Page 25 of Professional Liar
By the time I read to the end, the words began to blur in an entirely different kind of mindless haze.
“Pierce,” I called, surprised at the calmness in my tone. The lights were pulsing slightly around the edges of my vision. He poked his head out, took one look at me, and came out to face me, drying his hands on a towel.
I tossed my phone at him. He caught it one handed, towel still in the other. It took him a second to read it. “Hey, Gerry, why don’t you go round up the boys to get something to eat.”
He stepped forward, took my arm, and dragged me into the bedroom. By the time he closed the door, I was clawing at his fingers to let me go. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
He released me so quickly, I stumbled back. Then he pressed the phone to my chest and stared down into my eyes hard. “I know you. And I know you are about five seconds from blowing a gasket and starting a huge blow out with me. I spent an hour making dinner for you, so I’m going to end this right here.”
He put more pressure on the phone. It didn’t hurt, but it did force me to focus on his hand instead of the rage thrumming in time with my pulse. “I’m going to say this once. Two men did come here and ask to marry Bianca. I told both of the little boys they would need to make an appointment with you about it, and to refer to you on any other Italian business which pops up.”
I sputtered on what to say. Why the hell would anyone come to him in the first place? His scent surrounded me, and the smell of sex and sauce. I pushed him back and turned away. Thinking was impossible with him so close.
The only thing that pounded in my head was that the families assumed Pierce had taken leadership of the five. Not even possible since he’s not related by blood. But the old bastards seemed to think his gender precluded DNA and a complete lack of knowledge related to our operations.
Fucking. Bastards.
I didn’t turn around, but I held my hand behind me to get my phone back. Telling Bianca the truth would only upset her, so I simply texted I had things under control. She trusted me to handle family business I hoped.
When my breathing slowed and I could finally think past the pounding in my ears, I turned to face him.
Pierce sat on the edge of the bed leaning back on his hands. “Are we good?”
I took another stuttered exhale and nodded once. “I’m sorry.”
Apologizing was never something I did well. Hopefully, he could take it and not press further. There had been times me apologizing to him worked fine, others, he pushed me on them until I begged for forgiveness. Usually in similar means to the activities on his countertop.
The sound of dishes from the kitchen reached us, and he stood up. “Hungry?”
“I’m starving, actually.”
He gripped my shoulders and looked into my face hard. “You didn’t eat anything today?”
What did he expect? I barely remembered to eat on normal days. It became worse the busier I got. I shrugged instead of answering.
He lifted my chin in a tight grip. “We are going to work on that. For now, let me feed you.”
I leaned up, kissed him, and let him lead me into the kitchen.
Five men, including Gerry were standing around the countertops with plates of spaghetti in their hands. All of them silently shoveled in pasta at breakneck pace.
Pierce led me in by the hand. “You guys know you can sit at the table right?”
They all filed out, and Pierce made plates for us and carried them to the table. It was a large table, seating twelve, so we all fit easily. They all wore shades of black and leather jackets. I wanted to make a joke about waiting for the rest of The Village People, but decided against it. None of them, not even Gerry, knew me well enough to take it as a joke.
They’d called me a showpiece. They’d called me a shrew. I glanced across the table at Pierce. Muscular, covered in tattoos, every inch of him screaming at people to run away. And yet, the curve of his smile and his laugh were so sweet, anyone would be entranced by it.
“You’re not eating,” he said, breaking my focus on him.
Heat surged up my neck, so I ducked down and ate. The sauce tasted sweet and spicy at the same time. Simple and yet it stuck to the noodles perfectly. I didn’t realize I’d let out a moan until everyone at the table broke out laughing.
I wiped my chin. “What?”
“You like it huh?” Pierce asked, and laughed again.
“It’s amazing. Where did you get this recipe? And don’t tell my grandmother, but it’s better than hers. Although when you meet her, I don’t advise you telling her that, or you might find a chicken head in your bed.”
He scoffed. “Inourbed.”
