by TARA GALLINA
Birds fly over my head, their happy chirps making me want to shoot them out of the sky. Yes. It's a shitty thing to contemplate but doing it would be much worse. They just sound so damn happy, and they can fly wherever their feathered wings will take them. Me? I'm stuck in The Life—a life of crime—by association, by birth, and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.
There was a time when I didn't give a fuck, actually thought my lineage made me better than other people. I was young and ignorant. At twenty-two, I know better and enough to know The Life isn't for me.
My blue Maserati gleams in the sun. I used to love the car, thought it made me cooler and better than everyone else—the trend of my youth—now it's another symbol that I'm owned. My father bought it for me like everything he buys in life. I could buy a different car myself. I should. I make enough money through the auto body shop I own. Three years ago, I won the business from my uncle in a pool game, which pissed the hell out of my father.
"A bet is a bet," my uncle reminded his brother-in-law when my told me to give it back. One thing about being a Gianni that holds truer than a blood oath is your word. At least in my father's eyes. "Your word is all you have in this world. Either you stand by it or make a liar out of yourself."
A liar is the worst betrayal in my father's eyes. Ironic given his business includes laundering money and various other crimes that involve lying to anyone who can take him down.
I stop beside my car door, unlocking it and climbing inside. A blast of heat hits me. Before starting it up, I stop and get out to do something I haven't done in a long while. I don't even know why I’m doing it now, other than my father's last threat and the new paranoia buzzing inside me.
I pop the hood and check the engine for any foreign devices. Hiding explosives under the car isn't my father's style, he prefers to have them tucked neatly within mechanical parts making it less detectable. Too bad for him, as his son, I know all his tricks. Nothing.
Didn't I know there wouldn't be anything to find? I have Carlos, the manager of my auto body shop, sweep the car weekly. I’m an idiot for letting my father get to me like this. I know better—or at least I thought I'd learned how to deal with the overwhelming rage that comes whenever he and I speak these days.
Tension knots in my shoulders and neck. The familiar tightness seems to linger there day and night. I rub the muscles and roll my shoulders a few times before closing the hood.
I head for the door to get back in and take off but stop when a familiar blue Mercedes pulls up behind my car. I kick the driver's door shut and stalk over.
"What do you want?" I bend to look in the car through the rolled down window on the passenger side.
Marina, my fiancée by force, a girl who I used to think was hot and a prize my father chose for me, leans over so I’m staring down her cleavage. Her tits are as fake as everything else about her. "We need to talk."
"No, we don't." I cross my arms and straighten.
She gets out, standing in-between her door and the car, and peers over the roof at me. "Don't be a dick, Sebastian."
"I am a dick."
She grunts and rolls bright blue eyes, thick with black liner and fake lashes. "I'm serious."
"So am I."
"My dad talked to your dad today."
"Shocker," I say dead-pan.
"They both agree you need to get over this—whatever it is you think you're doing—and get back to normal."
"Normal being you and me pretending to want to be engaged?" I arch a cocky brow.
"Not pretending. We are engaged. We will be married. You can't stop it from happening. Not even by breaking up with me."
Our relationship was as fake as our betrothal, my father's word.
She makes puppy dog eyes at me and puckers her plumped-up lips, courtesy of a plastic surgeon. "Don't you want things to go back to the way they used to be?"
She's referring to how we were when we first got together. We got along okay for about six months. We had a lot of good sex, but it was soon clear we had nothing else in common. I stuck it out for six more months for the sex and even that got old. She was always so fake, acting like we were making a porno instead of enjoying herself or showing any true reactions or emotions. The following year we were a couple by label only. She had her life and friends, and I had mine.
"No," is the only reply I give her.
She curls her shiny black hair around her finger. "If memory serves me correctly, you liked being a couple once."
"I liked my father once too," I throw out and turn for my car.
"You're an asshole," she shouts.
I pivot and raise my hands with a wry grin. "And you wonder why I don't want to get back together?"
"Fuck you, Gianni," she spits and gets in her car. Tires squeal as she peels away and drives out of the parking lot.
My phone vibrates with a text. I consider not looking, certain it's something nasty from Marina.
I pace alongside my car for several moments, before finally giving in.
A picture of Marina's pierced nipple flashes on my screen.
If you want this come and get it. You know where I'll be.
The chick is insane. I don't bother responding.
Another text comes in.
Ignore me and I'll cry to my daddy about you.
Fuck. If she cries to her daddy, he'll call my father and then my father will get on me about this, even more than he already is.
I lean against the driver side door debating what to do, respond to appease her, which is what she wants—even a negative response is a response—or deal with her later. I'll have to deal with her at some point. She won't give this up. Marina has and will always get what she wants.
Chapter 3
Movement at the rear of my car catches my gaze. I turn my head and connect with a pair of pale green eyes.
"You again?" What does this chick want now? Can't she see I'm dealing with some shit?
Her bottom lip falls a little bit as she stares up at me in wonder. I'm no stranger to girls eyeing me like I'm their wildest fantasy. They love me, my face, my body, and the rumor fueled bad-boy persona that I never strove to achieve for myself. That isn't how she's looking at me though. Surprise and awe show in her innocent eyes. Why?
