. My heart’s racing, and I’m ready to say yes because Vinnie Gallo has made the last few days feel like a fairy tale. But something stops me. My past always has a way of worming its way into anything good. “When was the last time you had a girlfriend?”

  He glances upward and grimaces. “Four—” he shakes his head “—no, maybe five or six years ago. I don’t know. I was in high school.”

  Vinnie’s the first person I’ve ever slept with that I wasn’t already in a committed relationship with. Every single one ended in disaster with my heart broken. Although I write romance and happy endings, I’ve never found one myself. With heartbreak after heartbreak, I started to give up on the possibility that I was destined to find love.

  Six months ago, after an awful and very public breakup, I decided I would not only swear off sex, but men and relationships too. It wasn’t hard since I rarely leave my place and never put myself in a situation where I’d be tempted into the bed of another man.

  The constant ups and downs of relationships made it impossible for me to write. It’s hard to write about a dreamy guy sweeping a woman off her feet, when in real life, someone’s busy stomping on my heart and making me feel like the most insignificant human being.

  “But now you think you’re ready?”

  He furrows his eyebrows, and I can see he’s hurt by my question. “Damn, Bianca. I didn’t ask without a lot of thought first.”

  “I’m sorry.” I feel like an asshole and rightfully so. He’s pouring his heart out to me, asking for me to be his girl, and I’m questioning him and his feelings.

  “Everything is different with you. I’m not going to lie. I wasn’t always the best when it came to women. Very rarely did I ever see someone twice.”

  “See” is his code for “sleep with.” Men like Vinnie don’t see people. They sleep with everybody, sowing those ridiculous oats and living the life of a playboy like it’s their job to spread pleasure to as many females as humanly possible in a short amount of time.

  “Why me? Why now?” I ask. I have verbal diarrhea and just can’t understand why he’s ready to become Steady Eddie at this point in time. He has a huge football career in front of him and could probably get any woman on the planet in his bed if he wanted.

  “That is exactly why.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Come again?”

  “Because you question everything. You’re not like most women I know. They would’ve said yes without asking why or even giving it another thought. You’re complicated, difficult, and argumentative. You don’t care who I am or what fame I might have. I think you like me for me, and the things I can do with my cock and tongue are just a bonus.”

  I give him a smile. “I do like you and not because of your cock.”

  He’s an expert lover. I can’t deny that. It’s like he’s spent a lifetime studying the best ways to please me and understands my body like no man ever has before. There was no coaching him on where to touch me to give me an orgasm. He just knew.

  “Then say you’ll be my girl. Just you and me. No one else.”

  “If you break my heart—” I start to say, but he releases one of my hands and places his fingers against my lips.

  “Don’t say it. I won’t break your heart, but don’t break mine either.”

  “How would I do that?”

  He slides his hand around to my neck as he holds me tightly, sweeping his thumb along my chin. “Listen, I didn’t date anyone steady because I wanted to be a player. I had my heart broken once in high school, and after watching my parents have a complicated relationship most of my life, I promised myself I wouldn’t go down the same path. I wanted to wait until I found someone I knew I could love. Someone who challenged me and didn’t just bend over backward to give me whatever I wanted. You’re not easy in any sense of the word.”

  I laugh. “I guess I’m not.”

  “Trust me, you’re not.” He smiles as he moves his thumb closer to my mouth, grazing my bott
om lip. “That’s what I like most about you. You’re not falling at my feet. I had to work my ass off just to spend time with you. You’re special, Bianca. I want you to know how special you really are. You turned my head with that attitude, and my feelings for you are already running deep. It would gut me if I had to see you with another man. Just say you’ll be my girl already. You know you want to say yes. Stop being so stubborn.”

  This is the time when I’d usually dig in my heels, trying to prove I’m not stubborn, while being the stubbornest of all. But I don’t want to be that way with Vinnie. I like the thought of him being mine just as much as me being his. I can’t lie or deny that fact.

  “I’m just scared, Vinnie. If you broke my heart, I’m not sure I could write another book for a very long time. My whole world would implode.”

