KYLE: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 4)

by Glenna Sinclair

  “Devon, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said slowly, trying just as hard to understand the situation as I was trying to make him understand what I was saying.

  “Which part?” he asked, cocking his head at me.

  “You don’t have to keep helping me,” I said. “Really. Once I’m back in Dallas, you don’t have to feel like you have to linger. We…had a fling in Hawaii. It was great—amazing, even. We helped each other through some sad times in our lives, but now we have to get going again. You know. Back to our own lives.”

  “June, this doesn’t have to be the end,” Devon said after a long pause. The sun was sinking lower and lower and I couldn’t help but wonder what it looked like down at Nana’s beach, glowing over the waves.

  “We’re two entirely different people,” I said. “We don’t have to force anything to work. We can be adults about this. We can agree to call it what it is—a fling.”

  “I’ve had flings before.”

  “So have I.”

  “This doesn’t feel like a fling.”

  In that magic light of an ending day, Devon’s eyes glowed with gold flecks I hadn’t noticed in them before. He looked at me without a trace of humor. He wasn’t kidding. I’d known him for long enough, studied his expressions, to realize when he was being serious.

  “I don’t know what this feels like,” I said.

  “Then we can’t just ignore it and go our separate ways,” he said. “It would be wrong to not explore this—whatever you think it is.”

  I had no idea what it was. I felt…something…deeply for the man beside me, the man who hadn’t taken his arm from around my waist this entire time. But there were so many differences between us that I didn’t know if we could ever overcome them—or to what end.

  “We’re from practically different planets,” I said. “I deliver pizzas, Devon. And you’re America’s boyfriend.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “I always hate it when they call me that.”

  “The point is that we’re probably too different for anything to work,” I sighed. “You have to know that.”

  “I don’t know any such thing.”

  “What are we, even, that I’d move in with you?” I tried, attempting to get some kernel of truth about our situation through to him. “Devon, you don’t just tell some girl you’re moving in with her after you hook up.”

  “You probably don’t even take some girl to Hawaii a few days after meeting her, without even hooking up first,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

  I sighed. Point completely missed.

  “June,” he moaned, laughing at me and drawing me down so he could kiss me. “I understand that what we have could be considered the absolute opposite of conventional, but it doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.”

  “But conventional in terms of what?” I asked, squirming away from him. “What are we, Devon?”

  “What do you want to be?”

  I shrugged at him helplessly. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what I want to be. Normal. Happy.”

  “Normal’s overrated,” Devon said. “Do I not make you happy?”

  “Right now, you make me very confused with a dash of frustrated,” I said. “Flummoxed, even.”

  “Tell me you don’t want to be with me,” he said, unwrapping his arm around my waist so he could hold both of my hands at once. “Tell me you want to go back to delivering pizzas in Dallas, living alone in Nana’s house. Tell me you want that for yourself, and I’ll leave you alone about it. I want you to be happy, June. I want that more than I thought it was possible to want things. But I don’t think Dallas is where you’d be happiest, especially not right now.”

  That was just the thing. I didn’t want to go back to Dallas—not now or ever. It hurt me to think of the house I’d grown up with standing empty, Nana’s clothes still hanging in her closet. It would be utterly painful to go back there even if I had to—and I did have to. The house couldn’t stand empty. The bills had to be paid and accounts closed. Things really did have to be packed up, because try as I might, I didn’t imagine myself continuing to deliver pizzas and living in Nana’s house.

  I just wasn’t sure that I imagined myself living with Devon Ray—and whatever else that might entail.

  “We can try it,” I said at last, earning myself a big smooch and a grin from Devon. At least one of us was sure of the whole thing. I only wished I could be, too.

  Chapter 8

  We left Hawaii the next morning, the private plane Devon had chartered rising higher and higher in the sky until the clouds obscured our view of the islands just below us. We sat side by side on the couch portion of the seating inside of the plane, the same place where he’d propositioned me on the flight over. At that point, I hadn’t had any idea just how drastically life was about to change for me. I’d been attracted to Devon then, sure, but I couldn’t have known how much I would lose and gain simultaneously in Hawaii.

