Bastiano Romano: A Standalone Mafia Romance Novel (The Five Syndicates Book 4) by Parker S. Huntington (29)

I remembered the words Wilks had taught me my first day as a legend.

This job is about patience. It’s about molding yourself into someone else. You flatline. Become dull. No threat. Then, you look for weaknesses. Because your enemy is still a human being. One weakness is all you need. Their weakness gives you hope, and your hope is the only thing you need for strength.

It wasn’t hope I felt as I considered Bastian’s grief. Like a gentleman—his version—he’d wiped himself off me with a wet towel last night before showering and joining me in bed. He’d been asleep since I’d woken up with his arm slung around me.

I stayed as still as I could because he looked exhausted, and I knew he needed his strength to search for his uncle I knew in my soul he wouldn’t find. I toiled over the guilt, debating my options.

I needed to turn in my badge, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave Tessie. Not with her uncle missing, and everyone in her life searching for him. Until I left, I couldn’t speak about Vincent. If I told Bastian about Vince’s visit, our truce would dissipate. It’d lead to my secrets unraveling, and I didn’t want to think about what would happen if he knew I was an illegitimate De Luca Princess and an undercover FBI agent.

“Bastian! I’m hungry!” Tessie called out, her voice growing louder as she neared.

I pulled the covers up, shifting her brother’s arm away from me.

She didn’t look surprised to see me in bed with Bastian as she entered the room in her pink Power Rangers pajamas. “Can you make me food? I can’t find Luna.”

Bastian peeked his head up. “Luna’s off work today.”

“Oh.” She frowned and stared at me. “Bastian sucks at cooking. I hope you don’t suck, too.”

I shrugged beneath the covers, painfully aware I only wore my camisole and no underwear. “I do alright. What do you want?”

“Two mini pancakes with flax and almond butter, a mushroom and cheese omelet, half an eggs Benedict, and a blueberry and açaí smoothie.”

Good lord. Rich people breakfast.

I popped a brow. “Is that all?”

She bit her lip and actually tried to think of more. “I think we ran out of almond milk, so I guess that’s all.” She turned to her brother. “Did you find Uncle Vince yet?”

Bastian’s eyes shot to mine, the irritation growing until I shook my head in denial. His fault for having a smart sister. He sat up, and the sheets pooled around his waist. In the light, I could finally see his tattoos.

He had the name Everett inked onto his ribcage, bold and unapologetic. I wanted to bite down on the tattoo and ask who in his life was so permanent they’d earned the right to stain his skin.

An inappropriate line of thought with an eight-year-old at the door, so I tamped it and stared at the ceiling as Bastian spoke.

“We’re still looking. Also, this is my house not the Ritz Carlton. You’ll have cereal.”

“But—”

“Or you could have oatmeal.”

She shut up. “Fine, but I want Captain Crunch.”

“Deal. Go change out of your pajamas and gather your homework, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

I slid the sheets off as soon as she retreated, feeling way too self-conscious without my panties. He didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t looking as I walked to the en suite bathroom as quickly as I could without outright running.

I turned and glared. “Could you at least pretend you’re not looking?”

It felt like a wall between us had been shattered yesterday, and we navigated this unusual territory with reservations, trying to discover what each other’s limits were, but each second bridged the divide we’d once shared.

He laid on his side, his fingers absently tracing his Everett tattoo like they were used to doing so. “No.” He tilted his head sideways, and I got the feeling he was prolonging this, trying to push aside the severity of Vince’s absence for as long as he could. “Your ass is pretty hot, but it looks better with my dick in it.”

“Your mouth is pretty nice, but it looks better shut,” I shot back as I slammed the door on him.

The opulent marble floors chilled my feet. His bathroom could have housed two of my apartments, which didn’t surprise me. He had a double sink, black clawfoot tub, and standing shower with a clear door and Aurora marble and pearl tiles.

Deciding I’d rather use his towel than go out there and ask for one, I stripped my shirt off and hopped into the shower. I jumped when I heard the door open, covering my breasts with my arms. He didn’t glance at me through the glass door of his shower as he grabbed his toothbrush and brushed his teeth.

