Shane (The Mallick Brothers Book 1)

by Jessica Gadziala

  Not quite understanding, I gave her a confused smile. “Of course I live here. I have burns from that freaking radiator that turns itself on whenever it damn well pleases to prove it.”

  “No, I mean… you crash here,” she explained. “You have your clothes and a couple kitchen essentials here, but that’s it. You don’t live here. When I first moved to New York when I was younger, I lived in a building like this- shitty neighborhood, shitty fellow tenants, shitty super who never kept the place up. But I lived there. My apartment was like my own little slice of sanctuary. It barely even looks like you plan on staying here through the weekend.”

  Well, she had a point there. I had tried to not get attached, to put down roots. I didn’t want to feel the pain if or when I had to yank them back out again. “This was a necessary evil,” I hedged. “When I first moved here, I barely had a couple pennies to rub together. This fit my budget.”

  “So you’re waiting to level up,” she said, nodding. “Makes sense. You have that ‘I can handle myself’ vibe, but no sane woman wants to live in this neighborhood if she doesn’t have to.”

  “I’ve lived in some crummy areas before, but not one where I can literally see prostitutes on a corner.”

  Fee laughed. “If you give it some time, you’ll get used to the strange power dynamic in Navesink Bank. You didn’t seem to miss a step when you heard what the Mallick family business is.”

  “Did you freak?”

  “Ah, no,” she said, twirling some noodles onto her fork. “I met Hunter when he was actively trying to get out of the family business. He just wanted to do the tattoo thing. But even if that was still his life, I don’t think it would have stopped me honestly. There was just something there, you know? I have a dark past and he met me during a pretty gray part of it. He saw me in some pretty unpleasant situations and it didn’t seem to bother him. I never had someone see all my ugly and be able to take it. It didn’t push him away. And I think that acceptance of it helped me to overcome it. Love can be funny that way. I never thought I would be that chick,” she said, shaking her head at herself.

  “What chick?”

  “That ‘love changed me’ chick. How cliche, right? Can I let you in on a little secret?” she asked, pointing her fork at me. “Women like us, the ‘I got this; I don’t need no man’ women? I think we get so busy living our lives that we aren’t paying attention to the concept of a relationship and the full force of love just completely blindsides us.”

  I felt my brows draw together. “I’m not in love with Shane. I barely even know him.”

  “I’m just saying,” she shrugged, letting it drop. “So, what is your color?”

  “I usually just go for a little black dress for this kind of thing.” In my humble opinion, one carefully chosen LBD could suit you for a multitude of situations. Date? Sure. Job interview? Throw a blazer on top. Funeral? Perfectly suited if you didn’t invest in the clubwhore sort of LBD.

  “I mean that’s always the go-to,” she agreed, scooping some rice onto her fork. “But don’t you think it’s sort of the safe bet? Do you really want to be the girl who plays it safe?”

  After so many years of fast and loose and dangerous, safe actually did sound kind of nice. “I’m open to suggestions. I just don’t want to look like I’m asking for it.”

  “I can do coy. Actually, I think that would knock Shane on his ass. He’s used to the bar sluts in their shorts that the bottoms of their asses hang out of.”

  “Any idea where he will take me?”

  To that, Fiona smiled a little oddly. “That’s the thing. Shane doesn’t take his women anywhere but his bed or theirs or maybe a hotel if they seem like the clinging sort. This is new for him. But if he’s trying to make an impression, in this town, yeah, he’d take you to Famiglia.”

  “Famiglia?” I laughed. “As in… family? That sounds like a mob bar.”

  “Close. It’s a mob restaurant,” she said casually, as if that was the most normal thing to find in some mildly coastal Jersey town. “Nothing illegal happens there though. That’s their legit place. It’s nice. Best Italian I’ve ever had and I was a take-away addict in the City so I know all about Italian. And it’s fancy. That’s where he would take a girl on a date if he has any taste. Which, despite appearances, he does.”

  “He’s going to bring a date to a nice restaurant on his bike?” I asked, smiling at the idea. “Does he even own anything other than jeans?”

