Booze and Bullets (Brooklyn Brothers #3)

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Booze and Bullets (Brooklyn Brothers #3) Page 13

by Melanie Munton


  He offered a crooked grin.

  Then I started a grinding motion against that rock-hard length, and his face crumpled in a mixture of pleasure and agony. He immediately took advantage, pinning me against the car so hard I could barely move. Our labored breathing mingled with the sounds of cars driving above our heads, horns honking, music blaring.

  He fucked me—feverishly—through our clothes.

  It was the hottest, most wickedly erotic thing I’d ever done.

  His thrusts became so savage I couldn’t help but imagine what it would have felt like if he had been inside me. He would have been so deep.

  Moments later, he roared his release into my neck with one final jarring drive.

  The whole experience left me with mixed emotions. Should I have been flattered that he’d needed to come so badly, he couldn’t have waited until we got to the house? That he had to come in his pants, in the middle of a public parking garage? Or should I have been insulted that he’d used every ounce of his restraint to not fuck me. To resist me. Even though he’d been in enormous pain.

  He eventually pulled back, straightening my dress in a business-like manner as he went. Much to my disappointment, he refused to even look me in the eyes.

  “That was—”

  “Something that will not be repeated,” he finished for me. “Ever.”

  With a scowl, he stomped around to the driver’s side and unlocked the car. Still no eye contact.

  Aaaand he’s back to being an arse. Brilliant.

  I thought my life had gotten turned upside-down when I was told I had to marry a complete stranger.

  But thanks to some fully-clothed dry humping against a car, my world was now totally and invariably fucked.

  I’d made it clear to Lexi in the thirty-six hours since I’d pounded her into my car and come in my pants like a pathetic putz that the entire incident was inconsequential to me.

  She hated me now more than ever.

  On top of that, it was time for Sunday lunch at my parents’ house. I was about to introduce them to my new wife. All in all, it was the perfect storm…

  For disaster.

  “I need you to do me a favor when we get there,” I told her as I maneuvered the car through the streets of Brooklyn, heading for Prospect Park.

  Their renovated brownstone overlooked Binnen Bridge in the park, where Dad asked Mom to marry him. I wondered if Lexi would find that romantic. Was she the type of woman who longed for romance? Who sighed wistfully as she passed it by on the street?

  If so, she’s with the wrong man.

  “This ought to be good,” she muttered. She’d been refusing to look at me ever since we’d left the house ten minutes before.

  We’d reverted back to our tactics of avoidance and sarcastic mockery when we absolutely had to be in each other’s presence. It grated on my nerves a hell of a lot more than I’d expected it to. But honestly, what did I expect after I’d all but tossed her away the second I’d emptied my balls?

  And Christ, she’d been so hot for it.

  All spark and fire, grinding in my arms like that. So uninhibited in her passion.

  My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Don’t mention the…haste of the wedding ceremony to my mother. I’m sure my father has filled her in on most of the details, but I’m the first of her children to marry and…” I cleared my throat, unwilling to go down that road. “Bringing it up at the dinner table would crush her.” Actually, it would probably break her heart.

  But wasn’t that my specialty?

  Breaking the hearts of the people I loved?

  Lexi was silent for several seconds. “I would never disrespect your mother in her own home like that, Nico,” she said in a quiet voice, actually sounding offended.

  Truthfully, I never thought she would be unkind to my family. She had been nothing but gregarious with them at O’Malley’s the other night. Dare I say, she’d even had fun with them. Plus, Lexi wasn’t a mean-spirited person. Her snark toward me was merely an act of self-defense. I constantly asked for it by casting the first stone and being a douche. Honestly, I’d probably lose a little bit of respect for her if she didn’t respond in kind.

  “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to stop the inquisition that’s about to come your way,” I warned her. “Everyone might know our situation, but that doesn’t mean they still aren’t curious about you. Whatever questions you answered for the girls the other night, you’re probably going to get double the dose from my parents.”

