BOUGHT: Age Gap Mafia Romance, page 12
“Trust.” The word slips out of my mouth before I even realize what I’m saying. Freudian slip? “I just mean you have to have a high level of trust to play these kinds of sexy little games.”
“Absolutely.” He pauses for a moment before saying, “I don’t want us to lie to one another.”
My heart stops.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Erin
I take a deep breath. “How are we lying to one another?”
“I told you my family will behave.” He chuckles.
My heart is pounding too hard to laugh along. I try to take another breath.
He continues, “They don’t know how to behave around new people. They’re going to circle and attack the moment you walk in the door.”
“Oh!” I force a light laugh to cover my nerves. “My sister is the same. You’ll see.”
I push through easy conversation until we reach our apartment, and I’m in a daze as we exchange greetings, making sure Cass gets down the two flights of stairs safely.
Lucian decides it’s easier to carry her in his arms while Mack brings the chair. Cass was more than happy to wrap her arms around his neck as he effortlessly carried her down all 26 steps. My sister is so eager to see anything besides the walls of our apartment.
She buckles herself into the passenger seat of the van Mack’s driving, and insists on closing the door herself.
Now, riding in a car that could buy me a house, driving behind an accessible van we could never hope to own, plastic wrapper crinkling as I hold a $10 bouquet for people who drink hundred-dollar bottles of wine, I wonder what I’m doing entering his world.
The top is up now, but of course, my hair won’t cooperate after the ride. I fuss with my part, trying to fix it in the mirror above me.
He reaches over, flipping it up with a snap. “Stop it. You’re stunning.”
He looks up at the review, engaging Ryan in our conversation. He’s happily playing with the door locks. “Too bad your roommate couldn’t make it.”
“Yeah,” Ryan sighs. “I wish she was with us more, but she can’t. She’s a work alcoholic.”
Ryan is laying on the cute a little thick.
“Workaholic,” I explain. “We’re moving out soon anyway.” I peek over my shoulder to smile at Ryan. “Aren’t we, Rye Rye?”
Ryan pipes up, “I’m getting my own room!”
“Cool, little man.” Lucian grins at him in the rearview.
Needing to change the subject—now—I bring up the latest episode of Power Rangers. Ryan basically abducts Lucian in a play-by-play of every kick the red one did.
And I spiral.
I can still feel the pinch in my neck, feel the heat of his threat.
Lucian can’t meet Bambi Moretti or her brother. I’m not sure if he’d recognize either of them, but we can’t take the risk.
I’ll talk to Bambi, then Valentino. I’ll find a way to fix this.
Until then, a new plan. Make him fall in love with us. All of us.
Maybe he can save us all. This dinner means everything. Our future depends on it.
Finding a lull in the conversation, “You sure your sister is okay riding with Mack?” Lucian asks me.
“Mack like Mac and Cheese?” Ryan asks, “The guy with the pictures on his neck?”
“Mr. Mack,” I correct him. “And yes. She’s fine. She was pretty happy about riding you earlier, too,” I tease.
“What do you say, dessert before dinner?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Awesome.”
Ice cream is a sweet moment, with all of us gathered around a pink table in the soft teal parlor. Rainbow sprinkles are scattered everywhere. This is the kind of moment I would cherish, as my book helps me realize the value of living in the present.
Only, I can’t focus.
My stomach hurts, and I can’t meet Lucian’s eye.
Good thing Ryan and Cass are stealing all his attention. Hopefully, he won’t notice my silence.
We all get into the van to continue the ride to dinner. “Blaze and his crew are holed up in Queens,” Lucian explains.
Staying near Bambi’s apartment, I’ve never been to this part of the city. Clothing boutiques line busy Austin Street, where dining options include old-school Italian, ramen, and Middle Eastern cuisine.
The busier part of the city quiets down as you reach residential Forest Hills, centered around a plaza enclosed by charming Tudor-style buildings, which gives way to a leafy neighborhood of half-timbered houses.
I gaze out the window in awe. “This is beautiful.”