  Fee smiled big at that. “See, I like the rough and tough and manly vibe. But let me tell you one thing about these Mallick men, when they clean up, they clean up good. I pretty much have to plan on having a quickie before we leave the house anytime Hunter needs to put a suit on. And Shane has a truck too. Nice big, black one. It should be fun getting up into it in a skirt and heels without flashing him or falling on your face.”

  “Love the vote of confidence,” I said, putting my plate on my nightstand, mostly uneaten. “Alright. So, I am your canvas,” I said, standing and throwing my arms out, turning in a small circle for her to inspect.

  Fee put her plate down and stood too, an almost shy smile on her face. “This really is as fun as they make it look in the movies,” she declared.

  Then she got to work.

  She really was something to see in action. She clearly knew more about clothes and what color went with what skin tone and what cut fit what body type better than I could ever learn in a lifetime.

  “You can’t be serious,” I said a good twenty minutes later.

  “This is the one. Trust me,” she said, holding a dress up to her body. The reason for my lip curl? Yeah, the dress was pink. “It’s not pink,” she objected when I had said just that. “It’s coral. And it is perfect for your skin tone and hair and eyes. Plus, it’s feminine without being all baby pink and obnoxious. Give it a shot. If you hate it, we’ll pick something else, but I think it’s the one.” I took the dress from her and moved into the bathroom, closing the door. “Lose the bra,” she called a second later. “The dress has support and I think your girls are still at the attention-standing stage.”

  I smiled, slipping out of my clothes (including my bra, though I never went braless), and shimmied into the not-pink dress. I took a breath and looked in the mirror. And, well, Fee definitely knew what she was talking about. The coral color really set off my slightly tanned skin and my dark hair and eyes. And while the skintight body con style had me a little anxious about the idea of loading up on Italian food with the unforgiving fabric, it did set off my boobs and hips. The straps were a little wider than I thought was in fashion, but I figured was made that way to give boob support. The bodice dipped into a somewhat deep, but thin, V that showed a bit of the skin between my breasts but not nearly enough to be called anything other than classy. Under my hips, the skirt slowly loosened into a handkerchief-style that fell to my knees. Everything about it was casually sensual, not overly sexual.

  “Alright, you’ve had long enough. I’m coming in.” Even as she said it, she was doing so, looking me up and down, a slow smile pulling at her lips. “I’m good,” she said with a nod. “Your tits and ass look great. Now, what are we going to do about heels? Black won’t work. White is tacky. Nude, I guess. I packed shoes, but I think your feet are bigger.”

  “I think I have a pair of nude heels. They’re nothing fancy, but they’re decent and all but unworn.”

  “Okay. Perfect. Hair and makeup?”

  “Well, I should probably shower first,” I said and she nodded.

  “I’ll leave you to that then. I am going to go out and grab coffee. Then I get to do your makeup. I’d do your hair, but I think it looks perfect in that half-wavy, tousled, bed-sexy thing you always do with it.”

  With that, she was gone before I could even tell her that I didn’t do anything with my hair. The way it dried was the way I left it. I stripped out of the dress, laying it over the door to my closet so it didn’t wrinkle, and showered, paying extra attention to shaving and for the fi
rst time in my life, kind of wishing I had a bunch of that body scrub and loafa crap that most girls had stored away somewhere.

  Forty minutes later, I was sitting in a towel, my hair slowly air drying around my face and shoulders as Fee bent in front of me, carefully applying a thinner layer of liner to my eyes than I usually did and a light coat of mascara. But only after she had curled them each four times. Yes, four.

  “I’m conflicted about the lip situation,” she said, going into her makeup bag and pulling out a natural pink shade. “But you’ll be eating first so it will be off before the end of the date when all the fun stuff happens.”

  “If,” I clarified.