  I would lose the woman who had made me into the woman I was today.

  And I would gain the companionship and affection of Devon Ray—whatever that was going to end up meaning.

  He began to loop his arm around me and stopped, making an irritable sound in the back of his throat.

  “What?” I asked, peering at him. “What’s wrong?” Had he remembered that he wanted to be with me when he was actually a super famous movie star who could be with anyone?

  “My stupid phone won’t stop buzzing,” he said, fishing around in his pocket until he found the offending device.

  “I thought you were supposed to turn that off as soon as the door was shut,” I said. “Are you going to make us crash?”

  “Oh, that’s not a thing,” he assured me. “It’s all perfectly safe.”

  “Well, don’t you think you ought to take the call, if your phone has been buzzing this whole time?”

  “It’s just Chaz,” Devon mumbled.

  “Your agent. Haven’t you told him you’re coming back? Isn’t it his job to know where you are and what you’re doing?”

  “You’re the Hollywood expert,” he sighed, and slid his finger across the phone’s display. “What is it, Chaz?”

  I could hear the voice on the other end of the line—tinny, far away, and very angry.

  “What the fuck do you think it is, Devon?” he demanded. “Where in the sweet Christ are you? Where have you been? Your stock here is going down, my friend, and there’s not a lot I can do about it.”

  I cringed and made a face. This sounded like a conversation that was best had in private. I tried to sidle away, tried to take one of the leather seats away from the couch to give Devon a chance to sort out his dirty laundry, but he snagged my hand and kept me on the couch.

  “I’ve been in Hawaii,” Devon said.

  “Going to rehab, I hope,” Chaz barked. “You’re supposed to let me take care of things like that for you, Devon.”

  “Wrong,” Devon said easily. “That’s what my personal assistant’s for.”

  “If you had a personal assistant.”

  “It wasn’t rehab,” Devon contended. “I went on vacation. To take some time out for myself. And to do something nice for a fan.”

  “I hope by ‘nice’ you don’t mean you put your cock in it.”

  Devon flinched. “Chaz, don’t be a dick.”

  “It’s what you pay me for, Devon. To tell you like it is. And I’m not going to sugarcoat this—Trina is coming out way on top of this breakup. You look like an ass. Like a sad ass. A loser ass.”

  “Thanks so much, Chaz,” Devon said sarcastically. “Great feedback. And a breakup isn’t something you can win.”

  “It absolutely is something you can win,” Chaz said. “The reason I know that is because Trina’s winning it and you’re losing. Haven’t you seen anything online?”

  “I’ve been off the grid,” Devon said, drawing little designs on my hand with his finger as I sat beside him, rigid and awkward. I really, really didn’t want to be hea
ring any of this. “And I’m not really interested in thinking about Trina anymore. It’s over. I’ve moved on.”

  “You’ve been hiding in Hawaii,” Chaz said. “That doesn’t sound like moving on to anyone. That sounds like you ran away and hid.”

  “Chaz, it’s been great talking to you,” Devon said, patting my knee comfortingly. “But I really have to be going. Other calls to make.”

  “You better be on the ground in LA tonight,” Chaz said. “You have a photoshoot in the morning that I’ve already rescheduled three times.”

  “Then you know just what to do to reschedule it again,” Devon said, implacable. “I’m not going to LA.”

  “And just where in the fuck are you going?”

  “Dallas.”

  “Dallas? What the hell is in Dallas? You were just in Dallas. You didn’t go to any of your appearances. Will you go if I reschedule them? No, never mind fucking Dallas. Reroute the plane. Let me speak with the pilot. You have to come back to LA now. This instant.”

  “Good-bye, Chaz.” Devon ended the call and looked at me. “What?”

