by Gina LaManna
“In my mouth,” I retorted. “You got a problem?”
Anthony paused with his hand perched behind his head. I blushed.
“Never mind,” I snapped. “Why are you here?”
The right corner of Anthony’s mouth curved upwards, and when he gave his head the slightest amused shake, the sexy, unexplained tattoo across his neck rippled ever so slightly, and I had the distinct urge to run my lips over it.
Instead, I sipped more coffee. It didn’t take long before I doubled over. “HOT.”
I broke into a coughing fit and marched towards the desk, setting my things down with a clatter. Anthony reached out a hand to clap me on the back.
“Doll,” he said. “Swallow.”
I wiped my post-coughing-fit tears from the corner of my eye and stared at him, trying to decide if there was more to his sentence than met the ear. I narrowed my eyes, deciding maybe there was, though his face was blank and his eyes expressionless.
“Funny, Mister. Don’t start with me,” I said.
“Start?” Anthony reached out and twirled a stray hair around his finger. “Oh, sugar. I don’t start what I don’t have time to finish.”
My stomach did a full on flip flop. I cleared my throat and took a step back, plunking my butt firmly onto the desk and swinging my legs to give myself a little room to breathe.
“You never told me why you were here,” I pointed out.
“Well, Nicky’s kid got sick and puked so he took her home ten minutes early. Then someone showed up forty-eight minutes late for their shift, so I got stuck here.”
“Hmm. You know, working the desk is good for you.” I took a sip of coffee and peeked over the edge. “Humbles you from your high and mighty Head of Security role.”
Anthony gave me a skeptical glance, his right eyebrow creeping upwards.
“Okay, sorry. Fine. I overslept. I was overstimulated yesterday.” I shrugged.
Anthony’s smile grew until it was obnoxiously pleased.
I rolled my eyes. “Not that. The spa. It tired me out.” I slid from the desk. “But I’m here now, so you can go do whatever duty you have to do. I’ve got the reins.”
“I’m under orders to take you over to Mr. and Mrs. Luzzi’s after your shift.” Anthony suddenly stood straight and appeared much more professional. I was always amazed at how quickly seductive Anthony could morph into business Anthony.
“Is that right?” I waggled my eyebrows at him. “I thought we all agreed no more babysitting. You’re just supposed to be my trainer now.”
“I’m not babysitting.” Anthony winked, and I immediately knew where his mind had gone. My mind went there, too, warming parts of my stomach that my coffee couldn’t.
He continued. “I’m instructed to return to the estate, as are you. Since we’re both going there, I am supposed to make sure you don’t suddenly have an excuse to disappear.”
Anthony’s words caught me off guard. My mind, in fact, had been searching for just that sort of excuse. I already had dinner plans there over the weekend – Sunday dinners never changed.
What I really wanted to do tonight was research that phone number from the spa with Clay. Depending on the search results, maybe I’d do some staking of the place. After that, my plan was to crawl in bed and watch The West Wing. Or, you know, The Bachelor. Whatever happened to be on television.
I grumbled a little bit. “Who’s going to watch the desk?”
“Nicky.”
“What?” I snapped my head up. “I thought he just left due to a sick kid.”
“He did.” Anthony shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and didn’t exactly make eye contact with me.
I leaned forward. “What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing.” Anthony stared right into my eyes, but I could see how difficult it was for him to do so.
“Are you telling me that you can lie to the scariest criminals and mob bosses and who-knows-who-else, but you can’t lie to me?” My jaw opened incredulously. Then I clapped my hands together and rubbed them back and forth. “This could be fun.”
Anthony cleared his throat. “Afraid it’s not very fun.”
“What did you tell Nicky?” I narrowed my eyes.
“I said you would take Marissa and Clarissa over to the estate so that we could have someone man the desk.”
“WHAT?”
“I’m sorry—”
“Do you understand what you’ve done to me?” I ranted.
Anthony opened his arms in a pleading gesture. “That’s why I offered to drive you. I thought you might need help.”