  “What happens off the field affects what happens on the field. When my life is out of sorts, it shows in my performance. I’m putting myself on the line asking you this just as much as you’d be putting yourself on the line if you say yes. Relationships are a two-way street, baby.”

  The last few weeks have been wonderful, minus Susan and her sourpuss attitude about my new book. Vinnie’s given me something to look forward to each day, and if suddenly it were all to stop and he dropped out of my life, I would probably end up depressed and drowning my sorrows in the bottom of a half-gallon tub of ice cream.

  “I want to be your girl,” I whisper.

  He moves closer, turning his ear toward me, but I can see his smile. “Say that again.”

  “I want to be your girl, Vinnie.”

  The words aren’t even completely out of my mouth before his lips are on mine. When he kisses me, the world melts away. Everything that’s happened before no longer matters.

  Vinnie does that to me.

  “Thank you,” he murmurs against my lips before pulling away.

  “For what?” My voice is airy, almost breathless after the short but hot kiss he just laid on me.

  “For saying yes.” He licks his lips, and my eyes follow. “For being mine.”

  I know he’s not perfect, but this moment, sitting in his car and with the way he’s looking at me, is absolute perfection.

  “Can we just stay here?” I ask, not wanting to go back to the real world.

  I have a hellish deadline, and although I did get some words written while we were gone, they were nowhere near enough.

  “You have a book to finish, and I have a starting position to win.”

  “Adulting is overrated.”

  “We have a few more hours until I have to report to camp.” He quirks an eyebrow. “I could use a workout. You game, baby?”

  “Ugh. I don’t feel like running on the treadmill.”

  He smirks. “I wasn’t talking about going to the workout room.”

  I swallow hard, and the dull ache between my legs that always seems to be there when Vinnie’s around deepens. “Oh.” I bite my lip and push open the door. “You coming?” I swing out my legs, the cold concrete of the garage touching the bottom of my sandals.

  He’s out of the car before I’ve even stood upright. “I most definitely am and more than once too. Leave the bags. We’ll get them later.”

  “Someone’s in a hurry.”

  Vinnie places two fingers under my chin and snakes his other arm around my middle. “I’m in a hurry to bury myself inside you, but what I’m going to do with you is going to take time. Lots of time.”

  I grab his hand, extricating myself from his hold, and pull him toward the elevator. “Stop talking. You’re wasting time. Put up or shut up, Mr. Gallo.”

  I’m so focused on the ecstasy I know is about to happen, I don’t look anywhere else except straight toward the elevators. But when Vinnie stops, pulling me backward with his face pale, I know something’s off.

  “What’s wrong?” My eyes follow his and my heart sinks, and the dreamy love clouds I was just riding high on disappear. “What the…”

  The word WHORE is spray-painted in red across the hood of my car. My mouth hangs open as I walk around my car, seeing the same word on the back and sides.

  I’m shaking with anger, unable to stop walking in circles around my car when Vinnie reaches out and wraps his arms around me, stopping me. “We’ll get it repainted. It’s not that bad.”

  Not that bad? This is awful. In the grand scheme of things, sure, it’s not that bad. I mean, it would be worse to be shot or, hell, get the shit get kicked out of me. But there’s nothing nice about the rageful act bestowed on my car.

  “Who would do this?” Tears form in my eyes.

  “Maybe a psycho fan.” He holds me tighter. “Breathe, Bianca. It’ll be okay.”

  “Okay?” I motion toward the hood of my car and suddenly feel ill. “How is that okay?”

  “I’ll ask security to pull the footage, and I’ll call my guy to get your car fixed. Until we know who did this and why, you’re not to come down here alone.”

  I turn my head and gawk at him. “Excuse me? First, you have a guy?”

  “My dad’s friend. He specializes in cars, and he’ll get the job done quick and without any press.”

  “Fine.” I take a deep breath and focus on the next part of his statement that doesn’t sit right with me. “I’m not allowed to come down to the garage alone?”