The Bachmans all call it the Forest Hills house, which is charming. I try to picture myself living in this elegant, freestanding Federalist brick home, a true landmark majestically perched on a hill. It’s situated on a beautiful, quiet side street within the highly desirable Forest Hills Gardens.
The land is vast, making the historic home feel more like an estate.
We step inside their home to explore an elegant layout designed for comfortable living and entertaining. The first floor features a grand hall, a bright living room, a spacious dining area, and a modern eat-in kitchen with ample storage space.
Blaze approaches me, tall and broad, with thick, dark hair that is more wavy than curly and beautiful green eyes. Cleopatra is shorter and has curves like Cass, with straight, light brown hair. She’s dressed in a flowy, multi-patterned dress, nothing like what they sell in Posh. I like her instantly.
Blaze’s mother, Sharon, is well dressed, her graying hair mixed with pretty, pearl-blonde highlights. Falcon is clearly obsessed with her, never more than an arm’s reach away. He’s a big man with a thick neck and salt-and-pepper hair that curls just above his ears. The deep lines etched into his suntanned face light up with a warm smile as he strides down the aisle in his beloved, worn leather work boots.
Cleopatra gives us the tour, saying, “Dad’s been in construction his whole life. He’s helping me renovate the place while Blaze works.”
Blaze says, “Forest Hill is nice, but a little too far from my home in the Bronx.”
“Poor baby.” His ‘ma’ rolls her eyes. “You’re stuck in this mansion instead of our old project housing. It is what it is.”
“Blaze prefers his old digs,” Lucian explains. “Most of us Bachmans did not come from billionaire backgrounds.”
I realize that I don’t know anything about his past. Nothing. Aside from the fact that he’s from the city and the damage caused by a mistake he once made.
I push my sister’s chair up to the spot at the table where the family has already removed a chair. Does he have siblings? He hasn’t mentioned.
He’s obviously close to this group.
And Falcon clearly loves his daughter. “Have you seen Cleo’s wallpapering in the living room? It could be a professional job.”
Cleo says, “Dad, stop bragging.”
Falcon says, “Never.”
“Me neither,” Blaze swoops in, planting a loving kiss on the top of her head.
Cleopatra pauses to gather her emotions before saying, “After what happened to the Village... we knew we wanted to come back to the city, to be here with Lucian as we wait to see if we can move forward. Who knows how long that could be? We needed something that could fit all of us.”
The house definitely suits the four of them just fine. It’s stunning. My eyes keep wandering. It must have five bedrooms.
“We have a lot of guests,” she adds as if she’s reading my mind. “Family visiting from the Estate in Italy.”
“What if you can’t rebuild?” Cass wrinkles her nose at Cleopatra.
I wish I had a secret rubber band I could snap against Cass under the table every time she asks a question that’s too personal. “Cass…”
“Good question,” Cleo answers with a smile. “I asked myself the same thing, but I have to keep myself busy while we’re in limbo or I’ll go crazy. Speaking of which—let me go grab the pasta from the oven.”
She leaves the table, going deeper into the kitchen.
Falcon says, “With the work my little girl has done on this place, they’ll easily be able to sell it for way more if we leave the city.”
“It’s sweet,” Cass says, trying to recover from her earlier invasive question, “you live here with your in-laws.” But then she follows it up with a classic Cass comment, “Most women can’t stand theirs.”
“Sharon’s my mother-in-law, and I adore her,” Cleo says as she places a steaming casserole dish on the table. “And Falcon’s my dad.”
Curious.
Going back to reassuring his daughter, Falcon says, “The Bachman Estate in Italy is like heaven on Earth.” He wraps his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “It’ll be fine if we leave the city.”
“Don’t breathe life into that idea, Dad,” Blaze interjects.
Cass butts in with, “You call him Dad?”
Blaze answers with a, “Yup, and Cleo calls Ma, Mom.”
“We’re weird, we know,” Cleo says, gazing lovingly at Blaze as if she sees nothing but beauty between them.
