The Dangerous Ones [✔️] (#1 in the Chilvati Series)

THIRTY-FIVE

Virginia was speechless as she looked around the room, anywhere but at Spinelli. Questions raced through her mind when she bent down to the floor to pick up the spoon and wipe up the smear of sauce left behind. Did he start that or did I? Should I have told him to stop? The man had literally come out and said he'd rejected her. It couldn't get more obvious than that. Now he was going to think she was pathetically desperate.

"Do you want to go for a ride, Janine?" she heard him ask, interrupting the self-degradation going on in her head.

Janine's face lit up. "Yeah!"

Virginia found her voice. "Oh, I don't—"

"Just in the driveway," he added. It was pretty clear what his intentions were—get outside and get going.

"Okay." She smiled at her daughter's look of pure joy.

Virginia watched from the porch as Spinelli placed Janine on the bike in front of him and lowered the helmet over dark curls. The thing was way too big, making her look like a bobble head, but she squealed in delight as she jostled it back and forth.

They rode up and down the driveway, Janine giggling all the way. After a few passes, he stopped and hoisted his young passenger in the air to lower her down onto firm ground again. Treated like a royal crown, the helmet was lifted with small hands and given back to him.

"Can you come back tomorrow and give me another ride?" Janine breathed.

Spinelli's eyes snapped to Virginia with a frown. Then he leaned over to place a kiss on a rosy cheek. "Not tomorrow, squirt, but soon, I promise."

Janine smiled and rounded her shoulders with girlish delight before running over to the porch. Virginia swept her up, wrapping her arms around the tiny body, using its warmth to try and ease the emptiness in her gut as she watched him put the helmet on. The bike was started up again. He leaned forward, kicked it into gear, and headed down the driveway. This time there was no lingering look back. Virginia turned and walked into the house.

The next few hours were blessedly filled with the distraction of getting Janine fed, organized for the next day, and into bed. It wasn't until she was back on the porch, sitting in the dark and drinking her evening decaf, when the pain returned as "rejected" reverberated in her head again.

"You're such a loser, Virginia," she muttered in disgust, determined to never lay eyes on him again. Yet every time the rumble of a motorcycle sounded in the far off distance, she held her breath and listened . . . wishing it closer.

) l (

Louis had finished washing the limo and was about to head home for the day. He went into the house to find Mark and let him know. He spotted him hunched over the bar at the back of the living room.

"Hey, boss, I'm leaving," he said as he walked up.

There was no response, except for the hard stare being thrown his way over the rim of a glass. A bottle of Scotch sat open in front of him. By all appearances, the guy had been working at wetting his whistle for a while, something unusual for his boss. He was a man who liked to stay in control.

Deciding to take a stab, Louis pointed at the amber colored drink in his hand. "This have something to do with why you took off out of here earlier?"

The glass was momentarily halted on its way up to meet lips again. "You need to keep me away from Lieutenant Robins." He knocked back another mouthful.

"Right . . . do you mind telling me why?"

"Just do your fucking job."

Antagonize the inquisitor—a classic attempt at deflection. Louis wasn't buying it, though. "I don't believe it."

The hard stare narrowed. "Don't believe what?" Mark barked.

"Of all the women you've . . . known, you fall for your own nemesis." He grinned, knowing he was partly responsible. "I approve."

Mark thumped the glass down, straightened to his full height, stomp-staggered over to his bedroom, and slammed the door behind him.

Louis stayed put for a long moment before stepping forward and lifting the abandoned drink up in the air, twisting it back and forth in his hand. The lights above him showed their true colors as they reflected off the hand-cut edges of the crystal tumbler. Shrugging, he brought it to his mouth and downed the remaining contents in one gulp. "Ahhh, not bad," he murmured with a smile, placing the empty glass back on the bar before turning to head home.

END OF CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

My first heavy scene. I hope I did a good job. Let me know what you think. Please vote if you liked it!

Dedicated to the amazing Jessa Martell for all her great advice about writing here on Wattpad.