We fall into a routine, and it’s good for a while.
Brody doesn’t mention moving back to his old neighborhood and I don’t push him. I feel a little guilty, since I’m being kind of selfish by staying at the oasis. I mean, he’s the leader of his family, and he should be as close to them as possible—and there’s no real reason why we can’t live at his place, except I’m more comfortable here.
I feel bad, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
And everything else is too good.
We’re sleeping together regularly now. Sometimes, we’re up half the night having sex and talking to each other, and I feel like I’m getting to know him in ways I never dreamed were possible. He’s opening up, slowly at first, but more and more each day, and I replace myself telling him things I’ve never told anyone else. He doesn’t judge me, and I don’t judge him, and it’s like I’m becoming a more confident person because of that.
Except I start noticing small things. He stays late at work a few times, and when I ask about it, he’s cagey. One Saturday morning, he disappears for a few hours, and refuses to say where he went, only that he had a work meeting.
There are other unexplained absences. And under most circumstances, I probably wouldn’t think twice about it, but he’s moody and brooding, like there’s something seriously wrong, and I start to get paranoid.
“Can we talk?” It’s been a month since he moved into the oasis. There hasn’t been much progress on the Waterfront project—every time I mention trying to make something happen, he just waves me off and says he’s handling it—and I’m at the point where I wonder if he just gave up on our plans.
He puts down his coffee and leans back in his chair. We’re out back and it’s a beautiful morning. Except I’m so nervous I’m starting to sweat a little bit, and instead of sitting right next to him, I put the table between us. His eyebrows raise, since normally I like to be as close as possible, but right now I need a little distance to keep my confidence up.
“What’s the matter?” he asks.
“I need you to be honest with me.” I shimmy in my chair and clear my throat. “I want to start out by saying that I know we don’t owe each other anything. We never had a conversation about how this would work—” I gesture between the two of us. “And I know you’re probably used to, uh, a much looser lifestyle, so I’m trying very hard to be generous here, and—”
He holds up a hand. “Baby, what the hell are you talking about?”
“You’ve been disappearing a lot lately and I just want to say that I’m not really mad, I mean I don’t like it and I thought we had something nice going, but I just want you to be honest with me and tell me—” I stop because I can’t even finish that sentence. He’s staring with pure astonishment on his face, and that kind of pisses me off. I mean, it’s not like he’s been subtle about it.
“Do you think I’m seeing someone else?” he asks.
“It’s the sneaking around, Brody. You keep disappearing and when I ask about it, you brush me off and pretend like it’s a work thing. And no, don’t start shaking your head, I’m not being paranoid.”
“You’re not,” he agrees and it feels like a knife to my kidney. And then he says, “But you’re wrong. I’m not seeing anyone else.”
“Just tell me the truth, okay? I’m not going to lose my mind and start crying or something. I just want to know where I stand.”
Mostly so I know how I can feel about him, because I thought our relationship was trending in one direction, but right now I feel like it’s all about to crash and burn.
“I swear, I’m not seeing anyone but you.” He hesitates then gets up from his chair and comes around the table. He kneels next to me and takes my hand in his, and he looks completely sincere. “I should have told you sooner. I wanted to say something, but you’re not going to like it.”
I squeeze his hand, my heart racing. “Just tell me, okay? Just say it so we can deal with whatever’s going on.”
“I’ve been meeting with Luciano Santoro.”
I wasn’t expecting that. I stare at him in total shock and slowly pull my hand from his. He doesn’t move though, and stays kneeling next to my chair.
“You’ve been doing… what?” I shake my head, trying to clear it. I was sure he was seeing someone and I had been preparing myself for a little heartbreak. But this… I wasn’t expecting this.
He takes a deep breath and blows it out. “You remember the deal we cut with Captain Kennedy. It became clear to me that the only way I could make that happen was by contacting Santoro and making him believe that I wanted to deal with him directly. But I also knew that you and your family are very emotional when it comes to that man, and I decided I needed to keep you in the dark as much as I could.”
I stare at him as I put all the pieces together. I assumed that he’d dropped the whole getting Santoro arrested thing and that his plan had fallen apart—or that he was still busy working on something else. But I had no idea that he was in direct contact with Santoro and had been for nearly a month.
My body shivers as a chill runs through me. “Brody, that’s insane.” I push my chair back and stand. He gets to his feet but doesn’t come closer as I pace away. “Santoro is dangerous. If he figures out what you’re doing—”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you. The less people know, the better. Not even my brothers are aware.”
“But you should have told me.” I stare at him, trembling slightly. “What are you even talking to Santoro for? I mean, what are you trying to give him?”
He tells me the whole story, from the first meeting to the last. “That’s why I need your father’s help. I was going to have to tell you all this eventually, I just hoped that I’d have more time.”
I close my eyes and nod. “And that’s why you want all the dirt Simon has squirreled away.”
“Santoro believes that I’m willing to sell your father out in exchange for a big chunk of new territory for my family. I’m inches away from getting him to agree to a meeting.” He watches as I pace back and forth, wringing my hands together. “All I need is for your father to show up and I’ll do the rest.”
“This is crazy. This is happening too fast. You should’ve told me, so we could have worked on something together—”
He steps closer and catches my wrist. I think about yanking back, but I feel a strange sense of relief when he pulls me into his chest and hugs me tight. I close my eyes and breathe in his smell, and I try not to feel like a total moron for how happy I am that he’s not cheating on me.
“I should have trusted you sooner,” he says very quietly. His heart’s beating a slow, steady rhythm. “I didn’t need to keep this entirely to myself. You’re right, you could have helped me sooner, and maybe this would’ve been easier if I had you to talk to. I’m so sorry that you felt like I was seeing someone behind your back, but I swear, baby, that’s not going to be a problem.”
“I almost wish you were,” I mumble and pull back to look at him.
“Do you really mean that?”
“No. I mean, I don’t like that you’ve been meeting with Santoro, but no.”
“You want me all to yourself.”
I touch his cheek and nod. “I want you all to myself. But mostly I want you to let me in.”
“I will. I promise. I’m working on that.”
I chew my lip and get up on my toes so I can kiss him. He kisses me back, and when I pull away, I feel a deep, throbbing longing inside my core.
“I want you to walk me through all your plans. I want to hear all of it.”
“I can do that.”
“Then we’ll decide what comes next, and we’ll decide it together.”
He nods slowly. “I can do that too.”
“Good. Let me help. And I promise, I’ll let you help me when I need it. We can do that for each other, right?”
“Right.” He leans down and kisses me. “That’s why we work.”
“That’s why we work,” I echo and another low thrum runs down my spine. We work. He’s right, we work in a way I’ve never felt before, and I don’t want to let go of this moment.
But we have a gangster to set up and a war to finish.
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