An ache of need pierces my chest as I watch them, the feeling so intense I have to look away.
“They are collectively your parents?” Cass asks.
“Uh-huh,” Cleo giggles.
Drop it, Cass, I beg silently. She doesn’t, instead furrowing her brow in confusion. “But you’re married.”
“Yeah.” Cleopatra’s face flushes pink.
I try to save her. “You don’t have to explain—”
“Yes, you do, sweetheart, go on,” Blaze says, clearly thinking his wife is adorable. “Enlighten our guests.”
“Uh—we were step-siblings. We even lived together at one point when we were teens?” Cleo’s voice rises an octave at the end of the sentence. She laughs, shaking her head. “It doesn’t get any less weird the more times I tell it.”
“Okay,” Cass slaps the table. "Spill it. We want to hear every spicy detail. How did you get involved in this forbidden relationship?”
“Cass—stop.” I reach out to touch Cleopatra’s hand. “Sorry about my sister; she’s been reading too many romance novels.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Cass cries. “I’m stuck in a wheelchair, for God’s sake. One must live vicariously through books when one cannot participate.”
Instead of cringing like most do at the mention of her chair, Cleo bursts into a belly laugh at Cass’s joke. Good-naturedly, she says, “I’ll tell you this. He’s not a werewolf.”
“Sorry,” I say. “My sister is the one person from England with no manners.”
Cass jokes back, “And mine’s the only one who doesn’t know how to have fun.”
Ryan sighs. “Aunt Rin does put me to bed too early.”
Sharon and Falcon share a laugh. Falcon asks Ryan, “Hey buddy. Would you like to help me take the steaks off the grill? I could use a hand.”
He glances at Cass. “Mom?”
“Sure.”
“Alright!” He pops up, joining Falcon. They head out the back door to where the grill must be.
I glance at Lucian. He’s been unusually silent. He’s now filling water glasses from a crystal pitcher.
“Sharon?” he offers.
“Oh, yes, please.” She holds out her glass and says, “Thank you, honey!”
“Well, if I’m not allowed to ask about your hot stepbrother real-life romance, how’d you find a place with so much land? All the yards in this city are a lick of grass at most. You’ve got a garden!”
“It’s actually an interesting story,” Cleo says. “I’ve been researching the history of the house, and apparently, during the Depression and over the decades, many families chose to, or needed to, sell off parts of their land to someone who then built a new house on it. This house spans three lots. A rarity within Forest Hills, even, not just the city.”
“We’re lucky.” Cleo looks down, thinking about the Village, I’m sure, and how grateful she is to be back in the city.
“We are lucky,” Blaze says, reaching over and taking her hand. “In every kind of way.”
“Except for what happened to your Village,” Cass interjects. “That was terrible. Is it just you guys in the city now? I thought there were tons of Bachman?”
“Cass…” I don’t even know how to control her anymore.
“It’s okay, Erin,” Blaze answers. “It was safer to move as many out as we could for now. We have lawyers living at The West,”—a tower of apartments on the West side—“helping us figure out the business side of recovery, and then a group of single brothers dispersed through the city…” he finishes by saying, “working on the ground level stuff.”
“Single brothers!” Cass turns to Cleo. “And are they as hot as these two?
Cleo blushes. “Bachman men are known for being handsome.” She peeks at Blaze, saying, “But I’m partial to one.”
Blaze gives his wife the sexiest wink. Those two are so cute together. I ache with jealousy.
“Tell me where you’re hiding them,” Cass says.
“We’d have to kill you,” Blaze jokes.
“Believe me, someone already tried.” Cass rolls her eyes. “And I have the wheelchair to prove it. No, thank you.”
A heavy silence comes over the room. Cass takes a sip of her water.
“Can I ask, what happened?” Cleo asks her.
“Not on our first date, Cleo. You’ll have to work harder than that.” Cass laughs. “Now, did I see a bottle of wine somewhere?”
Ah, my sister.