  “I can handle it,” she replied, picking at the seam of her jeans. “Besides, you’re the only one I seem to have a problem getting along with. Whatever side of the family tree you got your personality from, it couldn’t have been the same one your brothers and sister got theirs from.”

  Which may have been the most ironic thing I’d ever heard. Because everyone knew I was the anti-serious smartass of the family. The proverbial slackass, even though I made thousands of dollars every day. Yet she had never known me as anything but a cold, cocky, self-absorbed jackass. Something I’d never been in my life before meeting Lexi. Well, I hadn’t been as cold before her.

  What did that mean?

  I wasn’t my usual self when I was around this woman, which was normally an indicator of an unhealthy relationship. Right?

  Or maybe some things need to change.

  “Clearly, you bring out the best in me, legs.”

  “Clearly.”

  I resisted the urge to grin.

  Even though we were back to our old ways, it felt like a mutual retreat. Like we both understood that we’d crossed a line in that parking garage, and we both silently agreed it couldn’t happen again. She’d even bolstered the courage to ask me before we left the house if what she’d chosen to wear for lunch was appropriate, not knowing the dress code at the Rossetti house.

  I’d wanted to reply, “I’m pretty sure your body couldn’t make anything look inappropriate. Indecent, yes.”

  Instead, I’d simply answered, “You look fine.”

  In truth, she looked breathtaking, as usual.

  A jade green sweater clung to her curves, dark skinny jeans highlighted the shape of her ass, and ankle boots made her legs look even longer. Her blonde hair was down with a slight wave to it. And nude lipstick, instead of her signature red, made her appear less runway model chic and more comfy girl-next-door. Both looks worked for Lexi because she was beautiful no matter what style she chose for the day.

  If she was nervous as we climbed the stairs of Mom and Dad’s front stoop, she didn’t let it show. Once again, I had to admire the woman’s courage. She’d had enough reasons to throw tantrum after tantrum over the last several days, and she hadn’t once lost her cool.

  My mother answered the door with a wide smile, the smells of lunch wafting out into the Brooklyn air with her. “Well, if it isn’t the daughter-in-law I never saw coming.”

  It was official.

  My family loved Lexi more than they loved me.

  Not hard to believe. She was like the sun, shining her beams upon all those lucky enough to be cast in her light.

  And me… I was the cloud that got in her way.

  Nothing else could make her frown like harsh words from my mouth.

  “I can only imagine what legendary tales this guy has entertained you with, Lexi,” Cris mused. “Just so you know, he probably didn’t have to embellish most of it.”

  I covered my wince by shoving another forkful of Mom’s chicken tetrazzini in my mouth. As per usual at Sunday lunch, stories of my past misdeeds and all the ill-conceived actions in between were a constant topic of conversation.

  What can I say? My life had always been good for a laugh.

  I sensed Lexi’s confusion from her chair to my right, but I didn’t look over. “Actually, I haven’t heard any. Nico here has hardly taken any time off from work the past few days. I’m afraid he’s been a woefully boring sort.”

  Everybody at the table shot each other looks, e
ven my parents. I don’t think she could have said anything that would have shocked them more.

  “Boring?” Luka sputtered. “This guy? Have we stumbled into some kind of Invasion of the Bodysnatchers scenario?”

  Lexi frowned. “Sorry?”

  “We are talking about the same guy who cross-dressed to get into the all-girls dorm at Columbia just so he could have sex with Holly Reiner, right?” Gia asked.

  My attention swung over to Lexi to gauge her reaction. Her eyes flared with surprise as her head snapped around to me. It was that animal in the zoo look again—fascination mixed with intrigue. And utter disbelief.

  “No, she needs to hear about the time he got pulled over in the middle of Amish country with a joint in his ash tray,” Ace spoke up.

  Everyone cracked up while Mom crossed herself, muttering prayers in Italian.

  Lexi looked downright perplexed. “What were you doing in Amish country?”

  I tipped my whiskey glass at Ace, my tone wry. “Oh, I can’t take away their pleasure of telling you themselves. What kind of sport would that make me?”

