Sadly, though, Violet wasn’t on the menu and it would be a while before I ate.
Oh, well, you know what they say—the best things in life are worth the wait.
Chapter 20
Violet Cabrera
“I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed a homecooked meal,” Rocco says as he bites into his third empanada. I smile as my lips touch the rim of my wine glass. While it’s a little sad that he can’t recall the last time he’s eaten something other than takeout, there’s a part of me that fills with satisfaction because I’ve given him a sliver of normalcy.
Something he so badly craves.
I thought maybe he was blowing smoke when he told me he needed me, that I made him feel more like himself and less like Victor, but there was truth to those words, and I discovered that much as soon as we pulled up to his house.
The fancy clothes and new car are small potatoes compared to everything else. This house is a monstrosity. I mean, let’s take the kitchen for instance—he’s got two ovens, a wine fridge, and a pantry that’s bigger than most studio apartments in Brooklyn. Don’t get me wrong, everything is beautiful but living in a house this big—all by yourself—that’s a lonely life.
I set my empty wine glass on the counter and stare at him for a moment. He surprised me tonight by showing me he can be vulnerable too. He must sense I’m staring because he turns his head. His eyes find mine and he reaches for a napkin.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
“I’d enjoy it more if I wasn’t eating alone,” he says, tipping his chin to my plate. “For someone who was craving empanadas, you’ve barely touched yours.”
I divert my gaze to the half-eaten empanada on my plate before lifting my chin and pushing my empty wine glass toward him.
“According to Ms. Beechers I have to lose ten pounds over the next two weeks to be considered for a spot in the company’s production and I much rather spend my calories drinking wine.”
He stops pouring the wine and narrows his eyes, letting them slowly rake down my body.
“Don’t give me that look,” I warn, taking the wine glass from him. “I know there is nothing wrong with my body.”
“Then what the fuck is this shit about having to lose ten pounds?”
I sigh.
“You haven’t been around many ballerinas have you?” He cocks his head to the side, and I laugh. “Of course you haven’t.” The idea of Rocco taking in the ballet is almost comical. “I don’t have the ideal body type to be a ballerina. My hips are wide and even though my tits are small, they’re twice the size of any girl in my company.”
“I’m not seeing the problem,” he says. “I’ve seen you dance, Violet, curves and all and the whole package is just fucking beautiful.”
I smile at that.
“In fact, I’ve got a newfound appreciation for the arts,” he adds, winking at me. “Now, it sounds to me like this Ms. Beechers needs to have her eyes checked.”
“She’s danced on stages all over the world,” I argue. “She knows what it takes to make it and I respect her opinion.” Well, that’s partially true. I also think she’s a bitter hag who can’t stand me for whatever reason, but I don’t divulge that much. The truth is as talented as I am, I’m not sure ballet was the best choice for me. I probably would be better suited for hip hop or even contemporary dance. Instead of losing ten pounds to fit in with the crowd and audition for a part I might not even get, I’d be working in music videos or some shit like that. Who knows I might even be a backup dancer for Lady Gaga. It’s not Lincoln Center but playing Vegas night after night isn’t a bad gig either.
“What’s with the look?” Rocco asks, drawing my attention back to him.
Exhaling slowly, I shake my head.
“Just having a moment,” I admit, twisting in my stool to face him. “For as far back as I can remember all I have wanted was to become a ballerina. I wanted to see my name in programs and dance on stages all across the world, but sometimes I feel chained to the choices I made. I don’t know if I’m just discouraged or if I’ve outgrown my dreams. Does that make sense?”
He silently reaches for his wine glass and I watch as he brings it to his lips, draining it in a single gulp. Setting it back on top of the counter, he turns to me.
“It makes perfect sense. Sometimes we think the grass is greener on the other side, then we cross over, and we realize we’ve been had.”
“Is that how you feel now?”
He looks at me for a moment, contemplating his response as he sucks in a deep breath and I instantly regret asking the question. Tonight isn’t about the mob or his regrets, it’s about freeing him from the heavy burden.
“Don’t answer that,” I say, laying my hand over his. His eyes meet mine and I lean closer to him, desperate to change the conversation. “So, you really like my empanadas?”
“They’re better than your mothers,” he says, lacing his fingers with mine.
“Oh, don’t let her hear you say that, or she might smack me again.” The words leave my lips so quickly that I don’t even realize what I’ve said until his fingers tighten around mine and his dark eyes drill a hole into the side of my head.
“What does the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he growls.
There’s no backpedaling when it comes to Rocco and to be honest, I’m tired of defending and protecting my mom. I take my wine glass but before I can bring it to my lips, he takes it out of my hand.
“Violet.”
Blowing out an exasperated breath, I force my gaze back to him.
“First, I want you to promise not to make a big deal out of this. It was just a slap across the face, I’m fine.”
His eyes widen at the last part of my sentence before they narrow into tiny slits and his hand curls into a fist.
“Why would she put her hands on you?” he growls, his jaw clenching with every word.
