As Trick opens my door, I expect to see blood dripping down his neck. Nana talked both of his ears off the whole way here. Aside from the sexual orientation clarification, it was mostly about how she and my grandfather met and how hard he worked right up until he died.

Nana marches off toward the front door then turns around. “Don’t forget to ask Darby about her first kiss.”

For the love of God, Nana!

“So tell me—”

“No.” I sidestep him.

He grabs my arm. “Spill.”

I grumble, nothing in particular, as I turn with a sour face. “My first kiss was the day I graduated from high school. My father and Rachel had a party for me.” I stare down at my feet, rocking back on my heels while tapping the toes of my sandals together. “No kids from my class came, just friends of my father and Rachel. One of the neighbors … well, their child was home from college and kissed me out back in the rose garden.”

Trick chuckles. “An older guy, huh?”

I risk a glance up at him with a sheepish grin. “An older girl.”

Lip twitch. I’m impressed by his control. “You kissed a girl?”

“She kissed me.”

“Did you like it?”

“Shut up. I had a shitty childhood, not that you would—”

Oh. Fuck!

“Trick, I’m—”

“Don’t.” He kisses me, resting his forehead against mine.

“But you grew up with nothing—”

“And you grew up with everything.” He kisses me again. “I’m glad it was that way and not the other way around.”

“Trick—”

He shakes his head, probably seeing the tears of regret in my eyes. “Come.” Taking my hand he pulls me toward the front door.

As soon as we enter, we’re greeted by the cloying tone of Rachel’s voice because seriously … God wasn’t cruel enough to actually give someone that as their natural voice. “We’re in here.”

Trick starts to pull me toward the voice like he lived here, not me. I love everything about him, even the things that drive me crazy. He has a sexy bad-boy appearance with a reserved demeanor, but he’s confident and dominant as hell when he wants to be.

“Hey…” I tug on his hand and wrap my arms around him before we reach the formal living room “…thank you for this.”

He leans down toward my neck and I tilt my head, begging for his mouth to claim my skin. “You can thank me in a more proper way later.” He sucks and bites at my sensitive flesh.

“Ah hem …”

I start to move, but Trick takes his time, not even flinching before he gives me one last nip.

“Good evening, Rachel.”

Trick lifts his mouth from my neck with his back still to Rachel. He wets his lips then rubs them together; I swear he fucks me with his eyes and a smirk that says I-don’t-give-a-damn-who-just-walked-in-if-I-want-you-I’m-going-to-take-you. God, I’ve never wanted to be bent over that wooden banister so bad in my life. Desire used to be an afterthought, a luxury. Now it’s a rash that I can’t stop scratching.

“Trick this is Rachel Hart, my father’s … wife.” I fake a grin.

Trick turns and offers his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Rachel looks like she could pass out, the color draining from her face and her chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths. It’s the Trick effect. Her wide eyes dart back and forth between his face and his hand. Trick glances over at me with his hand still held out and gives me the knitted eyebrow look.

I roll my eyes and shake my head because I don’t know what her problem is. She has a peculiar personality. “Rachel?” I say in two slow syllables.

She swallows then clears her throat. “Uh … yes, sorry. It’s nice to meet you too.” Accepting his hand with hesitation, she eyes him as if she’s waiting for him to say something more.

Trick releases her hand and looks at me with a subtle squint that shows lingering confusion in his eyes.

“Well, shall we?” Rachel motions with a head nod to the living room. Even her Botox brow doesn’t hide her tension as she forces a tight-lipped smile while blinking as if she just got contacts.

“There’s my girl.” My father holds out his arms.

I release Trick’s hand and hug my father. Nana winks at me with a sly smile stealing her lips. “Father.” I step back, grabbing Trick’s hand again. “You remember Trick.”

My father nods once as his face falls sour. “Yes, I remember. How nice of you to indulge my wife’s thirsty curiosity by joining us for dinner.”

“I’m indulging your daughter, not your wife.”

“Maybe for now. Let’s eat.” My father plasters on his politician’s smile while everyone drudges through the thick tension, making our way to the dining room.

I recognize that look in my father’s eyes. It’s his way of saying, “See you in court.” Tonight the dining room will serve as the courtroom, and Trick will be on trial for the duration of dinner.

Trick pulls my chair out, but I don’t think his faux gentlemanly manners are going to earn him points with my father. He sits next to me and leans over to my ear as I take a sip of water. “The only thing that’s going to get me through tonight is knowing that when it’s over I’ll be fucking you into the middle of next week.”

I choke, searching with desperation for my next breath. A wry grin slides up Trick’s face as he pats my back.

“Are you okay?” Nana and my father chime at the same time while Rachel scowls at me, as if choking at the dinner table is just another example of my poor etiquette.

Pressing my hand to my chest, I nod. “F-fine.”

“So, Trick, are you originally from Chicago?” My dad wastes no time.