"Can I help you?" I ask when she doesn't do more than stare.
"Um …?" She clears her throat and blinks, seeming flustered all of a sudden. "I’m not following you. I’m parked next to your car." She nods to the right.
I glance behind me to a beat-up old Jetta that looks like it belongs in a junk yard. "Did you need something?" I ask. "A jump?"
I'd be amazed if that would get the beater to start.
"No. Nothing like that. I, um …?" She trails off again and a pink blush touches her cheeks. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry one more time."
I don't think she's here to say that. Among the many lessons my father insisted I learn, profiling was at the top of the list.
"Son, you need to study body language and learn how to tell when someone is lying to you. It's important in this lifestyle to always be on guard. Never trust anyone, except for yourself and your honed instincts."
When this girl talks, she can't seem to make eye contact, despite that she was staring into my eyes like she couldn't look away less than a minute ago. That and her blush means she's nervous. Why now when she wasn't nervous at all in the hallway? Something has changed.
"Don't worry about it," I respond in a curt tone, hoping she'll take the hint and get lost. She's distracting me, again. It's the last thing I need right now. When she doesn't move, I add, "Did you need something else?"
I can't back out of the spot with her standing there. If I get in my car, she might take the hint.
Before I can open my car door, my closest friend and confidant appears out of nowhere, a shit-eating grin on his face. Great.
"What's up, man?" Nathan says to me, but his eyes are locked on the blonde standing at the rear of my car. "Who's your friend?
"
"She's not a friend," I'm quick to say, knowing my tone will be hint enough for him to understand I'm not in the mood. Not that it's ever stopped him from doing what he wants, and by the way he's checking out the girl, it's obvious he wants her.
"Why not?" Nathan asks, ignoring my attitude. Why am I surprised?
He extends a hand to the girl. "Hi. I'm Nathan, and I’m not as pissy or as particular as the asshat beside me."
I fight a grin. The fucker knows exactly what he's doing. Hitting on her to see if he can get a reaction from me—any reaction other than my brooding. I swear the guy is never in a bad mood. If I didn't trust and respect him as much as I do, I'd get in the car and end his game to fuck with me, but Nathan means more to me than most people—maybe all people. He knows my dark shit, doesn't judge me for it, and never lets me wallow. Not if he can help it.
"It's nice to meet you, Nathan," the blonde says in her sweet, raspy voice. "I'm Ainsley."
Ainsley, I say in my head. Interesting name.
At the same time, Nathan says her name out loud as if he's thinking the same thing.
It's not a common name.
"Ainsley," he enunciates, as if trying the word out on his tongue. "Cute name, even cuter girl."
I can't help but notice the slight twitch in her nose. Either she caught a whiff of something fowl, or she doesn't like being called cute. My guess is the latter.
Nathan elbows my arm. "You better not let Marina catch you talking to someone this sweet."
What the hell? Why is he bringing her up? Did he see her with me not long ago or did she contact him beforehand, trying to track me down? Wouldn't be the first time.
Ainsley perks up. "Is that your girlfriend?" she asks in a tone that suggests she already knows the answer.
"That's a good question," Nathan says with sarcasm and pats me on the back. "My man here, isn't always clear on that topic. He's going through some changes. A little spring cleaning of his life. Isn't that right?"
"Shut up, dick." I shrug him off and laugh, unable to help myself. The goading motherfucker knows exactly what to do to chill me out.
I glance over and am struck by Ainsley's expression. Once again, her bottom lip hangs a little low and her eyes are wide on me with amazement, like I’m some kind of fucking unicorn. Seriously? What's with her?
"So, Ainsley?" Nathan says. "We're having a party at the house tonight. I think you should come."
A girl like her at one of our parties? Not a good mix. I bet she'll say no.
"Tonight?" Her timid voice is answer enough for me. That'd be a no.
"Do you have plans?" Nathan flashes her one of his charming grins. It's never failed him before, but I think in this case it will.
"I have to work," she replies.
Knew it.
"So, cancel," Nathan pushes her.
Her cheeks turn pink again. "I can't cancel. I’m a private nanny."
Nathan's brows go up, and I know what he's thinking before he opens his mouth. Don't do it.
"Nanny," he says in a seductive tone. "That's sexy."
Ainsley giggles. "No, it isn't."
I chuckle too. What the hell is Nathan doing, besides burying any chance he could have with this girl?
I shake my head and consider telling my boy to give up. Instead, he invites her to a party the next night and the next. If he were anyone else, he'd come across as desperate, but Nathan has a way of making girls feel special. He's the biggest player I know, and yet they never see him coming. I can scare a girl away with just a look, maybe not this one for some reason.
My gaze finds its way over to the cute blonde, just as she agrees to come to the party.
What the hell? I had her pegged as a no-show. Am I losing my skills to read people or is it just her?
"I don't like going places without a friend," she adds. "Would you mind if I bring someone?"
"Not at all." Nathan beams like he just won a wrestling match. "Bring whoever you want. The more girls the better."
I raise an eyebrow at her need to bring a friend. Too frightened to come alone or is she being safe? Safe, I bet.