After ten seconds of staring at him aghast, I turned on the water to a warm setting and tried my best to relax under the spray. As soon as he rinsed his mouth, he turned to stare at me, his arms casually crossed and the backs of his thighs resting against the sink counter.

I tried not to be affected, failed, and endeavored to throw him off balance instead. “Who is Everett?”

“None of your business.” He uncrossed his arms and took a step toward me. “I need a favor.”

I barked out an uneasy laugh as he slid his boxers down in one quick movement, and his cock bobbed against his stomach, already hard. “Why would I do you a favor? You’ve never been nice to me.”

I could have given in, allowed what had happened yesterday and the way we’d used one another to heal to truly change us, but I couldn’t. Not yet. I’d let it shatter our boundaries and pull us closer, but I couldn’t break down that last barrier. The tiny, breakable wall made of Elmer’s glue and paste. Not while I knew what it meant that I had, quite possibly, been the last to see Vincent Romano.

“I’ll return the favor.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” I whispered.

A lie.

I wanted this life. Not the penthouse, the fancy bathrooms, and the prime New York real estate. I could do without those, but I wanted the little sister to talk to, the man to come home to, the idea that someone could actually depend on me like Bastian did now with Tessie.

I wanted to feel loved and wanted and trusted and me.

A version of me I could be proud of.

A life where the only duty I had was to make myself and the people I loved happy.

He opened the shower door and moved me aside, stealing the water from me. I shivered in the cold, my nipples pebbling and thighs shaking as I watched the water drip from his head down his chest, past the twin V lines, and to his erection.

Good Lord.

Showers were invented to watch water drip down Bastian’s skin.

“Take care of Tessie until I return.”

“That’s the favor you want?”

I’d thought we’d already settled this. It was hardly a favor. I would have done it anyway. Plus, he’d cleared me of all my shifts already.

My lips parted a little as I watched him kneel in front of me. “What are you doing?”

He kissed my inner thigh, bit down on the skin, and slid apart my lips. “Returning the favor,” he said before he latched onto my clit, and I realized he knew I’d already agreed to take care of Tessie.

He just needed an excuse to touch me.

Yes.

This was the life I wanted.

Tessie had a burger in one hand and fries in the other as Bastian and I made our way to the kitchen, dressed, hair blow dried, and bodies a respectable distance apart.

Didn’t matter.

I still felt him all over me.

Tessie bit into the burger and looked at us. “You guys took so long, so I ordered food.”

A greasy burger and the equivalent of oil with a side of fries hardly constituted as food, but I supposed Bastian and I couldn’t say anything after he’d screwed my brains out in the shower while Tessie waited for her breakfast.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, pocketed his keys and phone, and headed to the door. “Call me if you need something.”

I waited for the door to shut before taking a seat beside her and stealing a fry. “Do you have schoolwork?”

She slid her food from me and inched away a bit. “I finished it.”

I arched a brow. “Really?”

“Well, I’m almost done. I have piano practice.”

“Is that piano yours?” I nodded to the piano behind us, to the side of the living room in the open-plan apartment.

He had the craziest place I’d ever seen. A two-story penthouse with a view of Central Park. Marble flooring in the foyer, bathrooms, kitchen, and stairs. Dark wood in the living room, floor to ceiling curtains, and a wall to wall window overlooking the park.

The piano sat to the side of the living room, beside the stairwell. It’d been maintained well, like the rest of the penthouse, but I couldn’t picture him playing it. Or Tessie. She just didn’t seem like she had the attention span.

Tessie shook her head, her wild hair bouncing back and forth over her face. “It’s Bastian’s. He doesn’t play anymore, but he keeps it because he wants to teach Ever—” She stopped and took a bite of her burger.

“Who is Everett?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about Everett. I’ll get in trouble.”

“Not even for me?”

She thought about it for a few seconds. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

The guilt came instantly. I hadn’t asked for the bureau. I had asked because I genuinely wanted to know more about Bastian. But putting Tessie in this position wasn’t my best move. It was the reflex of a shameless undercover agent, used to extracting information from any source possible.

Sometimes, I hated myself.

I wondered if I’d ever shake away the parts of me I loathed.

The bed dipped and an arm wrapped around my waist late into the night. I’d been in a light sleep for hours, but I woke the instant Bastian’s skin touched mine. I glanced at the clock. Four in the morning.