  I didn’t know what expression I had on my face, because I didn’t think I had one that would effectively convey the horror I felt at listening to all of that.

  “Is he always like that?” I asked meekly.

  “Always like what?”

  “Like a dick,” I said. “Why do you let him talk to you like that?”

  Devon laughed. “I pay him to talk to me like that. Chaz is a real bulldog. He helped muscle me into my first few roles. I wouldn’t have a career if not for him.”

  I took a few minutes to process that. “You wouldn’t be where you are today if it weren’t for some jerk-off being an asshole to you?”

  Devon laughed harder. “Oh, he’s going to love that. I’ll have to text it to him later.”

  “Wait, you’re actually friends with the guy?” I stared at him, aghast. “Devon, that’s an abusive relationship.”

  “You really have to get to know Chaz,” Devon assured me. “He has my best interests in mind. He might be a little rough around the edges, but he’s harmless.”

  “He doesn’t sound harmless,” I said, while realizing that I was more miffed by the fact that Chaz and Devon had been discussing Devon’s ex-girlfriend than anything. I was only just now realizing exactly who she was, with swiftly growing horror.

  “You’ll get used to him,” Devon was saying. “June? What’s wrong? Do you want me to—are you going to be sick? Should I get a bag?”

  I really did feel like vomiting. “Trina Henry? That’s who you were dating?”

  His face went carefully blank before he shrugged. “Yeah. We were together.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I should’ve googled this long ago, figured out the mystery of the breakup that had left Devon miserable and drunk and disorderly in a Dallas hotel room. As much as Nana loved the man, and as big a fan of his movies as she was, neither of us kept track of the actor’s personal life. I couldn’t keep up with who was dating whom in Hollywood. I didn’t care to.

  I should’ve cared, though, when it came to Trina Henry.

  Trina Henry was the human manifestation of a Barbie doll, more limbs than trunk, perfect platinum-blond hair, and sky-blue eyes always perfectly accentuated with the right makeup or jewelry or outfit. It was my firm belief that the makers of the Barbie doll somehow found a way to travel in time and model the toy off of Trina Henry—all lanky, gorgeous, and full of spunk and possibility. She defied typecasting, acting in everything from action to romance, horror to indie. People wanted to work with her because she was pretty and talented—two things that didn’t go together very often anymore.

  She’d acted alongside Devon Ray, and it was apparent the sparks that flew between the two onscreen continued to give heat off it. Until a certain point, anyway. They broke up, after all.

  I should’ve known about Trina. I should’ve looked it up before I even got on the plane with Devon and Nana. If I’d done that, then maybe I never would’ve let myself be beguiled by Devon’s charms.

  There was no way I could ever hold a candle to how amazing Trina Henry was. If I’d known that she was the one who’d been with Devon before, it would’ve quelled any feelings, any pining I would’ve had for him.

  There wasn’t any rebounding from Trina Henry. Devon had to know full well that he’d reached the pinnacle of his love life with her. Maybe that was why he’d been so shaken and upset, hiding out in Dallas.

  “June, seriously. You have to explain what you’re thinking about. All I’ve been going on for the past five minutes is your facial expressions, and I’m frankly a little terrified.”

  Devon was staring at me. I had to find my words.

  “I didn’t realize you were with Trina Henry,” I said.

  “That makes exactly one person in the entire world,” he grumbled. “June, everyone knows Trina and I were a thing.”

  “Not everyone,” I said. “I kind of had better things to do with my time than to monitor your love life.”

  “I wish the Internet was as kind,” Devon retorted. “Well, it’s not a thing anymore. It’s over.”

  I shook my head. It wasn’t over. It was just beginning. Maybe he didn’t realize it yet—that he’d never have anyone as good as Trina.

  “June, are you listening to me? It’s over. Done.”

  “She’s just…she’s just really amazing.”