I opened my mouth to continue complaining when the front door swung wide and Nicky walked in, two heads bobbing in front of him. One with brown spunky curls and the other with blond hair straight as a board. Except for the same dad, the girls had nothing in common in the biology department.
Marissa, the blondie (I think), wiped her nose on her hand. “Aundie Lacey, are you taking us to da’ esdade?”
“What she means is, are you taking us to great-gram and gramps’?” Clarissa chirped in. “Her words aren’t coming out right since she’s a huge hunk of snot.”
“Ab not.” Marissa yanked on Clarissa’s locks.
Clarissa ran over to the sink in the back of the laundromat. Normally, it’s used for sane people to do things like wash their hands, rinse out stains, and remove bleach and other laundry gunk from their person. Except this kid was not sane. Clarissa pulled the nozzle straight out of the sink, cranked on the hot water, and sprayed her sick sister.
“STOB. STOB.” Marissa ran towards me, and I had no choice but to intervene.
Jumping between the two girls, I rushed forward towards Clarissa, managing to shut off the faucet. But not before I’d taken a face full of water. I snapped it off and turned around.
Dripping wet and more than a tiny bit annoyed, I raised my arms. “What are you girls thinking? You...hooligans.” I looked at Nicky. “I am not babysitting.”
Nicky shrugged. “Anthony’s orders.”
I turned towards Anthony with my hands on my hips, but his eyes were fixated somewhere below my chin.
“Hey, buddy. I’m up here.” I gestured with two fingers to my eyes.
“Auntie,” Clarissa giggled, “I can see your boobies.”
I looked down, and sure enough, my bra was fully visible through the flimsy tank top I’d thrown on in a whirl of tiredness this morning to complete the stretchy yoga pants look.
“Excellent.” I gave a nod. “Wonderful.”
Nobody reacted, so I clapped my hands once for attention.
Anthony started and brought his eyes back up to my face.
“Let’s go,” I said. “You got me into this. You’re helping me out of it.”
Marissa and Clarissa were busy trying to sneak elbow shots at each other’s rib cages. Anthony gave one look at each. It was hard not to look at his arms as he took one kid in each hand. He lifted them up, a short boost off the ground, and gave them his most intimidating stare down. I should know, I’d been the recipient on more than one occasion. They both had wide eyes, brown and blue respectively, all colors of eyes were shocked at this giant of a man taking control.
“Are you girls going to listen to your Aunt?” Anthony asked in his quiet, scary voice normally reserved for questioning bad guys.
They nodded so earnestly, I almost felt bad for the kids. They looked so naïve and innocent when they weren’t speaking or moving or doing anything except breathing that I almost wanted to give them a hug. They continued to nod so heartily, I was afraid their teeth would shatter.
“Alright,” I said. “Put ‘em down. Let’s go. You girls try to behave, please.”
Chapter 6
WITH THE LITTLE ONES in the back of my car, and Anthony and me in the front, the four of us made up a weird little family where nobody was quite related.
For about two luxurious moments there was silence. Maybe the girls were still scared crapless of Anthony. But o
nce we were on the road and all belted in, the barrage began with little mouths flapping away:
“Do you two love each other?”
“Are you married?”
“Do you guys kiss?”
It was impossible to tell which kid was floating out which questions.
“No,” I said, at exactly the same time Anthony said, “Yes.”
I looked at Anthony.
The girls eyed both of us, trying to decide who was lying. They settled upon me.
“Ooh, la, la. Anthony and Auntie Lacey, sitting in a tree,” Marissa sang.
“When are you guys getting married?” Clarissa interrupted.
“K-I-S-S-I-N-G-” Marissa didn’t stop her spelling for anything.
“Are you pregnant, Auntie?” Clarissa asked.
I whipped around. “No, I’m not. I had an extra donut this morning. Just one. That doesn’t make me fat.” I turned up front, casting a glance at Anthony.
He stared straight ahead.
