Page 149 of Sinful Like Us
She tells me, “Neither have I.” Her whole face brightens, treasuring a common fact that we share, and I try to force my affection in a cramped box.
Don’t go there.
Being stoic used to be too easy, but I have a serious problem now. I can’t look at Jane Cobalt with a blank expression—not when I’m engulfed with affection that ranges from innocentmy-heart-is-yoursto sensualI-want-to-fuck-you-on-this-piano.
Counteract this shit.
I stare at the window. Where heavy drapes frame a snow-piled landscape, so glaringly white that it practically sears the eye.
Christmas Eve is tomorrow, and as we all take breaks from executing “escape plans”—Jane’s cousins and siblings have slowly started to realize we can’t defeat Mother Nature. We have to wait, and the team now has a new objective.
Keep morale high.
Not just among bodyguards.
No one wants their client to be sad or moping during the holiday, and if we can make this snowed-in catastrophe easy for them, we’ll try.
Charlie plucks the card from my fingers. He burns it in a glass cup.
Arms crossed, I glance to my three o’clock. Sensing Tony’s presence, and sure enough, he lingers near the doorframe. His arrogant smirk on me.
I glare.
Oscar chats with him.
“Ignore Tony,” Jane whispers. “He’s bored and looking for entertainment.”
I nod once and bite harder on the toothpick. I hate the taste. I hate how my jaw aches, but I could hug Banks for his obsession with these motherfuckers because it’s a shield that could help me through the extended snowstorm. How is Banks doing pretending to bemein Philly? …I can’t know.
Hopefully he’s kept his head up. It’s hard not to worry about him.
Jane starts to gather the deck off the piano.
“We’re not done,” Charlie declares and bangs a high-pitched key. “Leave them there. Choose another.”
I eye Tony. He’s out of earshot, but he gesticulates towards us and speaks to Oscar. My best guess: he’s asking what Banks (akame) and Jane are doing over here. You know, just playing with Truth or Dare cards.
Talking about sex.
A weird thing for my brother to be doing alone with my girlfriend.
Clear-cut, the risk has just heightened, and we’ve been toying with trouble enough.
“Later,” I tell Charlie.
“No. Now.”
“Charlie,” Jane says hotly. “This is serious.”
“So is this.” His left hand presses keys, playing a melodic classical tune. “You shouldthank me, I’m giving you ample time to spend with your—”
“Charlie,” she hisses, wide-eyed.
“He can’t hear us over the music.”
Maybe, and that’s a weakmaybe.
“And anyway, he already thinks you’re sleeping with both Moretti brothers. This won’t make a difference.”