  “Yeah, right,” Fee laughed, sliding the wand over my lips and making me blot. “There. Once your hair dries, it will be perfect.” Then, both perfectly timed and flawlessly ridiculous, Fee’s phone started ringing from her purse in my bedroom. And because it was Fee, it wasn’t any normal ringtone. No, it was a nineteen-seventies porno ringtone. Bow-chicka-wow-wooooow. “Twenty bucks says Hunter either lost one, can’t shut one up, or can’t figure out how to get nail polish out of kitchen tile,” she declared as she went to the other room to answer. “Hey… yeah. Oh, really?” she asked, looking at me, lips twitching. “Yeah, that’s quite a problem. No, I’m not laughing at you,” she said, but she totally was. “It’s not my fault that you let her get a hold of permanent markers, you know. They were in my office which should have been locked like I left it. Oh my God,” she said laughing fully then. “Yeah. Okay. I’m about done here. I’ll be home in twenty. Love you more,” she declared, hanging up and looking at me. “Okay, so no nail polish or screaming, but apparently Becca drew a rocket on Izzy’s cheek in red permanent marker that looks less like a rocket and more like a cock. So, yeah, I need to get home and get that off before anyone else sees her.”

  “Oh, the woes of modern motherhood,” I said with a smile.

  “I swear to God this shit only happens with my kids. We can’t go a week without a minor crisis. So, do you need anything else from me? Hair clips? Perfume? Condoms?”

  I laughed, waving her off. “I think the fishbowl you have full of them in the bathroom at work keeps all of us fully stocked.”

  “If you ever need any better birth control than that, I am not above loaning out Becca for the weekend. She’s scared away seven babysitters. Seven. If I keep going through them, every woman in this town is going to get her tubes tied.”

  “Lucky for you, she has four uncles and a set of grandparents that seem to have nerves of steel.”

  Fee smiled as she grabbed her purse and gathered her clothes again. “Don’t think it didn’t get back to me that you joined Becca’s Boys Stink Club. She said you might be old, but you’re pretty fun. Next time she pulls an Exorcist on a sitter, she just might be darkening your door,” she warned. “Okay,” she said, walking through my apartment and toward my door. “So relax. Don’t get yourself all worked up. Have fun. Enjoy the sex!” she called, closing the door behind her.

  With that, I had no more girly bullshitting to help prevent me from over-thinking. So I over thought as my hair dried, as I drank more coffee, then brushed the taste out of my mouth, as I rummaged for my nude heels, as I slipped into them, a pair of nude-colored cheeky undies, and finally… the dress.

  Which put me at about eight o’clock.

  Never being one to spend an entire freaking day getting dressed and usually just tossing on clothes, throwing in a mint, and heading out the door just shy of the time meant to meet someone, I paced my small kitchen until the ache in my ankles reminded me that the shoes, while pretty, were definitely sitting-down shoes. So then I sat down on the foot of my bed and waited.

  Luckily for me, Shane was punctual, saving me from further misery.

  I fluffed my hair, grabbed the clutch that Fee loaned me, shook the tension out of my shoulders, and made my way to the door.

  And Fee was right again; the Mallick men cleaned up nice.

  Shane, stupidly good looking in jeans and a tee, was downright sinfully attractive in black slacks and a black dress shirt. He had on black leather shoes but no tie or jacket. The only things he had on that weren’t black were the expensive-looking watch on his wrist and the statement belt buckle that he somehow managed to pull off. He had also bothered to shave and had on a slight hint of something masculine and spicy that made me want to bury my face in his neck and take a deep breath.

  “Fuck, baby,” he said, shaking his head as his eyes did a slow once-over.

  The words settled with a warm, liquid feeling in my stomach as I held my arms out a little wide and did a slow turn. “Was it worth all the prep?”

  “Didn’t need any prep to start with,” he said, moving inward, his hand going to the side of my hip as he back me against the wall. “But I sure as hell appreciate the effort.” Then, with that, his lips pressed down on mine, ruining the carefully applied lip gloss, but I didn’t care as my hands moved out to grab his arms. It wasn’t his usual brand of kiss- wild and demanding. It was softer, more explorative, just shy of gentle. And damn if my belly didn’t flip over with the sweetness of it.

  He pulled back way too soon, but just in time, leaving my lips feeling tingly and my eyes heavy. His hand stroked across my jaw as he pushed back and away from me, wiping the lip gloss off his face. “Alright, let’s get out of here before I say fuck dinner and take you to bed, “ he said, reaching out and putting a hand at my hip, leading me toward the door.