When I turned to face him, the dim light from the hallway lit up the side of his face. Exhaustion lined his features. He looked like he’d aged a year in a day, and defeat—something I never thought I’d see on Bastian—looked inked on his skin.

“Sorry for waking you.” Always the asshole, he didn’t look sorry. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”

“You look tired.”

“My mind is racing.”

“Vincent?”

“Still missing. I don’t want to talk about it.” His ankle locked around mine.

“Tell me about the piano.” I let him pull my leg around his waist.

He’d taken off his clothes, so the only thing separating us were my panties, his boxers, and the Wharton School of Business shirt I’d stolen from his closet.

“Sometimes I play it. Sometimes I don’t.”

“Wow. So forthcoming. I think I’ll go to bed now.” I shut my eyes and hoped he’d say something.

“It’s a relic of the past, and I can’t part with it.”

My eyes flew open at the confession. How tired was he?

I traced a path along his face, taking in the way he stared at me like I was the only thing in the room.

“I don’t have any relics of my past,” I admitted.

“I’ve seen your place. It’s pretty bare. I just thought you’re either a minimalist or suck at managing your money and should ask for a refund on your Degory degree.”

I shoved his shoulder. “I just have nothing.”

Both in my fake apartment and my real one.

“Does that bother you?”

I considered giving him a bullshit answer, but for once in my life, I wanted to be real.

Not a liar.

Not a con.

Not Apate.

“Yes, but only because I want the memories attached to the object. My aunt raised me, but she never married and was always at work. There weren’t birthday parties and family Christmases. It was just us. Mostly me home alone, sometimes with a neighborhood grandma watching over me. I was given everything I needed, and I never asked for anything else. I always felt like a burden. Not because my aunt made me feel that way but because…”

I heaved a breath and relented. “Because my mom died giving birth to me, and that’s the biggest burden I can think of. I literally killed someone before I took my first breath in this world. So, when it came to things like pretty dresses and toys, I never felt like I deserved them. And now, I’m just used to not having anything, but not having anything and not having anyone means there are memories lacking in places my soul needs them.”

“You’re lonely.”

“I am.”

I felt bare before him. More naked than I was in L’Oscurità’s cellar. More naked than I was in my bedroom. More naked than I was in the hallway. More naked than I was in his shower. I’d stripped myself bare in all the places that mattered, and he could tear me apart right now, and I wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it.

That barrier we’d shattered couldn’t be replaced.

He didn’t move as he whispered against my lips. “I see you.”

“What do you see?”

“Everything.” His thumb brushed the skin beneath my knee. “It’s not your fault your mom died. You couldn’t have predicted that. You didn’t hurt her on purpose.”

“I know that logically, but it’s another thing to accept that emotionally.”

“What will it take?”

“I used to think it would take time to heal. Now, I’m not so sure.”

I’d confronted more about my past since I’d met Bastian than I had in the twenty-nine or so years before. The truth was, someone to fill the void that had swallowed me whole was what it took.

I hated that it was Bastian who did that because I’d never met a man who scared me more. Not because he could snap my body and discard of me as easily as a stale bag of chips but because despite every flaw he possessed—and there were many—he’d managed to crawl his way beneath my skin and sink hooks into me.

He hadn’t even tried.

The Jupiter to your Ganymede.

What delusions of romance.

He pressed on a sensitive spot on the inside of my knee when my breath hitched. “It’s never time. It’s finding someone to fill the void.”

“That sounds like experience talking.”

“It is. Over eight years ago, I had a girlfriend I planned on proposing to, she turned out to be a bigger bitch than a pregnant two-hundred-pound Mastiff, and I was lucky enough to find someone else I love to fill the void soon after.”

He loves someone.

A lump in my throat robbed me of air, filled with resentment and shock and all the jealousy I wished I could claw out of my body.

“And where is she?”

He avoided my question and tugged on the edge of the Wharton shirt. “I like this on you.”

I let him dodge the question. I wasn’t ready to hear what he had to say, but I opened my mouth, wanting to ask him what this was. What was happening.

As if he could read my mind, he tugged me closer to him and pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “Don’t question it. Just sleep.”