  “It was when he was in the process of buying his distillery in Kentucky,” Cris chimed in. “He wanted to scope things out and get a feel for the area, which is basically just a lot of farmland and fields. Hence, winding up in Amish country.”

  “It was the first time he ever drove a Lamborghini, if that tells you anything,” Rome threw out, breaking his usual stoic silence.

  “So, there he is,” Ace cut back in, “wearing shoes that cost hundreds, a suit that cost thousands—”

  “Don’t forget whipping his man bun in the wind,” Luka interjected.

  “—driving a car that cost hundreds of thousands, all while smoking a joint as he passed farmers on tractors at a hundred miles an hour.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t that damn fast.”

  Luka snickered. “All of sudden, he sees cherries in his rearview.”

  Lexi frowned. “Cherries?”

  “The lights on top of a police car,” Gia explained. “A cop gets right on his tail and pulls him over.”

  “But our intelligent brother here was so stoned that he couldn’t figure out how to get rid of the joint before the cop walked up to his window.” Ace was nearly busting a gut.

  Using his thumb and index finger, Rome mimed dropping a spliff. “So, he just placed it right on top of the ash tray, still lit, in full view of the cop.”

  Lexi’s mouth curved up into a grin as her sparkling eyes met mine. “Did you get arrested?”

  I shook my head, my own grin forming before I could push it back. “The cop was all pissed off and red-faced. He took one look at me, one look at the joint, then told me to step out of the vehicle, at which point I was convinced I was going to jail. But he simply reached inside the car, took the joint, puffed on it, and yelled, ‘Slow the fuck down, pretty boy!’ Then he walked off and got back into his car, still puffing on my joint.”

  I actually had to thank Ace for bringing that story up because I got to hear Lexi’s full-bodied laugh for the first time ever.

  “You sound more upset that he stole your weed,” she giggled.

  “I was. I’d gotten that stash from some Cambodians I knew. Shit was legit.”

  Mom emptied her wine glass.

  Once everyone got their laughter back under control, Gia said, “Hold on, let’s not forget about the Scottish hypothermia story.”

  Jasmine—who’d laughed so hard she cried when she’d first heard that particular story—nearly spit out her mouthful of the “family brew,” as we called it. The appearance and taste resembled a wine/sangria drink, though the actual contents were a family secret and would forever stay that way. Lexi had already drunk two glasses of it, so I knew she had a buzz going on. She appeared riveted as Cris began telling the tale.

  “This was a few years ago,” he said, talking with his hands. “He was acquiring his distillery in Scotland, which is located on one of the eight Scottish islands that are known for producing the best scotch in the world. Nico was purchasing the distillery from the old owner who was ready to retire but had no children of his own to leave it to.”

  “So, the two of them started sampling the product,” Luka took over, smiling like a bastard. “It’s part of the culture over there, of course. Business is always conducted over drinks. Naturally, the old owner had been drinking his scotch for years, practically grew up on the stuff.”

  “And Nico didn’t exactly have a really high tolerance for scotch,” Rome supplied.

  Luka slapped the table, losing his shit. When he couldn’t get the words out, Ace took the ball. “Seeing this, the old man convinced Nico that such transactions are done a certain way in his country. The buyer must perform a task for the seller before the deal is sealed. A challenge, of sorts.”

  “Basically, a dare,” Gia clarified.

  “And what better prank to play on the drunk American than to convince him to jump into the ice-cold sea in the middle of November.” Cris paused dramatically before tacking on, “In nothing but his underwear.”

  Lexi slapped a hand over her mouth to hold in her laughter.

  Luka held up two fingers. “Two days he spent in the hospital, recovering from acute hypothermia.”

  “You know the song, ‘I Left My Heart in San Francisco?’” Rome asked Lexi. Her expression said she didn’t but wasn’t going to say it. “Well, Nico’s version would be titled, ‘I Almost Left My Balls in Scotland.’”

  That sent everyone off.

