I stop spinning my poker chip and frown. “What?”
Rory stares at me from across the breakfast table, like she just discovered I only have one brain cell, and she’s wondering how I survive day-to-day. “She wants you to grovel, Rafe.” Her lip curls into a sneer. “And rightly so. Goose, no wonder she disappeared off the face of the planet, you absolute weirdo.”
I cut a knuckle over my jaw and stare at the marble countertop. I wonder if I smack my head against it, if it’ll knock some common sense into me. The worst part about Rory’s reaction is that I’ve only told her the super-sanitized version of the story. Losing the kiss bet, the check, and the necklace. I skipped over the whole hotline thing, the wild enemies-with-benefits sex, and of course, the fact that I dragged Penny out to the yacht bow in the pissing rain. And she’s reacting like this?
Yeah, I’m a grade-A cunt.
I was so blinkered by the bad luck Penny brought me, I didn’t stop to think about how I hurt her. I’d thought the million-dollar check would be enough to sweeten the blow, but fuck, seeing it still crumpled up on her dresser this morning was a knife in the chest. She hated me so much, she didn’t even cash it in?
The kettle squeals and Rory jumps up to grab three mugs from the cabinet. As I watch her, a rare surge of panic nips at my nerves. “Well, what the fuck do I do?”
“Apologize, for starters.”
“Tried that, didn’t work.”
Beside me, Angelo laughs into his eggs. I turn to glare at him. “How did you grovel?”
He looks up at me lazily. “I killed her seventy-year-old fiance with a bullet to the head. What did I need to grovel for?”
Rory hums her approval. I roll my eyes, a cocktail of bitterness and jealousy filling me. My brother and his wife are a sickening picture of marital bliss. They’re still wearing their matching jumpsuits after an early morning flight. Angelo made breakfast; Rory’s making the tea. Christ, I used to pity made men who’ve walked down the aisle, and now I’m possessed with the thought of standing at the top of one, waiting for Penny. Bet she looks hot in white. She looks hot in everything.
But first, grovel. Right.
“Your first issue, is that it looks like you only came back for her because you found out the necklace belonged to your mama.” Rory scoops a heap of sugar into a mug and stirs it thoughtfully. “She’s probably thinking if that wasn’t the case, you’d have never bashed down her door.” She glances at me. “Very Gabe-ish of you, by the way.”
Angelo laughs again. He’s in an annoyingly good mood today. “You kidding? Anyone with eyes could see Rafe was always going to go crawling back. I was so certain, I’ve got three different bets going on how long it’d take.”
I frown. “You don’t bet.”
“And you don’t wear sweats and watch trash TV with my wife. I made an exception.”
Groaning, I run a hand over my face. My shirt cuff smells like Penny’s perfume, and it makes me want to claw my eyeballs out. Truth is, Gabe telling me Penny’s lucky necklace was our mama’s was the excuse, not the reason. Sure, it’s the most perfect twist of fate, one that makes me not give a flying fuck that she’s the unluckiest thing to ever happen to me, but I was at the point where any excuse would have sufficed. Hell, once I discovered she hadn’t really left town, I’d have kicked down her door over leaving a paperclip in her apartment.
Rory places a steaming mug in front of me. “Here’s your tea, Rafey,” she says sweetly. Too sweetly. As I look down at the steaming liquid, Angelo nudges it out of reach. “Don’t drink that,” he mutters, chomping on a slice of toast. “I need you sharp today.”
“Gesù Cristo.” I glance up at Rory’s back as she makes teas for her and Angelo. Using a different spoon, obviously. “Your girl’s a psycho,” I bite out in rapid Italian.
“So’s yours,” he grunts back. “I overheard Gabe’s men talking about the state of your yacht.”
I grimace. I haven’t been back there since I left Penny in my bed. Not because I knew it’d be inhabitable, but because the thought of being in rooms she once filled makes me feel violent.
“Fuck it, I’ll just force her to be with me. That’s what everyone else does—”
Angelo’s fist reaches out and clamps over mine. I hadn’t even realized I was spinning my poker chip again, this time at a million revolutions per minute. “All those spreadsheets and contracts, and you’re still stupid. It’s easy. All she wants is for you to prove to her that you’re not the massive cock you’ve made yourself out to be.” He lets go of my hand and stabs at his bacon. “You’ll fix this, because that’s what you do: fix things. Even if you have to drag your balls over a bed of burning coals while serenading her, you’ll do it.” He pauses, a smirk tilting his lips. “I’ll rip the shit out of you for the next ten years, but you’ll do it.”
My jaw works. Unfortunately, I know he’s right. He takes my silence as agreement. “Good. Have you finished being a whiny bitch? Because we need to talk about more pressing issues.”
I’m still distracted by red hair and slamming doors. “Like what?”
“Like Gabe. He’s gone AWOL again.” He eyes me. “You just had to go and get stabbed, didn’t you?”
My stare hardens on his. I haven’t told him I saw Gabe at the church yesterday, let alone the state of him. “You know what he’s like—he’ll be back.”
“Yes, but where has he gone and for how long? He’s not just our brother now; he’s our consigliere. He’s got a job to do. Just because Dante’s been dealt with, doesn’t mean he can fuck off on vacation whenever he likes.” He glances over his shoulder into the hall, and lowers his voice. “Besides, I don’t like dealing with his men. You’ve read Lord of the Flies, right?”
“Don’t worry about Gabe,” Rory chimes in, sliding a mug in front of Angelo and taking her seat at the breakfast bar. “He’s fine.”
I swipe a slice of toast off my brother’s plate before he can reach for it. “Yeah? And how would you know, Psychic Sally?”
“I spoke to him last night.”
We both stare at her. Angelo clears his throat. “You what?”
Her eye roll disappears behind a veil of steam as she lifts her mug to her lips. “Jeez, you two are such men. If you’re worried about him, just call him.”
The silence is tinged with disbelief. Rory takes a lazy gulp, eyes darting between me and my brother.
“You know where Gabe is?” Angelo asks her calmly.
“Yeah, but I’m not a snitch.” Her cell vibrates on the counter, and her eyes light up. “Oh my goose, it’s Matt, which means it might be Penny!”
My heart thumps on the double at the sound of her name. I sit up straighter, suddenly not giving a flying fuck about Gabe’s whereabouts. “Answer it.”
Rory looks at me like I’ve gone mad. “In front of you? As if!”
She flounces out of the room and up the stairs, cell clutched to her ear.
Angelo lets his fork clatter to his plate. “I knew I shouldn’t let her hang out with Gabe in the garage so much. He’s a bad influence.”
I frisbee the half-eaten toast at him. “Your wife just tried to poison me; I think she can handle herself.” Rising to my feet, I tighten my cufflinks and stride toward the door. “I’m off. Got shit to do.”
“Like what?”
“Like Googling what the fuck groveling means.”
Angelo calls my name as I cross the doorway. I turn and meet his half-grin.
“She was calling the hotline, wasn’t she?”
Jaw tight, I nod.
“And you were listening to her calls, weren’t you?”
I nod again, and my brother bursts into the loudest laugh. “Fuck me, I can’t wait to see how this pans out. When I found out Rory was calling the hotline, I just didn’t listen. If you’d just done the same, you’d be getting your dick wet right now.”
I glare at him. “You didn’t listen to any of Rory’s calls?”
“Nah. I’m not nosy, like you.”
“Don’t worry; you weren’t missing out on much, brother. Her confessions were shit.”
Before he can jump up and swing for me, I stroll out to the entryway, flipping him off over my shoulder.