She glances over and catches me studying her. If she thinks I’m checking her out, she's wrong. Her nose crinkles, and she turns her body away from me a little, shielding her torso with her large bag.
So, I do make her nervous.
"Knock it off." Nathan backhands my arm.
"I don't know what you mean." I smirk, feigning ignorance.
"Ignore him," Nathan tells the girl, but it's like she can't.
Her gaze lands back on me. Anger brims in her eyes, darkening the green. She hates me, thinks I'm a dick. It's written all over her face. I curb the urge to roll my eyes. They either love me or hate me, though it's rare for them to hate me until after we've had sex and they realize I'm not interested in more.
They always think it's because I'm hung up on Marina, and I let them because it's easier than telling them how I'm not into long-term. It's not in my DNA, and even it if were it'd be a waste for me to fall for a girl who could never be more than second to Marina and the family business.
Ainsley's gaze shifts to my lips. Her tongue peeks out her own. I know that look. She's thinking about kissing me—and I'm shocked.
This girl is the opposite of me. She should be afraid to get close to any part of me. Unable to stop myself, I lick my lips and run a thumb across the bottom one.
"Do I have something on my mouth." I taunt her with a smirk. "You're staring like I do." This ought to send her running.
She touches the corner of her sexy mouth. "You had a little food right there, left over breakfast maybe, but you got it."
Laughter bursts from my chest with unexpected force. This sweet, innocent-looking girl just threw my own joke back in my face. What are the odds?
"You're funny," I say, shocked again by her reaction to me. This never happens.
Her face falls like I insulted her.
"Cute and has a sense of humor," Nathan says, reminding me he's still here. "That's a killer combo." He winks at her and her cheeks light up like a red stop light.
Her smile, however, is more forced than pleased. She averts her gaze and her shoulders curl in like she's insecure or shy or both. Unreal. She has my attention and Nathan's, yet her body language says she's unsure as to why we're talking to her at all. I've never been so mystified by a female in my life.
She pulls out her phone to read a text. As her eyes scan the screen her posture sinks even lower. The lack of confidence she displayed moments ago changes into a reaction of pure horror.
The sudden urge to comfort her hits me with the power of a high-speed train. I have to force my feet to stay in place. Why on earth would I want to comfort her? She's nothing to me, and I’m not the soothing type.
She's also unlike anyone I've ever known. Girls like her don't run in the same circle as me or even Nathan for that matter. We attract the naughty type looking to get wasted or for a good time or both. They reek of confidence, entitlement, and beauty—not that this girl isn't beautiful, just in a different way than I'm used to.
Again, I'm left questioning why a chick like this is even talking to us, and, worse, why I want to suddenly kill the person who sent her that text.
Chapter 4
Nathan shoots me a concerned look. I shrug and nod for him to do something.
He steps closer to Ainsley and asks, "Are you okay?"
"Yes." Her body rattles with what I assume are silent fits of tears since I can't see past that wall of hair surrounding her face.
Now, I really want to murder the person who sent her the text. I ball my hands into tight fists and remind myself this girl and whatever she's going through isn't my problem.
"Should we call someone for you?" Nathan tries again.
Thunder rolls in the distance, drawing my gaze to dark clouds on the horizon.
"No." Ainsley straightens her shoulders and pushes her hair behind her back. Tears swell in those eyes makin
g them look like pools of crystal water. Does she know the color turns bluish when she cries?
She proceeds to tell Nathan she lost her job, which blows my mind. A regular occurrence with this girl. The loss of a job can't have upset her to the point of tears. She's young, can't be any older than a freshman or sophomore. I'm sure she can get a job somewhere else.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Nathan asks in a tone so soothing, I suspect she draws this protective nature out in all guys.
"Find me a new job." Sarcasm joins the sadness in her tone.
Nathan's entire demeanor brightens. "Today must be your lucky day," he says, and I silently curse him for what he's about to do.
I glare in his direction.
"What?" He feigns innocence and slings his muscular arm around my shoulder, just to annoy me more.
"Don't even think about it," I warn with a shake of my head.
"Why not?" he asks like what he's about to propose isn't the worst idea in the world.
"Don't think about what?" Ainsley blurts, her gaze on me.
Ignoring her, I pull out my phone to check for new texts from my father or Marina and jerk my shoulder for Nathan to get off. He's fucking with me so hard right now because he knows I won't retaliate with brute force. He's too good of a friend.
Keeping his arm around my shoulders, he says, "My boy here is looking to hire someone."
"No, I’m not," I grind out. A little retaliation can't hurt.
"Come on." Nathan squeezes my shoulder, trying to jostle me but fails. "She needs a job. You have a job. I don't see what the problem is here."
"The problem is, it's not for her. She wouldn't fit in." I shrug off his arm, putting muscle behind it this time, pissed that he's pursuing this still. I don't want to be a dick to this sad girl but what the fuck is he thinking? He knows the rules that come with my family, and why outsiders are a bad idea.
"Why wouldn't I fit in?" She steps toward me, a note of spunk to her voice.
Well, I'll be. For someone as little and unsure, she's not afraid to challenge me. I don't look up from my phone afraid my amusement will show on my face.