chapter Nineteen
Annoying
Monique
Three months later…
“Why are you lifting him,” Misha growls.
“Not now, Misha,” I snap back, as I try to tighten my hold on a squirming Sammy.
He is not having a good day. He seems to be having a meltdown every hour on the hour. I blame whatever visions he’s having. I don’t know what’s going on in his head, but it has been vicious today. The poor thing needs a little peace.
“Put. Him. Down,” Misha orders.
“Misha,” I hiss.
“Just listen,” Misha grunts.
I place Sammy on his feet and Misha comes to kneel before him. He pinches Sammy’s chin in his fingers and catches his eyes. Sammy stops squirming immediately.
Misha looks up at me. “You say pressure is good for him, Da?”
I nod.
“Good, I have just the thing. Come, young Sam. Three is old enough,” Misha nods.
“What? Old enough for what?” I gasp and go to throw myself in front of Sammy. “He’s not even three yet.”
Misha moves faster, scooping Sammy up in his arms. “Old enough to hang with Uncles. I make visit to Uri and Michael today. Sammy come with.”
I narrow my eyes at him. I’m not letting this nut take this baby anywhere. I open my mouth to say just that, when LaSalle enters the kitchen.
Sensing the tension in the room, he comes right to me and wraps an arm around my waist. He dips to kiss my forehead. Then looks between me and Misha.
“What has he done now,” LaSalle grunts.
I smirk and give Misha a look that says, ‘you done fucked up now’. I fold my arms over my chest and look up at LaSalle. I nod at Misha and Sammy.
“He’s trying to take Sammy with him to see Uri and Michael. He says three is old enough, but this is Misha. Old enough for what?” I hiss the last words, looking directly at Misha.
A look passes between Misha and LaSalle. I look back and forth between them. LaSalle only squeezes my waist.
“They’ll be fine,” LaSalle murmurs.
“What,” I gasp.
“It’s fine, Baby,” he looks me in the eyes. “He’s right. Sammy will be three in a few short months, he will be fine. You said it yourself. Sammy’s a smart boy.”
“You trust your son with this nut?” I point at Misha. “Sammy’s not even having a good day.”
“Relax, Mo-mo,” Sammy giggles.
My head whips in his direction and my mouth falls open. Sammy has a grin on his little face, as Misha holds him in his arms. I groan.
“I do not have a good feeling about this,” I shake my head.
“Is she always like this?” Misha pokes.
“Fu-,” I stop myself and hold my tongue. “Have a nice day, Misha,” I say sugary sweet.
Misha laughs and walks away with Sammy, who now seems to be having a good day. I swear that man breathes to annoy the life out of me. One of these days there will not be children around and I will kick his damn ass. I swear it’s going to happen.
LaSalle snatches my chin, causing me to look up at him. “Thank you, but he will be fine,” he chuckles when I don’t respond. “You know my mother used to tell us that our face would freeze into a perpetual frown if we scowled enough. You’re too pretty for that to happen. My son is fine. I trust Uri and Michael.”
“I’m not worried about Uri and Michael,” I huff.
“Misha doesn’t have a death wish. Come with me. I have some errands to run. You haven’t been out of the house much,” LaSalle says, dropping his hand from my face.
I perk up instantly. Camille took the girls with her for a play date. Sammy remained behind because he was having such a bad day.
With all the children out of the house, I was only going to sit around and write. I’m at an impasse in my book, so I jump at the chance to get out of here.
~B~
Sam
I did have errands to run, but I changed my mind, when I saw how happy Monique was to get out of the house. I made a detour to one of my restaurants. It’s one of my favorites.
We have a rooftop dining area. It’s too cold for New Yorkers to dine out there this time of the season. So, I was sure we could have it to ourselves.
“How’s your therapy going,” I ask as we share a plate of mussels.
As brisk as the weather is, you would think it was summer, the way her face is lit up. I know security has been tight, but it hadn’t dawned on me how little she gets to go out. Her physical therapist comes to the house, five times a week.
“It’s coming along. I have a decent range of motion. I’m not complaining. I’ll be back to kicking ass and taking names later in no time,” she giggles.
I shake my head. “Czar used to tell some pretty amusing stories about you. The shit the two of you got away with,” I cover my mouth as I laugh.
Her brown eyes twinkle, lighting up her face all the more. The purple turtleneck sweater dress she has on is perfect for her complexion. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, showcasing her flawless features.
Monique rolls her eyes. “All of my siblings have big mouths. I don’t know where they get that from. You can’t pry information out of my father.”
“Yeah, that man is a steel vault,” I chuckle.
“Tell me about it. I like your family though. They’re all so warm and welcoming. Your mother is a riot,” she laughs.
I give a shiver and wince. “Now that woman, she’s where I really got my ruthlessness. Her wooden spoon put the fear of God into the four of us.”
“What, stop lying. Minnie would never,” she gasps, giving me that gorgeous smile.
“Yes, she would. Ask Bobby,” I snort. “He was the one always getting his ass whipped. I was too smart for that. I should have been the lawyer in the family. I talked my way out of trouble every time.”
She tilts her head at me. “I saw the law degree. You did go to school for law,” she says softly.
I nod. “Yes, but my skills for law were not the ones I needed most. Turns out that I was born to be a businessman.”
“Yup, a business,” she smirks and winks at me.
“Don’t let anyone tell you different,” I smirk back.
“I think you are forgetting who you are talking to,” she lifts a brow.
“Nope, I’m just being normal on a perfectly normal day,” I reply and sip my wine.
She looks around the rooftop. “This is not normal, but I’ll let you have that. I’m not a dream killer.”
“Dreams…no,” I chuckle and wink at her.
She twists her lips over a smile. “Watch it.”
“Yes ma’am,” I hold my hands up.
“So, do you think Misha is buying our story?” she says quietly.
My smile falls slightly and I sigh. “Honestly, I don’t know where his head is. He’s still watching us,” I frown. “Well, he’s watching you. I know that for sure.”
“What are we going to do? I mean no one expects you to run into a marriage after your wife was just gunned down. Not even if you two were filing for a divorce. But at some point, he’s going to question our engagement,” Monique says to the table.
“We have time,” I say simply. She lifts a questioning brow at me. “Trust me, we have time.”
“I trust you,” her words come out like a promise, causing something to shift in me.
All playfulness leaves me. I know instantly our day has ended. I won’t let that door open.