~ Two weeks later ~
"Ugh, Zio, he's driving me nuts! He's a sarcastic dick and then he does something sweet and then it's like he snaps back and he's an even bigger dick afterwards. It's obnoxious!"
I threw my hands up and let them fall, grabbing a slice of pizza and attempting to devour my troubles along with it. The cemetery was quiet, silent even, as it always seemed to be. Cars passed by in the distance, people going on with their daily lives when I felt stuck in my own.
I sat in solemn tranquility next to my uncle's grave, a calm and peace washing over me for the first time in the months since his death. When I was finished eating, my eyes focused on the headstone in front of me.
Mario Aloisio. A warrior.
"I'm almost done with them, Zio. Almost. And then he'll pay for what he did to you. He'll pay."
A bright reflection suddenly caught my eye under the shine of the sun above, but I tried to keep my attention on my uncle.
"I miss you. I-" another blinding gleam. I squinted against it, shielding my eyes. Getting irritated. I stood, patting my uncle's headstone and leaving his pizza slice on the plate at the base. "Buon compleanno, Zio." (Happy birthday, Uncle.)
I made my way slowly to the culprit that caused the reflection. A ruined pack of Oreos sat at the base of a headstone, the cookies gone from nighttime critters. I smiled softly to myself, knowing the person buried was well loved, even in death, but frowned for the family they'd left behind, knowing the pain all too well.
I glanced at the name, wiping a new vine attempting to grow away from it.
Lauren Ellis. Loving wife and daughter.
I'll see you when I see you.
A shiver ran through me, though I couldn't figure out why. Taking it as a sign to leave, I patted the top of her headstone as I had done for my uncle and slowly made my way back to the street.
A funeral procession slowly made its way past me as I walked, stopping just beyond my place on the path. To my surprise, Sasha stepped out of the limo with tears bubbling in her eyes, hugging a crying redhead to her side.
"Sash?"
She froze, letting the other woman go and staring wide-eyed over at me. "Dani?"
"I'm sorry for whoever you lost."
Her eyes turned hard, menacing. "My girlfriend lost her dad. I'm here for support."
I nodded, smiling softly, completely ignoring her volatile tone. "I'm sorry for her loss. Says a lot though that you're here for her."
I turned to keep walking, but Sasha called out again. "I would've been there for you too, you know. It's your fault I'm not. You wouldn't let me in."
I nodded slowly without acknowledging her, knowing it wasn't the place for a fight, but also forced to remember the pain I was in when I lost my uncle. It had never been my intention to hurt her or anyone else, but at least I'd never lied. I had to hold onto that. Her words were those of a broken-hearted woman and not her true self. So I kept walking, making sure to forget her harsh jabs and instead remembering her as the friend she had once been, but knowing that even that friend was meant to be left in my past.
I turned my head for a moment to see her once again hugging the redhead, happy for her in her new relationship, but I couldn't help but feel a snag of jealousy run through me.
Walking to the shop slowly, dragging my feet, I tapped on the half empty pizza box in my hand, wondering how some people could give their heart away so easily, so willingly, when to me, it seemed like the most impossible task.
Tucker walked out the door as I entered the lot, meeting a man in an Armani suit stepping out of a blacked out Lincoln. I couldn't see the man's face, but Tucker's was a mask of pleasantries branded over tense intolerance.
Aww. And here I thought he only looked at me like that. I chuckled softly, shaking my head.
Fiddling with his shop rag, his eyes made their way to me for a moment, only to ignore me once again, his hot and cold attitude irking me more and more the last few weeks.
"Your boss is irritating the ever-living fuck out of me," I stated, striding over to Willow and dropping the pizza to the table. I crossed my arms, tapping my boot against the floor as I stared at the backs of the locked bay doors, all closed for the first time in two weeks.
I stomped over before I could think properly, flipping the lock at the bottom and throwing them open with all my might. There, on the other side of the last door, stood Albert Bancroft. His hands were tucked in his pockets comfortably, a large, gaudy Ulysse Nardin watch fastened on his wrist.
How the fuck do they know each other?
I turned on my heel with a sneer on my face and walked away, feeling Tucker's eyes angrily boring into my back as I did.
"You good, Barbie?" Willow slid out on her creeper from under the car she'd been working on, jumping to her feet and snagging a piece of pizza, grease forgotten on her fingers.
"Fan-fucking-tastic."