“Rocco, look, just forget I said anything. You’re making it bigger than—”
“Fuck that, Violet,” he shouts. “Your mother has been acting like a world class cunt ever since your brother told her he was going to be moving with me to Miami. She wants to hate me, that’s fine. She wants to push her only son away, that’s her choice too. But she doesn’t get to take that shit out on you. She doesn’t get to put her fucking hands on you especially after what you did for her.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t know that.”
“Maybe she should.”
“No,” I argue, shaking my head. “I appreciate the concern, but this is my problem. You know I’m starting to realize Joaquin has the right idea when it comes to our mother, I just have to figure out how to let go the way he has.” I pause for a moment. “I need to put space between us. Maybe it’s time I get a place of my own that way she isn’t in my business all the time.”
“Violet,” Rocco calls softly, and I turn my head. He opens his mouth to continue but his phone starts to ring. Muttering a curse, he pulls it out of his pocket, and I spot my brother’s name flashing across the screen. Before Rocco can decide if he wants to accept the call or not, I take it out of his hand and swipe my thumb across the screen. Rocco’s eyes flash with fury as I smile sweetly and lift the phone to my ear.
“Well, well, you can pick up the phone to call your friend, but your fingers seem to be broken when it comes to returning your sister’s calls,” I say into the phone.
Rocco raises an eyebrow and when Joaquin replies, I understand my mistake.
“Why are you answering Rocco’s phone?”
Shit.
“Before I answer that, why don’t you answer my question? I’ve been worried about you.”
He sighs through the line.
“Quit worrying, I’m fine.” I don’t buy that for a minute. His girlfriend died in front of his very eyes and he just laid her to rest. He’s alone in another state. No family, no friends. Not to mention his best friend is making headlines
. “Now, I’m going to ask you again, why are you answering Rocco’s phone?” he slurs.
Great, let’s add drinking to the list.
That’s always a sure sign that someone is fine.
“I bumped into him and started harassing him about you. Don’t worry, though, he’s still a prick and didn’t give me much.”
“You expect me to believe that?” Joaquin asks.
I don’t get a chance to answer him because Rocco snatches the phone out of my hand. Covering the speaker, he leans forward and his breath wafts past my ear.
“A prick, huh?”
“Well…”
“Go get undressed, I’ll meet you in the bathroom in ten minutes for that bath you promised me. We’ll see how much of a prick I am when I’m fingering you in the tub.”
My cheeks instantly flame and my thighs clench as he pulls away from me. Turning to him, he winks at me and presses the phone to his ear. I suddenly forget all about my mother, my brother, and my dancing struggles. All I can focus on is devilishly handsome man in front of me and all the filthy things he’s about to do to me.
Chapter 21
Rocco Spinelli
“Sorry about that,” I say into the phone as I step out onto the veranda that overlooks the inground swimming pool.
“What the fuck is my sister doing answering your phone?” Joaquin questions.
There is no mistaking the slur in his tone. I noticed he was hitting the bottle a little harder than usual when I was in Miami, but he had good reason and who the fuck am I to tell anyone not indulge when my best friends are Jimmy, Johnny, and Tito.
But I ain’t there to keep tabs on him and while I trust Omar and Manny, they’re not being paid to be Joaquin’s babysitters.
“Are you okay? You sound like you’ve been hitting the bottle a little too hard.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” he scoffs. I glance over my shoulder, through the French doors and watch Violet as she clears the counter and brings our dishes to the sink. Another one who can’t seem to follow instructions, I told her to get naked and she’s fucking cleaning the kitchen. “Why is my sister answering your phone, Rocco?”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I continue to stare at her. Now isn’t the time to tell him that I dismissed my entire crew to be with her tonight. That as soon as I hang up with him I plan on climbing into my clawfoot tub with her and sliding my fingers in and out of her sweet pussy until she comes all over my hand.
“I swung by the Academy to check on her and offered to take her out to dinner. She wanted to cook instead and since I’m not your mother’s favorite person we came back to my place.”
“Your place,” he repeats.
“Yeah, wait to you see this house, man. I think it’s bigger than Uncle Vic’s house. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with this place.”
Drunk and all the man sees through my bullshit, and asks, “When are you taking her home?”
If it was up to me I wouldn’t ever take her back there—not after she told me Flora got handsy with her. I don’t know what the fuck that woman’s problem is, but someone needs to sit her down and set her straight once and for all. I really don’t want that person to be me because growing up I had a lot of respect for her, but it’s like a fucking switch flipped, and she lost her goddamn mind.
“She shouldn’t be at your house, Rocco. You’re fucking hot right now. Your face is on every goddamn newspaper. People are watching you and they see Violet with you, they’re going to think the two of you are involved and then she becomes a fucking target. I won’t lose my sister to this shit too.”
He chokes on those last words and my throat grows dry.
“No one is going to touch Violet,” I grind out. “Not now, not fucking ever.” I’d fucking destroy anyone who tries. I’d burn down all of New York before anyone even got close. “You have my word on that. But she’s worried about you, man. She puts up a good front, but I know she’s still reeling from what happened.”