“Right?” I demanded.
It was the first time I’d seen him look terrified. Who would’ve thought that this big, strong man’s Kryptonite would be two little girls and an unstable female adult?
I squinted at him. “Answer me.”
“Of course not,” he mumbled, eyes on the road.
“First comes love, then comes marriage...” Marissa kept on keeping on.
“Are you guys in love?” Clarissa blurted.
“Do you live together?” asked (maybe) Marissa.
Anthony skidded to a stop, just barely pulling the vehicle off to the side of the road.
“What are you doi-” The question only got halfway out of my mouth before Anthony unbuckled his seatbelt, leaned over the front seat and gripped the back of my head. He pulled my mouth towards his and he kissed me hard, his tongue sliding deliciously between my lips, tasting like spicy spearmint.
There was a small voice in the back of my head telling me something was off, but I couldn’t possibly listen to it right now. I let myself automatically disengage from the situation, sinking into his soft lips, his firm kiss. My mind was just starting to get fuzzy when he broke the kiss and glanced at me, a lazy sort of look in his eye. I liked to think it was a look that said, this is just the beginning of things to come.
I suddenly realized why something had been off about the kiss. My two nieces were in the back seat, now quiet as cardboard cutouts, staring with eyes wide as silver dollars. I gave what I hoped was a flirty kind of look to Anthony.
“Ew,” Clarissa said. “Check out Aunt Lacey’s face. She thinks kissing is gross, too.”
“Yeah,” Marissa chipped in. “I think she’s going to chuck her donuts. That’s a definite puke face.”
The corners of Anthony’s lips twitched upwards, and he pulled back on the road. “That’s the moral of the story,” Anthony said. “Kissing is gross.”
“Totally,” I said, my head feeling like a balloon about to float out the car window.
“Nobody’s going to hear about this, right?” Anthony looked back. “Girls?”
They shook their heads very solemnly.
“But we might be even quieter about it if you give us five dollars each.” Clarissa gave me a sneaky glance.
“Don’t negotiate with the enemy,” murmured Anthony, too low for the girls to hear.
I rolled my eyes. “They’re Nicky’s kids – what do you expect?”
I opened my wallet and peeled out my last two fives and forked them over.
“Are you two happy? Now I barely have a dollar in my wallet.”
“Yep,” Marissa said. She high-fived her sister. “We cleaned her out.”
WE PULLED INTO CARLOS’S estate. The house itself was enormous, large enough to fit an entire royal family and all its guards, servants, and help. That is, if America had royalty. The acreage surrounding the mansion was expansive, capped only by a gigantic privacy wall that protected not only the estate but the airspace above it. A guard at the gate buzzed us in upon Anthony’s hand signal.
“They never let me in that fast,” I huffed.
“That’s ‘cause you guys aren’t married yet,” Clarissa said.
“Yeah – can we be your flower girls?” Marissa chirped.
Anthony and I stared fixedly straight ahead as the car crept through the spiky gates guarding the drive. Mansion was an understatement, I thought as I glanced around. Even after seeing it numerous times over the past two years, it was still impressive. The drive to the fortress itself took five minutes. The brick wall surrounding the place was higher than most trees, ensuring nobody could see in and nobody could see out.
Above the wall an electric fence reached its sparkling tentacles further into the sky, protecting from attacks above. It’d been a more recent addition, ever since drones and helicopters had become an issue. It hadn’t been a problem back when my Grandfather moved up here from Chicago. He hadn’t even had to worry about cell phones in that day and age.
I pointed out the space above the huge retaining wall.
“Don’t climb up there,” I instructed the girls. “It’s electric. It’ll explode you into bits.”
Anthony made a noise in his throat that suggested he didn’t think the idea was all too terrible. I might’ve agreed, except I was related to them. Wishing for relatives to explode was just rude.
“We know.” Clarissa did a grown-up style eye roll. “We don’t have to learn things the hard way.”
“What do you mean?” I flipped backwards in my seat.