I was vaguely aware of a car door shutting in the distance, but my mind was reeling. What the fuck was a man like that doing here? Is he where all of this business came from? Why would Tucker take his business when he's predominantly a motorcycle mechanic? Why did Tucker rubbing his fingers in that damn rag always make me jealous of the rag?
I rolled my eyes at myself. Focus, Dani.
"What the fuck was that?"
Oh no... I poked the bear. I snorted a sarcastic laugh. Well. I'm already in deep shit, might as well poke some more.
I glanced up unbothered at the sound of rage in his voice. "Got kinda stuffy in here with all the overwhelming richness pouring off that guy. Sorry. Had to get a breath of fresh air."
"Why are you such a pain in my ass?"
"I could ask you the same question, Johnny boy."
His eyes narrowed. "Back to that name, are we?"
I shrugged. "If you're going to act like a fucking prick, why would I call you by your real name? I see how you look at me when I do. I'm not blind. So yeah, when you piss me off, I'm going to use a name that I know irritates you instead of the one that makes you look at me like-"
"Like what, Barbie. How do you think I look at you?"
"Like you want to fuck me."
"Willow," he snapped to his employee and she grumbled behind me, clearly upset to miss the show she'd become so entranced and silent watching that I'd forgotten she was there at all.
When she was out of the shop, he turned back to me. "What was it that you called me the other week? Mr. High and mighty?" He took a step towards me, his chest bumping up against mine. "Who's the one reaching for the pedestal now, Barbie?"
I threw his own retort back at him from that day. "Trust me. I'm not imagining what I see in your eyes."
"And what's that exactly?"
"Every time I say your name, you look at me like you want to fuck the mouth that said it, and then bend me over this table behind me and make me scream it over and over again."
He was silent, no rebuttal or sarcastic reply to tell me I was wrong. He simply stood against me, chest heaving with the strength he was using to force whatever words he wanted to say away. His eyes were blazing, glowing bright blue under the heat that was pouring off of him. A soft moan escaped my lips at the feeling of fire I seemed to be dancing around and his dark gaze immediately dropped to my mouth.
He straightened, standing taller and forcing himself a step back. How had I not noticed he'd leaned in so far? My lips were stuck in a loop of striking lightning, realizing his own had just been feathering over them.
Dazed, but unwilling to show him the effect he had on me, I bit my lip to pinch myself in pain and jump out of the arousal overtaking me, but it did nothing.
He turned slowly, yanking the shop rag out of his back pocket to start fiddling with again. My body was instantly cold with loss, wanting his heat surrounding me - needing it.
Don't do it, D. Don't say it.
"That's what I thought. Can't take the truth, can you? Prove me wrong. Come on, Tucker, I dare you."
Oh, fuck me. Why did I never learn to shut up?
I wanted to smack my hand to my forehead, but before I could even finish that thought, my ass was slammed onto the table behind me, the pizza box flung onto the floor, skidding across the shop.
A large hand wrapped in the hair at the nape of my neck, the other planted firmly at the base of my spine, tugging me closer to the towering man above me. Tucker's lips bypassed my own, diving down for my neck instead and biting it, leaving a trail down to my collarbone. He nipped at the sensitive skin there and I yelped, but my hands told the truth as they dug into his biceps, holding him there, my nails leaving a trail of their own down his tanned arms.
His hand disappeared from the back of my neck, appearing again to wrap around my throat and squeeze as he lifted my head to his lips. He kissed me roughly, deeply, like a man drowning and I was the air he needed to breathe. His beard scratched against my chin and I groaned at the contact, loosening my grip on his bicep to snake my hand up to the back of his neck.
I pulled him down harder, deepening the kiss impossibly further. It had been two weeks since I felt his hands on me. Two weeks since his beard had rasped against my sensitive skin. Two weeks since I'd been able to sleep with anyone because his mouth was the only one I craved.
Two weeks too fucking long.
His hand around my throat tightened and he bit my lip, hard, sucking it into his mouth to soothe the pain it caused. I moaned at the act, grinding my core against his hips where they met mine on the table. I felt his own arousal prominent through his pants, teasing me further.
Suddenly, he froze. His hands disappeared from my skin and his mouth from mine. He stepped back and, without another word, strode to his office and slammed the door shut, leaving me alone on the table, cold without him and an aroused mess of my own.
What the fuck just happened?