He remains quiet and I start to contemplate whether I should mention this new development with Flora or not. Joaquin doesn’t need any more shit added to his plate—to be fair neither do I—but I know I’m not going to let this go. I’m not that kind of guy.
“You still with me?” I ask, scratching at the scruff lining my jaw.
“Yeah, I’ll try to call her more often,” he says finally.
“That would be good, brother, because I’m fairly certain things aren’t great at home for her.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? They need money or something? I sent Vi—”
“No, nothing like that,” I say, cutting him off. “They’re just butting heads. I suppose I’m partially to blame, I’ve been popping up every chance I can to check on Violet, and we know how your mother feels about me.”
He grumbles something incoherent into the line and I continue, “Violet’s talking about getting her own apartment and with your permission, I want to set that up for her.”
The second Violet told me Flora smacked her, my first thought was that I’d move her in here with me. But I knew that wasn’t an option. Sure, I had plenty of rooms to spare, but I need to be careful where Violet is concerned. Too many things were up in the air. Too many men were coming and going through these doors and until I got a firm handle on my life as the boss of the Pastore family, I couldn’t have her living here.
So, setting her up with her own place is the next best thing as far as I’m concerned. There’s a nice new complex down by the ferry. The condos are pricey, but I need as many legit business ventures as possible and you can’t go wrong with real estate these days.
The more thought I give it, the more it sounds like the best solution.
“You want my permission to set Violet up with an apartment,” he slurs, bringing my focus back to him. I don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything least of all Joaquin’s. I’m doing it out of respect. “I vaguely remember Jimmy Gold having us shop apartments in Bay Ridge a couple of years back for his mistress.”
I narrow my eyes.
“What are you getting at?”
“I don’t know man, you tell me. I call you to give you the weekly numbers on Temptations and my sister answers the phone. Come to find out you and her are having a cozy dinner for two in your fucking new pad. Now, you say you want to get her an apartment because she and my ma are having issues,” he scoffs, pausing before he goes on with his rant. “If my sister needs a place to go, I’ll take care of it. In the meantime, why don’t you put this kind of effort into protecting your own sister? Gina probably already has a bullseye on her back.”
I’ve been real easy on him since losing Pilar, but I’m having a hard time remaining cool right now.
“How the fuck are you going to set her up with a place to crash when you can’t take care of yourself and you never answer her fucking calls?”
“Fuck you,” he spats. “You want to throw stones meanwhile I’ve been cleaning up your messes for the last couple of years. Every relationship you have is a disaster. Your sister hates you, your uncle is just using you as a pawn in his game, and now you want to drag my sister into that wasteland you call a life.”
“You know what—fuck this and fuck you. I don’t need your permission to do anything. I’m taking care of Violet and if you don’t like it then come for me, motherfucker. Peel yourself away from the bottle and grab your fucking balls, I’ll be waiting for you on Todt Hill.”
With that I disconnect the call. It takes every fucking ounce of self-control not to throw the damn thing into the swimming pool. Instead, I shove it back inside my pocket and walk toward the railing. Bracing my hands around the iron, I stare out at the sprawling backyard and draw in a deep breath.
Your sister hates you, your uncle is just using you as a pawn in his game, and now you want to drag my sister into that wasteland you call a life.
Someone once told me if you don’t like the way the world sees you, don’t change yourself, change t
he world. I don’t think my mother meant the underworld per say, but maybe it’s time I take that advice.
~*~
My conversation with Joaquin left me in a piss poor mood and instead of joining Violet in the bathtub, I decided to pop open another bottle of wine and poured myself a tall glass. The alcohol didn’t do much—it never does.
I wasn’t about to adhere to Joaquin’s warning—that much I knew. The decision was already made where Violet was concerned. Tomorrow, after my meeting with the Satan’s Knights, I was going to Uncle Vic’s realtor and after that, I was gonna play Flora a visit. It’s high time she and I clear the air. If that goes in my favor I might even pay Gina a visit.
It’s going to be a busy day—a hellish one too—but if a man is going to change the world, he has to start somewhere.
Making my way up the spiral staircase, I pull my dress shirt from the waistband of my pants and undo the buttons. I step into my bedroom and spot Violet’s clothes in a heap on the floor. Shaking my head, I bend to pick them up and lay them on top of the armchair in the corner. I shrug my shirt off and drape it across her clothes. I shuck my shoes off and peel down my socks. My fingers move to my belt buckle. Unfastening it, I pad across the lush carpet, meandering to the adjoining bathroom.
As soon as I push open the door, my eyes dart to the tub. Violet lifts her head and smiles at me.
“Well, it’s about time. The water is cold.”
Shoving a hand inside my pocket, I take another step closer, watching as the water rolls over her body in soft waves.
God, she’s a dream.
Clearing my throat, I pull my hand out of my pocket and bend to test the water. My hand wraps around one of her breasts and I roll my thumb over her pert little nipple.
“It is cold,” I say huskily, watching as her eyes become more hooded with every stroke of my thumb. “We should probably fix that, huh?”
Straightened Out (The Pastore Crime Family Book 1) Page 15