  We were almost out the door to the parking lot when he stopped and looked down at me.

  “What?” I asked when he didn’t say anything.

  “Figure if a woman like you is quiet, something is up,” he said, pulling open the door.

  “A woman like me?” I asked, brow raised, refusing to step through until he explained.

  “There it is,” he said, pushing into my hip and forcing me outside.

  “There what is?”

  “That ‘I’ll argue over anything just to prove a point’ shit. Relax,” he said when I opened my mouth to say something, “I wasn’t bitching. I actually like the spunk,” he informed me as he led me to the side of a truck that Fee was, yet again, right about. It was way too high to climb into with any semblance of delicacy. Shane bleeped the locks and opened the door for me, holding a hand out in a show of genuine, old school manners that I actually felt myself blush slightly at as I took his hand, and he assisted me up, allowing me to neither flash him or fall.

  He swung into his seat a moment later, turning over the car and reaching to turn down the radio that he left blasting on some late nineties alternative station, Nirvana crooning out of the speakers their haunting unplugged rendition of “Where Did You Sleep Last Night?” that never failed to give me shivers toward the end. I reached out and swatted his hand away, reaching for the knob and cranking it louder. Even with my eyes forward, I caught the smile he gave me before he backed out of the spot and drove us out of the crummy part of town.

  About ten minutes later, we pulled into a marina, boats of varying sizes from little fishing boats no more than two people could stand on to luxury yachts all parked in their slots, rocking softly on the tide.

  Famiglia was a raised navy blue building with a giant wrap-around deck overlooking the water it was situated over by the huge stilts it was held up by. Everything from the classy wooden sign to the dim interior lighting to the mass of luxury cars in the lot seemed to scream upscale.

  “I know,” Shane said, cutting the engine, “it’s weird as fuck to have an Italian place on the water like a seafood place, but that’s Jersey for ya’,” he added, climbing down and slamming his door. I barely had time to open mine before he was there, hand extended again. I was so distracted by the feeling of his hand holding mine that I wasn’t paying attention to where my heels were landing, one slipping off the edge of the step-up bar and making me start to free fall. For all of, say, two seconds before Shane’s free arm flew out and wrapped around my upper thighs. Meaning
, just under my ass. He slammed my body into his, knocking out my air for a second as he smiled up at me. “God, I love this fucking truck,” he said, looking devilish, as he put my feet onto the ground.

  “Well, now that we got the embarrassing part of the evening over with,” I said, trying to shake off the way my skin seemed to spark from the contact with his body, “let’s eat.”

  The inside of Famiglia had less of the sea vibe than the outside, sporting a long, dark wood bar with a wine wall behind it, all the bottles laying sideways so you could read the labels. The floors were dark, wide-planked, shining. The walls were painted a deep chocolate color and the tablecloths were not quite white but not quite beige either, but something in between. Music floated around the room, gently rising over the conversation, slow and bluesy, but in a foreign language. With a name like Famiglia, it wasn’t hard to guess it was Italian. The centerpieces to each of the intimate two-or-four seating tables were tiny little bay leaf plants in glass, understated and classy while hinting at the kind of food served. Toward the very back of the restaurant was a wall of intimate booths that curled into themselves with only small openings to enter and leave from, offering privacy.

  Really, it was the nicest restaurant I had ever been in in my life.

  “Shane Mallick,” Shane told the short, stacked, black-haired, olive-skinned hostess in a tight black dress.

  Her head snapped up a little, like the name meant something, before she gave us a smile. Well, she gave Shane a smile. I was ignored. I couldn’t say I was exactly the jealous sort, but it rubbed me the wrong way when someone eye-fucked the guy I was literally on the arm of. “Of course, Mr. Mallick. We have the booth you requested,” she said, gathering the menus and giving him another mega-watt smile. “Right this way please,” she said, leading us down the side near the bar toward the back wall.

  “Of course you’d request a booth,” I said with a pointed brow raise.