Series: Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Hi, buddy,” he says as Shadow starts purring loudly. “You are the coolest cat, you know that?”
I smile and join in on petting Shadow. “Sorry I was bitchy.”
“Don’t apologize.” He kisses the top of my head like a real boyfriend. “I fucked your life up, I know.” He lowers his head and brushes his lips across mine. “I appreciate you letting me stay here.”
And just like that, I forgive him for everything.
Chapter Twelve
Armando
The next few days, I’m better about communicating with Hannah. I text her at the end of the day to tell her when and where I’ll see her. Or what’s for dinner. I was a dick that night she called me out, and I deserved a tongue-lashing. But Hannah gave me grace, and for that, I appreciate her even more.
It doesn’t kill me to treat her like the queen she is. At least for now, while we’re doing this. It’s not a relationship because there’s a deadline on it. I find out who wants me dead, get rid of them, and I can move back into my own place.
I wish I had something more to offer her, but I don’t. I got nothing for anybody at this point. I’m not fit for any kind of relationship.
I stop at the mortuary on my way to Hannah’s. I’d called my mom in Arizona to ask, and she gave me the name—Angel’s Wings, run by a guy named Angelo. Of course he’s Italian. Don G wouldn’t give business elsewhere if there was a paisano available. Plus, I imagine there are advantages to having a mortician in your pocket. Hiding evidence or whatever.
I push my way into the quiet lounge. There are candles burning in front of a cross and pamphlets on grieving. A thirty-something woman in a tasteful blue dress comes out to greet me. I wonder if she’s related to Angelo. This doesn’t seem like the kind of business you hire outsiders for. No one wants to work in a mortuary, right?
“Welcome.” Her voice is hushed and respectful, like we’re in a church. “How may I help you?”
“I’m here to see Angelo. Tell him it’s Mando, Don Pachino’s nephew.”
I see recognition and curiosity glint in her eyes. Definitely a family business. She’s not just some receptionist—she knows the organization.
“Of course,” she says smoothly. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”
A few moments later, a short balding man in his sixties comes out from a room down the hall, tugging the lapels of his suit jacket closed around his protruding belly. He holds out his hand like I’m an old friend. “Mando, what can I do for you?”
“Yeah. Can I go back?” I lift my chin toward his office.
He only falters for a second. He’s a little nervous, but I doubt he’s done anything to warrant fear of the Family. The greeting was warm, just perplexed. “Of course, come on back.”
I follow him back and sit down across from his desk as he straightens a pile of papers. “I know you’re the mortuary of choice for my family, so thank you for your service over the years.” I’m fucking rusty at greasing wheels—real rusty. But this is for Hannah, so I’m gonna make it work.
Angelo bobs his head, still concerned. “Of course, anything for Don Pachino and his family members.”
“I’ll get right to the point. You order flowers for the caskets? When people don’t have their own florist or don’t want to do it themselves?”
“Yes.” The word holds a question.
I push a stack of Hannah’s cards across the desk. “I’d like you to order through this business—as a favor to me.” I tap the stack. This is how deals get done in La Famiglia. I don’t ask—I tell. But then I call it a favor.
Up to him if he wants to question whether he has to do it or if it’s a polite request.
Nah, fuck that. Even polite requests get followed when you’re dealing with the Pachinos.
Do I wonder if Don G would be pissed I’m throwing around his name to help the girl I’m fucking? Only a little. If he gets pissed, I’ll take the heat. I didn’t think it merited begging permission before I went in. I’m not killing anyone here. Just making a business deal.
Angelo picks up one of the cards and looks it over. “I’d be happy to.”
There. Easy as that.
I stand up. “Appreciate it.” I stand up and shake his head. “I’ll show myself out. Buona giornata.”
“Buona giornata,” Angelo says to my back.
I don’t look back.
When I get home—well, to Hannah’s home, but it feels way more like mine now than that empty fucking apartment with all my old shit that I can’t go back to—I find her in the shower.
I strip out of my clothes and join her for another fuck-fest.
Because putting my dick in Hannah is pretty much the only thing worth living for at this point.