Page 23 of Attraction (Mobsters + Billionaires 3)
We started off with an uneasy truce, but now our alliance is an unbreakable bond as far as I’m concerned. Save for Anthony, I don’t exactly have a lot of people I can talk to about the specifics of my day-to-day life.
“Okay, what gives? You look like the world’s most disgruntled Mafia don,” Joe says, ribbing me. He’s cool and collected on the stair climber while I’m barely keeping up jogging on the treadmill.
“Can you at least pretend this is hard for you?” I ask, wiping the sweat off my brow.
Joe grins and punches up the speed on his machine.
“Bastard.”
“Seriously, Luca. Something’s off with you. What’s going on? Are the Byrne brothers causing more problems for you?”
I’ve not said anything about what’s happening, but it doesn’t surprise me that he knows all the same.
“What else is new?” I respond, increasing the incline on the treadmill. “But that’s not what’s got me in a spin. The Byrne brothers, I get. Matters of the heart, on the other hand…” I shake my head, wishing I could make it make sense.
“Ford?”
I nod. This information about Ford is very, very private, but I need to talk to somebody about it. I know Anthony would have some good words, but something tells me that Joe might have a different perspective. A helpful perspective.
“If it means anything,” he says, interrupting my thoughts. “Ford is definitely into you. He’s hesitating because of your business, but it seems to me he’s become a little less intimidated by that over time.”
“That was my read as well. Actually…I think he likes that I’m not exactly on the up and up.”
Joe laughs, shaking his head. “Of course he likes it.”
“Yeah?”
Sending me alook, Joe answers, “These men of ours have been straitlaced all their lives. Taught to conform, to go after the market, to put on a socially acceptable facade. We’re the bad boy trope, billionaire edition. We might as well smoke cigarettes, wear leather jackets, and ride motorcycles.”
I laugh at the visual. Huh. I wonder how Ford would react to me wearing a leather jacket.
“But Ford is so…proper.”
Joe pops his brows. “Maybe it’s proportionate? The more proper he is, the badder the boy he needs. Here’s the thing—you’re not an asshole, and I would bet my man’s bank account that your sweet Montgomery Clift-looking mafioso style has him all kinds of hot and bothered.”
I consider his words, pulling on my lower lip. “So, Rand likes your—former—mob ties?”
“He’s a CEO with a million responsibilities and can’t be seen with a hair out of place. Gotta be perfect every second of the workday. He comes home, I give a few orders in my Brooklyn accent, and it’s game over. He fucking loves that shit.”
I think of Rand’s reserved demeanor, and I can imagine how giving himself over to a guy with a morally gray background would be a relief. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to relieve Ford of some of his responsibilities…
Joe’s knowing chuckle brings me back to the present.
“Okay, let’s say that’s the dynamic. Some colorful, adorable Sandra Dee-type likes her Danny Zuko in an Italian suit. But there’s a wrinkle.”
Joe gives me an encouraging smile. “I’m happy to listen, brother.”
We switch out to weights—thank God—and he patiently lets me put the words together.
Finally, I let out a sigh, deciding on the simple truth. “He’s a virgin.”
Joe’s eyes widen, clearly mulling over his words as he picks up the weights.
“I wondered if you knew.”
“Wait,youknew?”
He sends me anotherlookand, of course. Rand knows, so Joe knows.