  “What did the owner say?” Lexi turned to me, smiling.

  I tucked my tongue in my cheek, fighting my own smile. “Said he’d never seen such balls on a lad, even if they were blue and shrunken. Then he gave me a discount on the sale in honor of my ‘bravery of a Scottish Highlander from the old days.’” My spot-on Scottish accent had her in a fit of giggles. “Now, I have a place to stay in the Cayman Islands, where he retired to, whenever I want.”

  Everyone around the table broke into another round of laughter.

  My eyes never left my wife.

  Stop calling her that!

  She was looking at me differently now. Her eyes had softened, the lines around her mouth had been smoothed away. Was that… Was that a bit of admiration I saw there?

  Ah, hell.

  She couldn’t look at me that way. She was getting the wrong idea about me. I was going to have to put a stop to it.

  Before she started thinking I was something I really wasn’t.

  Something I could never be for her.

  Who the hell was this guy?

  Surely, not the same man I married. Because that guy barely ever cracked a smile. He would never be the spontaneous, adventurous sort who did impressions of a Scottish brogue and easily laughed at himself.

  “Tell me, Lexi,” Nico’s mother said once everyone had caught their breaths from laughing so hard. “Did you attend school abroad? Your accent doesn’t sound entirely Russian.”

  I was pretty sure I already loved the matriarch of the Rossetti family, who’d insisted I called her Val—not Mrs. Rossetti, not Valentina. She was warm and motherly. Best of all, she hadn’t once shot me a suspicious glare or made a condescending remark about the kind of girl her first-born son had married. In fact, she acted like I was already part of the family. Like the nature of our abrupt marriage was simply of no consequence to her.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I answered her. “I actually went to secondary school in England before attending Cambridge University.”

  I felt Nico shift next to me. I wondered if he was at all curious at my life before him. He’d certainly never asked about my education, nor my hobbies or interests. Would he even care what I was passionate about?

  “Cambridge,” Mr. Rossetti said, who also despised formal names and demanded that I called him Enzo. “Quite impressive, my dear. And what did you study there?”

  “Nonprofit and Public Management. I was managing a few nonprofits in Moscow, including a child
ren’s orphanage that I help fund.”

  I missed my kids so much. My heart was truly broken over not being able to tell them goodbye. I couldn’t bear it if they thought I’d abandoned them. Especially since I knew exactly how that felt.

  More shifting from Nico.

  Val perked up in her chair, a smile overtaking her face. “You don’t say? I’m on the board of several nonprofits here in Brooklyn, and I do a lot of work with local children’s programs. You’re welcome to drop by someday and see if it’s something you’d be interested in assisting with. We’ve been having issues with attendance and overall participation in many of the programs. I could probably use your insights.”

  I only just managed to keep from screaming “hell, yes!” at the top of my lungs. This very well might have been the best news I’d received since I was given my marching orders down the aisle.

  “Absolutely,” I beamed. “I’d love to. That sounds brilliant.”

  She nodded. “It’s settled then.”

  “By the way,” Cris spoke up, looking at his father. “There’s a few properties I want you and Mom to take a look at. Two are in the Cinque Terre region and one is on the southern Amalfi coast. Those are the only ones I could find that meet all of your criteria and are within the price range. But if you don’t like any of them, we can expand the search.”

  “Are you going on an Italian holiday?” I asked.

  “We’re actually looking to purchase a place somewhere in the old country,” Enzo responded, sending his wife a wistful gaze. “Along the coast. As often as we like to travel to Italy, we’ve determined it would probably be more cost effective to buy rather than continue to rent. Cris has been helping us with the real estate side of things.”

  I peeked at Nico out of the corner of my eye. He was staring down at his glass of whiskey with a pensive expression. It made me curious about the dynamic between the brothers and their father. Cris was sat closest to Enzo and seemed to be the most involved in their parents’ affairs, particularly in the financial sense. But Nico was the eldest son. Shouldn’t that role have fallen to him? Or did Italian-American families operate differently from what I was familiar with?

 

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