Page 73 of Angelic Acts
“No. He doesn’t want them to know he’s gay. I’ve shown him countless times how accepting they are of me, but Anthony doesn’t have that relationship with them. They’re his boss.” His eyes widen at his slip. “Oh, shit. Don’t repeat that name. Please, don’t tell anyone.”
“I promise, your secret is safe with me.” I pretend to zip my mouth and lock it. He stares at me in wonder, then laughs.
“You remind me of Katerina before her world went to shit. But you’re lighter and a little weirder.” When I wince, he knocks his shoulder against mine, bending down to do so. “Weird in an endearing way. Look around. This is the first time I’ve ever hung out with someone who’s feeding frozen rats to killer snakes.”
“They’re not killers,” I mumble.
“Not to you, maybe. But I’m not the one feeding them their rat dinner. This is as close as I’m getting. My job is to protect you from other humans, not from the devil’s second form. If you fall in there, I’m not jumping in after you.” His words are said in a teasing tone, but the anxious undertone has me smirking. The big, bad killer is scared of my snakes.
“Don’t be ridiculous. They’re not going to hurt me.” I start feeding them again. Nik makes a sound of disbelief, then backs away a few steps.
We spend the rest of the day sharing date ideas and gossiping about Syndicate men. Turns out, there’s a lot of drama between killers. Especially when someone sleeps with someone else’s wife.
Chapter 40
Sebastian
Every stone I turn over comes up empty. Every path I take comes back fruitless. All the research I do on Vincent Maroney is a waste of time.
All I’ve uncovered is what a monster the man is. His dealings with women, the way he treats the ones who end up as strippers and escorts, appalls me. I may not understand their careers, but who am I to judge? I support doing what you have to in order to survive. And these women are survivors. Especially the ones who work for him and his little mafia.
The Rizzoli Mafia is a disgusting organization that profits from the misfortune and misdeeds of others. The amount of people their cheap drugs have killed is appalling. He doesn’t deserve to have lived this long.
The heavy pitter-patter of footsteps clomping up the stairs lifts the weight of the world from my shoulders. My angel, somehow so small, walks like an elephant. Her footsteps echo through the house with the way she stomps.
She pokes her head into my office, then clomps towards me. Once she’s within reach, I pull her into my lap.
“Hey, angel,” I murmur as I press my lips against hers.
She folds into me, and with each inch of herself she gives me, the lighter my load becomes, until it completely leaves my mind. My angel never ceases to calm me.
“I made dinner. And dessert!” Her words have me perking up.
“What’d you make?”
“Salmon, mashed sweet potato, and vegetables. We’re eating anti-inflammatory tonight. Nik suggested it when I told him I was feeling bloated.” She pats her adorably pouched stomach as though the size is an issue. But if it’s hurting her, then I’ll make every anti-inflammatory meal she needs.
“Sounds delicious. But you know you don’t have to cook for me. I’m supposed to be the one spoiling you,” I chide her, earning a light swat to the chest.
“I’m perfectly capable of cooking too. You know I’ve been taking care of myself my whole life,” she says with an eye roll.
“I know you’re capable, but you don’t have to take care of yourself anymore. You’re not alone, I’m here for you. I’ve waited years to care for you, don’t deprive me of the pleasure.”
Her eyes lock with mine, and she nods slowly. Then leans in and kisses me. “I don’t actually like cooking.”
“I know,” I say cockily, grinning at her eye roll. “Which is why I’ll cook for us.”
She grins at that response. “Of course my stalker boyfriend knows I don’t like cooking. How silly of me to question his knowledge of me. Knowing you, you’ve probably taken notes about me.”
My cheeks redden as I purse my lips. Even though she’s joking about my obsession with her, I don’t want to scare her with how deep it ran. How deep she’s embedded in me. How her name flows through my veins.
“Oh my God! You do, don’t you?” When I don’t respond, she swats my chest again. “Tell me!”
I sigh and rub my hand through my hair. When she gives me an eager look, I’ve lost. I can’t refuse her. “I have flashcards in my nightstand. I went through them every night before bed on you. And… and I made Lizzy trivia games to make studying more fun.”
“I thought you had a photographic memory?”
“I do. But I couldn’t risk forgetting a single detail about you. You’re too important.” I gently tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear then cup her cheek. “You’re my angel. You’re everything that matters.”