  Devon laughed, short and sarcastic. “I’m happy to hear you’re a fan of hers.”

  “Listen, when we land in Dallas, you should just taxi back to the runway and go home,” I told him. “I’d save you the trouble of even landing if this damn plane came with parachutes. This isn’t going to work between you and me.”

  He squinted at me. “Because I dated Trina Henry?”

  I threw my hands up. “How can I ever compete with that? I can’t. It’s laughable that you’re interested in me. A joke.”

  “How can I convince you that you’re incomparable, June?” he asked me. “What is it going to take to make you understand that your self-worth shouldn’t be measured against other women? You’re amazing. You’re beautiful. You’re a good person. What’s it going to take for you to get it?”

  His vehemence made me shrink away from him. “Sorry,” I said, sheepish. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve never dated a famous Hollywood actor before. You’re going to have to give me some time to adjust.”

  Devon’s look softened, and he took my hand. “I know it might be a culture shock, at first, but you have to give yourself credit, June. Why can’t you see yourself the way I see you?”

  I shook my head, eager for this conversation to be over. Devon could try and be sweet all he wanted, but the truth would remain that I was the next girl he’d been with after Trina Henry. What did that even mean? To purge her perfection from his psyche, did Devon need someone slovenly, like me? I wore clothes with food stains on them, for pity’s sake. I still got pimples even though I was well beyond puberty. I’d been living with Nana, which was, God love her and keep her, the very opposite of sexy and interesting.

  I felt less certain now than ever that being with Devon was a good idea, let alone living with him in Malibu. Maybe there would be some way I could try to convince him to leave me in Dallas and get on with his glamorous life.

  But when the wheels touched down and we climbed in a sedan Devon commandeered from a chauffeur, everything came rushing back to me. I was grateful that someone was with me to face down this monumental task, and even more thankful that it was someone I knew cared about me.

  I had to face Nana’s death all over again when we pulled open the door of the house, her perfume still lingering on soft surfaces and blankets.

  “It feels like we were all just here, setting up the Blu-ray player,” Devon remarked, his voice hushed, as if we were in a tomb or something.

  “We can probably still return it—and the movies,” I said.

  “I really don�
��t care about the money, June,” he said, sounding offended. “Even if I knew what was going to happen ahead of time, I would’ve still bought it for Nana. You saw how happy it made her.”

  My shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying. I can’t—I’m really glad you’re here with me. I wouldn’t have been able to do this alone.”

  Devon pulled me into a rough hug and planted several kisses on the top of my head.

  “I’m just happy I can be here to try and help,” he said.

  And help he did—from coordinating with his lawyer to helping find a realtor to carrying boxes out to the car to donate to the nearest shelter. It pained me to part with Nana’s things, but I knew she would’ve wanted them to go toward helping someone who really needed it. It would’ve been selfish to keep all her things in storage, just so I could wallow in material comfort.

  The one thing I did keep was her perfume. If I couldn’t have those fragranced cardigans and blankets, I could, at least, have the fragrance. I put a dot of it behind each of my ears, having watched Nana do the exact same thing for years. I looked up to catch Devon watching me and smiling.

  “You’re going to be okay,” he said. “You know that, right?”

  In Hawaii, on that beach where we poured out her ashes, I hadn’t been so sure. But with the last piece of furniture moved out and the for-sale sign hammered into the front lawn, I had a sense of hope that was quickly overpowering my sense of melancholy. Maybe it was a resigned hope, a realization that I couldn’t be sad about Nana forever and that things would have to start getting better eventually, but I’d take it.

  “This place is going to make someone really happy,” I said as we locked the front door for the last time. “Maybe a young family is going to get their start here. I hope their time inside is as happy as mine was.”

  Devon kissed me, his lips soft against mine. “Don’t you see now?” he asked gently. “Why I think you’re so amazing?”

  “Because I’m barely holding it together?” I asked, blinking back tears. “It’s hard to let this old place go.”