CHAPTER 22
VINCENT
I take a car to the East River at Eighty-Seventh Street, sit back on a bench, and light up a smoke while staring at the lights of the RFK Bridge.
Eve accepted me and my life months ago. She won’t be easily convinced to be done with me; even if I’m in jail, she’ll want to stay close. And she’d wait the however many years if I asked her to wait. I know this because I’d wait a lifetime for her.
I have to break her heart—make sure she believes we’re completely done. I need her to get off the East Coast, and then promptly forget I ever existed. If she has any hope, she’ll hang onto me. If there’s one thing my father is right about, it’s this: if anyone hears there is a woman I love, they will come for her and use her against me. Not least, I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing she’s waiting—for potentially ten goddamn years—for me to leave prison. What if I die in lockup? What if I come out a different man completely? She can’t wait. I won’t let her.
My father’s reasons for that good advice are obviously purely selfish. He sees her as the girl who shook our empire. I lift my head for a moment, realizing that the biggest threat of all may be him—Antonio Borignone. She has to leave and my father must know that it’s completely over. It’s shocking to imagine that my father would do that to me. But when he puts on that suit, he’s only one man—the Boss. And the Boss makes sure every I is dotted and every T is crossed.
I exhale, wondering how I’m going to break us up. I imagine that the plan is for a fictional character, because every time I think of doing this to my girl, my stomach clenches.
Finally, I pick up the phone, calling Angelo. I’m going to need him to back up my story. I know how close they are, and he’s the best man for the job as she trusts him entirely.
He listens intently to me before cursing me out. The only reason why I accept the way he’s speaking is because I know it’s out of love for my girl. He’s furious I dragged her into this mess in the first place. He’s shocked, but his fury only solidifies the truth; Eve deserves better than me and this life. When the conversation ends, I hang up the phone and drop my head into my palms.
All of a sudden, I’m assaulted by the memory of Eve’s shitty stairwell back in the Blue Houses. I haven’t thought of that shithole in quite some time. My breath grows ragged, imagining those darkened steps.
***
I move behind her, one hand on my piece and the other at her lower back. I feel her tiny frame trembling at my touch. I want to turn her around and pull her into my arms, grab her and carry her up to her apartment. No, I want to grab her and carry her out of this fuckin’ shithole. I just need to feel her lips on mine. Everything about her calls to me. She’s whip-smart and intellectual and somehow, has no goddamn clue how gorgeous she is. My heart pounds with want. She’s so tiny, and it brings out the caveman in me. Even two steps behind her, I tower over her.
I turn her around on the step and do my best to gauge her mood in the dark. Could I leave her in this building alone tonight? What I see in her face has my dick twitching; she wants me. Full lips parted, eyes slightly glazed. I go in for a soft kiss, not wanting to scare her. But the minute we touch, it’s as if I’ve been electrocuted. Never in my life have I felt heat and energy like this.
***
My mind flashes to Eve in my kitchen, cooking for us a few nights ago.
“Vincent!” she squeals, running and jumping into my arms as though she hasn’t seen me in a year. We were just together this morning. I laugh at her exuberance. “I’m making you the best dinner. Wash up and sit!”
I drop my backpack on the floor by the table and then move to the sink to wash my hands.
Turning, I watch as Eve pulls a foil-covered dish out of the oven using a set of black oven mitts that I never even knew I owned.
She’s so beautiful. Fuck. I stand up and move behind her as she places the dish on the counter. Using my fingers, I pull off a piece of chicken straight out of the pan, like I know she hates.
“Vincent, no!” she scolds, trying to push me back.
“Eve, yes!” I mimic her voice, chuckling as I take another juicy bite.
“Don’t eat like an animal. Let me put it all out for us; I just need a few more minutes to take the rice off the stove.”
“I’m a growing boy. I can’t wait, and you’re moving too slow.”
“You have zero patience, has anyone ever told you that?”
“Nope.” I take another bite, trying not to laugh.
“You’re a liar.”
“Wait, Eve. Shush. Do you hear that sound?” I move my eyes left to right.
“Hear what?” She cocks her head to the side, listening intently.
“It’s my stomach growling. It’s angry, Eve.”
“Oh, Vincent. Sit your ass down.”
“My ass or your ass?” I grab her, lifting her onto the counter.
“Let go! I need to take the rice off, or it’ll burn.”
“You’re giving me your bitch face. You know I love that face.” I nuzzle my nose into her neck, inhaling.
She pushes me back and I let her move me.
Lifting an arched eyebrow, she fumes in that sexy way of hers.
“Okay, okay, I’ll sit.” I bring her down from the counter and move to my seat, watching her fuss over my meal, staring as she mixes the salad. Watching as she scoops out the rice with a fork before tasting it, making sure it’s just right. Mine.
***
I blink, feeling wetness coat my cheeks.