“Darling, we just sat down. Must you start with the interrogation?” Rachel sips her wine, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Nana peers at me as if I have the answer to Rachel’s uncharacteristic behavior. I expected my father and Rachel to tag team the interrogation.

“Asking him where he’s from is hardly an interrogation. Do you feel interrogated, Trick?” My father loves putting people in the hot seat then daring them to admit they feel the heat.

“I’m from Queens.”

I look over at Trick. This is news to me. Admittedly, I never asked where he was from. Somehow I made the assumption that he grew up homeless on the streets of Chicago. He looks at everyone except me, as if gauging their reaction is more relevant than the wide-eyed shock on my face.

“I see. Do your parents still live there?”

“They’re dead.” Trick takes a bite of his salad.

“Siblings?” My father doesn’t even have the decency to offer his condolences before moving on to the next question.

“No.”

“What brought you to Chicago?” He just keeps firing away.

“Cal, really can you let the boy enjoy his dinner?” Rachel swoops in to save the day, but hell if I know why.

“Job offer.” Trick ignores everyone but my father, except for giving Rachel the occasional glance.

“And what is it you do?”

“I’m a makeup artist.”

My dad chuckles and takes his first bite of food, as if he’s made his case and is ready to dismiss the witness from the stand.

“I started out doing sketches and selling them on the street and at local art festivals.”

Food has to be hanging out of my mouth. I can’t believe Trick is volunteering information he’s never shared with me—information I’ve been too afraid to ask about.

What’s his angle?

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on something with Susie in the kitchen.” Rachel leaves the table.

“Darby, what’s new with work?” Nana breaks the silence.

I smile at her then look over at Trick who seems to be in deep thought with his eyes fixed to his food as he chews each bite with slow concentration. He seems a million miles away.

Rachel never returns to the table and nobody goes to check on her. What does that say about her? What does that say about us? My father takes an “important” call before dessert is served and never returns either. Nana and I end up having a conversation about her friend’s recent diabetes diagnosis. Trick says nothing, just a nod or two whenever we try to engage him in our conversation.

We leave without a single goodbye from Rachel or my father. I’m usually the one being shunned for my poor etiquette, but right now I’m so embarrassed by the way they just left as if we weren’t worth their time.

Nana nods off on the way home while Trick stares out the back window. I feel like a cab driver, and eventually I turn on the radio to drown out the monotonous silence.

“Nana,” I whisper, giving her a gentle nudge but she still startles.

“Oh dear! Did I doze off?”

“Yes, I believe you did.” I chuckle.

Trick gets out and opens her door.

“Thank you. You’re quite the gentleman.”

He’s not.

“I’ll walk you to your door.”

She pats his chest. “No need. I’ve got it, but thank you. Night, dear.” She waves to me as she heads up her walk.

“Goodnight, Nana.”

Trick gets in the passenger seat and shuts the door. “I have an early morning tomorrow.” He gives me a weak smile. It’s more than a lip twitch and less than the full on grin so I know it’s forced.

“I do too, but I was still going let you fuck me into the middle of next week.”

He moves his hand behind my head rest and looks me over before meeting my gaze again. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just have an early morning tomorrow. I’m doing onsite work for a photoshoot.” He looks ahead.

My shoulders slump. “Okay. Tomorrow, maybe.” I pull away from the curb. “Why didn’t you tell me you were from New York?”

“It never came up, I guess.”

“And the sketches … you sold your art?”

“Uh-huh.”

It’s a little jarring that he’s never shown me his sketches and the only mention he makes about them since the first night at his place is to my father and Rachel who couldn’t care less. I don’t even know where everything is. He’s moved it all completely out of sight.

“You must have intimidated Rachel … which is hard to do.”

“Why do you say that?” he asks, glancing sideways.

“She insists on knowing everything about everyone, and not only did she not ask you, well … anything, she actually tried to prevent my father from probing. It was…” I shake my head “…weird.”

It’s not that I didn’t feel a little intimidated by Trick when we first met, but Rachel Hart is cutthroat; backing down from anyone is not her style.

“Yeah, that is weird.”

As I pull up along Trick’s street, he unfastens his seat belt. “Drive safe.” He brushes his knuckles across my cheek then starts to get out.

What the hell?

“Are you serious?” I can’t hide the pain in my voice.

He ducks down looking back in at me.

“Drive safe? That’s it? What the hell happened since fucking me into the middle of next week? Did I do something wrong? Is this about my family because I-I don’t understand?”

He sighs, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “I’m just … off tonight. I’ll…” he pauses with another sigh “…I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

I want to get out and hug him into some sort of submission, but I feel this wall between us right now. And as much as I love him, I really don’t know him well enough yet to anticipate how he might react to being pushed into opening up to me. The part of Trick I don’t understand feels dark, and it scares me more than I could ever admit to him.

Pressing my lips together, I nod and he shuts the door. As I pull away, I look in my rearview mirror and see him raking his hands through his hair.