“I’ll grab another one.” Cleopatra smiles sweetly, utterly unfazed by my sister. She puts a hand on Cass’s shoulder. “White or red?”
“White, please.”
Falcon and Ryan return with a massive platter of juicy steaks. “We’ve got the meat!” Ryan announces proudly.
“Ryan’s back. No more real talk,” I whisper to Cass. She nods.
“I think we have everything. Wait. I forgot something in the foyer!” Sharon quickly heads to the front of the house. Everyone settles in her absence, and the meat passes around the table.
Falcon places a smaller steak on her plate while she's away. “This one’s for my girl.”
Sharon then returns with the flowers I brought, now beautifully arranged in a large, clear glass vase. “I love this bouquet! Thank you for bringing them. I never think to buy fresh flowers.”
She proudly places them in the center of the table.
Falcon’s eyes immediately go red, his face starting to swell. “Are there Peruvian lilies in that bouquet?” he asks me.
“Oh no! Oh my gosh. I have no idea. I didn’t even think to ask if your family had allergies!” I push back my chair and go to grab the vase to take it away.
“Who would? It’s flowers, not food.” Falcon laughs, dabbing at his eyes with his napkin. He clears his throat.
I lunge for the vase.
Sharon beats me to it. “I’ve got it, honey. I’ll just put these on the screened-in porch. I can enjoy them with my coffee in the morning.” She pats Falcon’s shoulder lovingly as she goes. “Been married to you twice, and I’m still learning new things about you, babe.” She flips the switch on the wall as she leaves, sending the wooden fan above us spinning to bring in fresh air. “I guess it’s good I never buy flowers!”
“Married twice?” Cass whispers to me.
“Shh.”
“I give her roses,” Falcon gasps. “For both of our anniversaries.”
“That’s sweet.”
Cleopatra shakes her head. “I’m so sorry, Erin. I should have thought of it when you first brought the flowers. That sure was sweet of you, though.”
Deciding to join the conversation, Ryan chimes in with, “At least it’s not a nut allergy. That’ll make you die.”
“Ryan,” I chide.
Poor Falcon. His eyes keep running. He coughs. I feel terrible. They’ve gone out of their way to host us, and I’ve brought poison into their home.
“I’ll live,” he chokes out.
I peek at Lucian for comfort, but he’s deep in a low conversation with Blaze. This is not going well.
Things do settle down, thankfully. Falcon lives to tell us about the amazing cut of steak he’s serving us. Sharon begins dishing second helpings of her famous cracker-topped mac n’ cheese.
After only hanging out with us three women at home and eating the cheap boxed pasta, Ryan is in heaven.
He insisted on sitting between me and Lucian. Cute, right? It makes my uterus ache, having an adorable baby sandwiched between my boyfriend and me.
That or I’m getting an ulcer from the stress of this whole situation.
Lucian notices Ryan is struggling with his chicken, and without being asked, he reaches over to cut his steak.
The tender display does nothing to ease my uterus.
I’m also almost lactose intolerant, but my manners would never let me turn down a hostess’s dish. I ignore the deep womb throb, chalking it up to gas from the mac n’ cheese.
Or maybe the bites of chocolate cherry ice cream Ryan force-fed me before dinner.
Their family of four insists we stay put while they clear the table.
I’m so desperate, I’m holding my hands like earmuffs over my three-year-old nephew’s ears, whispering over his head, “What does your family think of me so far?”
He leans over Ryan and whispers back. “You mean other than when you tried to kill one of them?”
Ryan giggles. My earmuffs are clearly useless, so I drop my hands to my lap. “They say to make an impression.”
Holding a glass pitcher of water in his hand, Lucian stops mid-pour. He cooly cocks a brow. “I think you mean a good impression.”
He’s teasing, I know he is, but I’m still on edge.
“You know,” Ryan draws attention to him, and I’m grateful as I close my eyes tight for a moment. “That ice cream was delicious.” He pushes a stalk of broccoli around his plate, the only plate left on the table, giving us that wide-eyed innocent look. “I’m not complaining or nothing.”