  He tightens his arms around my middle as he places his mouth next to my ear. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Your car won’t be here for a few days anyway. Take a cab or call me or my family for a ride anywhere. Whoever did this is nutty as fuck, baby. Don’t play games with your life.”

  My body stiffens in his embrace. “You think I’m in danger?”

  I’ve heard about other authors having overzealous fans and stalkers, but I’ve been lucky and have never experienced anything even remotely close to this before now.

  “Yes. Promise me you’ll be careful and listen until we figure out what happened or who did this?”

  I still don’t like that he’s telling me what to do, but my father or brothers would say the same thing. I’ve always been fiercely independent, and listening to authority has not always been my strong suit.

  “I promise,” I tell him, but I hate saying the words. I hate that I’m suddenly a prisoner in my own home and at the mercy of some unknown threat.

  “I’ll keep you safe, and we’ll keep this out of the press. Let me handle everything.”

  Part of me wants to argue and tell him I’ll handle everything. But for once, I don’t want to go it alone. I want someone to lean on, and I finally have him.

  For once, I give in.

  24

  VINNIE

  I WIPE AWAY the sweat from my face as I listen to the voicemail left by the doorman at our building. The team workout went longer than I had anticipated, and I couldn’t wait to get back to the locker room to see if they’d found anything.

  “Mr. Gallo, we were able to pull the footage from the garage. It’s not as clear as we’d like, but it should help in finding the person responsible for the damage to Ms. Hernandez’s car. I’m texting it to you now. Please let us know what else we can do to help.”

  “That’s some scary shit right there,” Clarence says as he sits on the bench next to me, untying his cleats.

  I tap the screen, going to my messages before the voice mail ends. Anger builds inside me as the photo loads. I know the hair and facial profile immediately.

  “Fuck,” I hiss, clutching the phone so tightly, I’m surprised the glass doesn’t shatter in my palm.

  “You know them?” Clarence asks.

  I look down at Clarence, my body shaking with anger as I turn the screen so he can see her too.

  “Oh fuck. I told you that bitch was insane.”

  Tracie is on an entirely different level from anyone else I know. It’s one thing to bother me, following me around like a puppy dog, but it takes a truly sick person to do what she did. Coming after me is bad, but going after my girl or her property is a level of i
nsanity I can’t deal with and won’t accept.

  “That’s it. I’m done playing games. I don’t care who she is. I won’t allow this to go without consequences.”

  Clarence shakes his head. “I don’t envy you, man. She’s done some fucked-up shit while I’ve been here, but never anything like this.”

  I take a deep breath, trying to rein in my anger before I knock someone’s lights out. “Either they handle it, or I want off the team.”

  “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

  I level Clarence with my glare. “Should I just wait around with my thumb up my ass for her to hurt Bianca? What if she’d done this to Marquita?”

  “I don’t know, man. I don’t know.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow, but this shit is stopping now.”

  I don’t wait for him to reply before I stalk toward the coach’s office with the photo still on my screen.

  “Gallo,” he says before I’m more than two feet inside his office.

  “Coach. We have to talk,” I tell him as I clench my fists at my sides, trying to center my almost uncontrollable anger. “I want to be traded.”

  His head snaps back. “What?”

  “You heard me. Trade me. I’ll go anywhere.”

  “Absolutely not.” He shakes his head and walks toward me, waving his hands in the air like I’m off my rocker. “You’re going to be the starter this season. We’re building this entire team around you.”

  I shove my phone in his face with the photo of Tracie holding a can of spray paint as she fucks up Bianca’s car. “Tracie’s gone too far this time. You keep promising me she’s going to be taken care of, but nothing has changed. She’s worse now than she was before. I can’t work like this. I won’t work like this. I can’t have Bianca’s life in danger because Tracie’s allowed to do whatever she wants.” My voice is shaking as my anger over the entire situation builds. “Either trade me, or I’ll quit.”

  “Now, son,” he says as he places a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t do anything hasty. We’ll handle this.”

  “I’ve heard that bullshit promise before, Coach.”