Page 23 of Devil's Iris
A crazed laugh escapes me at the thought, giddy excitement flooding my system.
He’ll say no, obviously. I’m not delusional enough to think he would actually marry me. But that leaves room to negotiate down to six months, or at least three. That should be long enough to have Rick and his men too scared to ever try to mess with my family again.
I’m not stupid. Even though Romero’s a lawyer by day, I know what he is by night.A Nightshade. The mafia syndicate that rules the entire city. And lesser gangsters like the Mudrats and whatever group Rick belongs to fear them and avoid getting on their radar like their lives depend on it. Because they probably do.
Once Romero rejects the marriage idea, I’ll try to negotiate for public dates. The more people see me with him, the more they’ll think he cares about me—and stay away from me and my family.
I nod, completely sold on the plan now. Maybe my association with him might even help me get a job. Just like some people try to avoid the Nightshades, others would do anything to get in their good graces. Because having them in your corner makes you almost untouchable.
Yes.I’m doing this.
Before I can chicken out, I hurry to my room and grab his business card. Then I quickly type his number in and dial.
He picks up on the second ring.
“Hello?” His familiar, deeply masculine voice washes overme, sending my heart into overdrive and making my stomach do backflips.
“Hey, this is Leni Barlowe. You helped me at the police station earlier this week, and we met again at that party two nights ago?” My voice pitches up nervously. What if he doesn’t remember me? I didn’t think that far. “You drove me home.”
“If it isn’t my little troublemaker.”
“Haha,” I deadpan, not cracking a smile.At least he knows who’s on the line.Sweat makes the phone slippery in my grip as my nerves spike. “Remember that savior complex thingy I mentioned before? I think I might need it again.”
He chuckles. “Are you in trouble again?”
Understatement of the century.“Can we meet somewhere? It’s too complicated to explain over the phone.”
He suggests some fancy restaurant down in Williamsburg, and my mouth waters, but I can’t afford distractions. I need to make my request and find out if I’m getting rejected quickly, not while stuffing Italian food down my throat.
“No, we need somewhere quiet where we can talk. Meet me at the Clinton Hill Library in thirty minutes.”
“Do you think I have time lying around to meet you at some random library?” The question is serious, but I detect a hint of curiosity in his tone. He’s intrigued.
“I know you probably don’t, but I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.” I hold my breath until he lets out a resigned sigh.
“Alright.”
Holy shit. He said yes.I pump my fist in the air, then clear my throat. “Cool. See you then.” I hang up with trembling hands.This is really happening.Him agreeing to meet up isn’t an agreement to anything else, of course—but it’s a promising first step.
Now… to get dressed.
Knees a little wobbly, I head to my closet and take out the best dress I own. A cute little number I bought last year after Igot my piercing. It might be overkill for a library meetup, but it makes me feel confident—like I can actually pull this off—and I need that energy right now.
I pair it with sneakers since my only heels are work pumps, and really, driving a scooter in those would be impractical as hell. After curling my bangs just right, I sweep my hair into a bun. No point styling it fully now; the wind will ruin it on the ride, so I’ll let it down when I get there.
I dab on some perfume, and with my pounding heart, I set off.
Thankfully, I get to the library before him. And because it’s still early on a weekday, the place is nearly empty, aside from a few high schoolers hanging around on the far side.
I find the best spot by the window overlooking the parking lot and settle in to wait. I’m still taking my hair down from its bun when the fancy Maybach pulls up next to the only other vehicle in the lot—my beaten-up scooter.
Romero gets out of the car, straightening the lapels of his jacket, his hair slicked back in that signature side part. God, he looks ridiculously good. I catch myself licking my lips as my eyes trail over him.
His gaze drops to my scooter, and I chuckle at the little frown that appears between his brows. What, never seen an old scooter before, pretty boy?
He looks away and heads into the library. As he walks in, his presence seems to suck all the oxygen from the room, and my heart starts pounding furiously as he scans the space, searching for me.
He came. He actually came.