“Clay told us,” Marissa said. “He told us how he’d make machines to try and disable Grandpa’s security system, and you were the only one dumb enough to test them for him.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What else did Clay say?”
Marissa glanced at her sister and giggled, her curls bouncing. “He said one time he hadn’t managed to turn it all the way off...”
“Yeah,” Clarissa continued with a nod. “He only managed to turn the voltage down and when he sent you through, your bangs got so fried it looked like you’d taken a toaster in the bath with you.”
The girls broke into fits of uncontrollable giggles.
I simply turned my head forward and ignored them, but a small movement caught my attention from the driver’s side. The movement was Anthony’s shoulders, shaking with laughter.
“You, too?” I turned to Anthony. “Mature.”
He’d turned to look out the driver’s side window, but I could see the smallest of smiles forming in his reflection against the window. He made a valiant effort to compose his expression as he threw the car into park. He opened the door for the two little girls while I climbed out the passenger seat, still a little bit grumpy.
“My hair grew back,” I pointed a finger at my scalp for anyone who would listen.
Anthony surveyed my head. “I see you did away with the bangs.”
I stomped up the front lawn, barely noticing the lack of guards patrolling the area.
Anthony, however, took a moment to survey the place. The girls skipped ahead of me towards the huge front door, high enough for Paul Bunyan to waltz right through, no limbo-ing required.
As my frustration faded with each thud of my footstep against the stone path, I took a second to glance around the yard. I paused with a hand on my hip.
“Does it seem quieter than usual around here?” I looked to Anthony, who’d caught up with me.
“Something’s up. I’m just not sure what yet.” He surveyed the land, his dark eyes calculating and intelligent, an entirely different Anthony from the one who’d made fun of my bangs mere moments before.
That was one of the fascinating things about Anthony; half of the time I was scared to death of the man. I had no doubt he could kill (and probably had). He was smart; Carlos didn’t accept stupid guards, especially not for the head of his security team. At times, I even doubted whether Anthony had emotions. He was so articulate, stoic, and cold in the face of an emergency – which I suppose made him
the perfect candidate for the job.
But the other half of the time (or maybe thirty percent...or one percent, to be completely honest) he was almost warm, surprisingly funny, and passionate as all hell. Which is why I was confused about my relationship with Anthony. I liked him. I respected him. And yes, I wanted to do stuff with him almost all the time.
However, the moments like this gave me second thoughts; did I actually know this man at all? If he was so intelligent and successful, why on earth did he choose to work for the mob boss of St. Paul? I had a hard time believing it was for a reason as simple as a (rather hefty) paycheck.
“Why wouldn’t you know what’s going on? I thought you knew everything around here.” A shiver ran up and down my spine.
“That’s what I plan to find out.” Anthony’s jaw was set firm, a muscle twitching in his cheek. As his calculating eyes took in the surroundings, the tattoo on his neck bulged and rippled. He was tense, his muscles coiled like a jack-in-the-box, and my attraction to him hit at full force. It was an inappropriate time, but I really wouldn’t mind another kiss like the one we’d shared in the car.
Anthony moved quickly towards the door. I followed him, my heart beating so quickly I thought it might just start ricocheting into other parts of my body. I was equally turned on and equally scared, and the combination was incredibly intense and awkward, considering the nearby children.
I cast a last glance around the yard and spotted a few guards hovered in the guard tower, watching the four of us approach the front door. Then there was the guard at the gate and a few men in the lookout towers that were spaced evenly around the house. But there were no patrolling guards, no chattering of the secure walkie talkie system (invented by Clay), and no visible guns.
What on earth was going on?
Anthony pushed the front door open, and I was shocked by the silence that met us. The mansion wasn’t particularly loud on any given day – unless there was a family gathering in which my cousin, Vivian, was in attendance, but the astounding quiet almost hurt my ears.
“Where’s Harold?” Clarissa asked.
“Yeah,” Marissa pouted. “He always gives us a mint when he takes our jackets.”