Page 29 of Humility

I left the room feeling empty despite decent sex and my business success. Being on the run had held a certain thrill and adrenaline boost. Building my empire was exciting. Fucking my way across continents to bury my emotions, not so exciting. Now—it all felt old.

“Do we need to do this again? Aren’t you sick of following me around like a lost dog?” I glared over my shoulder as Dario walked behind me, his pants and gun in hand and a scowl on his face.

“Do I need to remind you that I don’t give a fuck what you think?”

“Suit yourself.”

I hadn’t thought Dario could get any more doom and gloom, but holy shit, it was like the guy had a storm cloud following him around all the time. He was the best at what he did. I never feared for my safety, but would it hurt for him to crack a smile? I mean, he just got laid, and by the look on his face, you’d swear his dog just died.

I got it. I missed her too. I wanted Jasmine back, and I always kept options to make it happen at the front of my mind. But shit…if I walked around like that all the time, I would get nothing accomplished.

I walked into my bedroom, and he took up his post by the door, completely naked. “I’m going to shower. Do you want to use one of the other shower heads? At least then, you’re clean and not smelling up my room.”

Dario’s eye twitched, and his lip curved up just a little. It was the only sign that he was amused. “What? You don’t like the smell of old, dried-up pussy?”

“Not hers anyway,” I joked, and he snorted but pushed away from the wall and walked into the bathroom with me.

The bedroom I’d converted was double the size of my bathroom back home. One whole wall was a shower with a long bench and four shower heads. There were two sinks, a private toilet area, and a large jacuzzi that looked out over the backyard. But my view was always ruined by Dario’s ass in my face. He insisted that the large window was an easy sniper target and refused to move from in front of it.

“The house has been rented. The person knocked the price down a little, but they wanted to sign a year lease to start, and you know how much I hate Mrs. Sherwood coming around any more than needed.”

I turned the brass knobs, and the warm spray was immediate and made me sigh. This was my second favorite room in the house. My favorite was the small library and reading nook on the top floor.

“I assume you voiced our issues about the last tenant to Mrs. Sherwood, and this one won’t be a problem?” I titled my head back under the spray.

“She assured me this tenant is a model citizen and has already paid the first three months in cash.”

“Excellent, and a little suspicious. I’d keep an eye on whoever this is.” I didn’t need the extra income from the old farmhouse on the far end of the property, but why have it sitting there doing nothing? That didn’t make any sense. “Any word from back home?”

“If by any word you mean about Jasmine Falcone, then I heard she is betrothed to Ciro Caruso.”

My teeth ground together so loud that my jaw cracked. Jasmine was mine. She was the reason I stole the egg, why I even came up with the plan in the first place that got me banished. It also explained the extra dark scowl on Dario’s face.

“I didn’t say I wanted to know about her.”

“You didn’t have to. I doubt very highly that you give a shit that your father has lost ten pounds, won a cool quarter mill in a poker game, and is still our largest competitor in stores.”

“Who says I don’t want to know about those things?”

I didn’t care. Dario was right, but I wouldn’t admit that. It was bad enough that he knew, without me saying, that I was still pining as badly as he was over her.

“Keep lying to yourself, but you don’t fool me,” he said.

I grabbed the soap and palmed it as I contemplated throwing it at his head. Dario turned his back, and the massive gorilla tattoo looked like it was roaring at me. Appropriate. The image suited his large size, fearlessness, loyalty, and chest-thumping personality.

“Fine, you’re right, that pisses me the fuck off,” I sighed. How had shit gone so wrong? “Just fucking tell me about the latest sales projections,” I said and lathered up the soap.

As Dario droned on about the numbers, I pretended to listen, but my mind was somewhere else—more specifically, on someone else. With just a single mention, my Tiger once more plagued my thoughts. I would never forget those honey-colored eyes that captured my heart. I remembered every touch we shared and the feel of her body. Nothing could wipe the sound of her voice from my mind or how her laugh made me smile. I’d never been a soft or kind man, but when I held her close with her head on my chest, I wanted something different.

What was worse than remembering the sweet moments was being unable to forget how broken and sad she looked when I told her I was going to America for a few months and Dario had to come with me.

It was three years later that sheer desperation to cling to Jasmine had driven me to steal the egg. It had backfired, and now she was marrying Ciro. My hand clenched into a fist on the tile wall, and I was tempted to punch through the black ceramic.

The rage that filled me was unearthly in its potency. I hated Ciro. I didn’t really know him, we didn’t hang out unless forced, but I didn’t care. If he were standing before me, I’d shoot him in the head and take what was mine.

“You didn’t hear a word I said,” Dario said, and I realized I’d turned around and was glaring at the far wall.

“Shut up and start over. I’ll listen this time.”