Pink, page 10
This load, however, was his.
Or rather, for his dress shirts. Because despite getting fitted for suits that Andino’s tailor had explained would need to be dry-cleaned when required, the dress shirts only needed a quick cycle in hot water with stain remover and detergent. Twenty or thirty minutes in the dryer, depending on the number of shirts, on medium heat and he was good to go.
Wrinkle-free.
At least, some shit was simple.
Or so he thought.
“What in the fuck?”
Lev knew something was very wrong with his load of shirts the second he opened the top of the washer. His cursing became more and more severe as he pulled the hot shirts from the washer to inspect. What should have been white was now pink. It didn’t take him very long to figure out why exactly that was, either.
The offending garment that came out in his next handful explained everything. The deep red panties that he recognized instantly. The same ones he’d pulled off Gigi the last night they spent together at his place. He hadn’t realized she left them behind, and when packing up his place, he probably didn’t even notice when he shoved them into a box.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, clenching the panties in his fist in the same manner he had when he practically ripped them off the woman.
Yeah.
Couldn’t forget that.
Or her.
His mind had just been … preoccupied lately with other things. More important things, and he was sure she would understand that if the two of them ever met up again. Not that he figured they would.
Nessa had been helping unpack his boxes the last couple weeks while she babysat—maybe she shoved the panties into the hamper with his shirts thinking something like that shouldn’t be washed with the baby’s clothes. She wouldn’t be wrong considering the tag said to wash with like items but in cold water.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck … fuck!
Sometimes, there was no better word.
And Lev didn’t have time to fix his mistake when he still needed a dry, clean shirt to wear under his black blazer for work. None of his t-shirts would work because God forbid, he take the blazer off and there not be a button-down underneath.
That shit didn’t fly with Andino. It took him very little time working with the man to know the guy was particular. About literally everything.
“Screw it,” Lev ground out, his jaw aching from how hard he’d been clenching his teeth. He shoved the shirts—and hell, even the panties—into the dryer before putting coins in the slot to turn it on. In twenty minutes when he was out of the shower, he would have clean button-downs.
They would just be pink.
Perfect.
• • •
“Cutting it really close, man,” Petey said when he opened the rear door of the Manhattan restaurant for Lev to slip inside. “Boss was asking where the fuck you were—not good.”
Right.
Like Lev needed a reminder.
“Well, here I am. Move.”
If the other enforcer had an issue with Lev’s attitude, he didn’t show it. Then again, Lev realized quite early on in his work with Andino that when it came to the other men he employed … well, they only understood one fucking language at the end of the day.
The promise of violence.
As long as Lev behaved the way he looked—large, intimidating, and not in the damn mood for anybody’s shit—then everyone else acted accordingly. If he had a problem, then he said so. Did somebody want beef? He was down for it.
It couldn’t hurt Andino’s business. That was the main rule to keep in mind on the daily grind as he worked alongside men who had been doing this very thing for years while he’d only agreed to step into it a couple of short weeks ago.
Lev still wouldn’t take anybody’s shit. He couldn’t afford to, but especially not with guys like Petey. They wouldn’t let him forget it if he did. Simple as that.
“What the fuck is up with that?” Petey asked when Lev passed him by in the doorway.
“What?”
“Your shirt, man. It’s … pink.”
Goddammit.
He should have known better than to think no one would mention his bright pink button-down under the black blazer that was his new standard. Most of the guys preferred white or black dress shirts, including Andino although he rarely wore anything but silk. That Lev seriously doubted the man ever had to wash because he had been sent on a dry cleaner’s trip twice since he started working for the Capo.
“Shut up. Don’t say a word.” When Petey opened his mouth, Lev pointed a single finger in the man’s face as one more warning when he said, “Not a single fucking one.”
“But—”
“Fuck off, Petey, or you’ll eat my fucking fist after we’re done here.”
That shut the guy up.
Thankfully.
Lev liked to follow through on his threats, after all. He found that was the best motivator to ensure everybody knew where he stood when he made the next one.
Not surprisingly, Petey didn’t follow Lev into the private dining section of the restaurant where Andino liked to hold his business meetings. Not that Lev knew what was happening—or if it was a business meeting today—because he’d simply been told to show up, and Andino rarely offered any information about his dealings. All that information, Lev learned by keeping silent and listening while he worked.
Nonetheless, Petey headed for the front of the business where he would likely wait for … whatever. Or whoever. It’s what Andino liked for him to do.
Lev, on the other hand, went into where his boss waited. Andino didn’t even bother to glance up at his arrival, more interested in the cute brunette currently pouring what looked to be whiskey into a lowball glass.
“Less ice next time,” Andino told the girl.
“Sure,” she replied with a smile.
She headed out of the section and gave Lev a nod on her way by that he returned in kind. While some of the people he had to work with being a man of Andino’s constantly got on his nerves, the more normal ones weren’t so bad.
“New girl?” he asked Andino when the chick was gone.
“Moved her over from another restaurant—people liked her there, and she didn’t shy away from my attitude. All good things, yeah? She was wasting her time over there when she can make far more in this place, and it’s a better fit. Studying … something. Anyway, she needs the money. I figured what did it hurt?”
Huh.
As much as Andino seemed like an asshole to most—and he was, let’s be real—there was also a side of the man that … was considerate of those around him. He didn’t show it in truly obvious ways, but when someone paid attention to what was beyond the cold, gruff exterior, they could find the softer soul of a man who did have a heart that cared.
Sometimes.
“Is the vehicle I provided for you to use to travel not suitable, or …?” Andino peered up from the open folder on the table to meet Lev’s gaze, unbothered and chilled. “Because you’re very close to being late today and that would have promised you didn’t get another call to work, Lev.”
“The Jeep works just fine. Thank you, again.”
Really.
It was another investment, as Andino called it. The Jeep Wrangler had to set the guy back several tens of thousands of dollars, all of which Lev was expected to repay at some unknown time, and he hadn’t known what to say when the keys were handed over. Andino quickly fixed that by telling him to say thank you and nothing fucking more. Especially not no.
So, he didn’t.
Andino smirked and gave a little shake of his head. “See, you think you’re being smart by avoiding my unspoken question, but I’m not stupid, am I?”
Lev sighed. “No, boss. Just … traffic. Other shit. I’m here—won’t be late ever, you have my word.”
A noise of consideration echoed from across the room but otherwise, Andino offered nothing else. That was until he took another look at Lev.
“Is your shirt … pink?”
Fucking hell.
Lev held in his irritation. “Yep.”
“Why?”
“Laundry error.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Andino said in a chuckle.
“Tell me about it.”
His boss didn’t have the opportunity to say more on the shirt topic because footsteps approached from behind followed by a loud, “Andino! Your uncle always knows how to make a trip to New York worth it when I get to do my business with you.”
Lev didn’t even bother to glance over his shoulder before he stepped aside to let the approaching men pass him by without any issue on his part. Really, he tried not to be a bother at all when Andino did business—simply a presence people understood was always there. Either because they couldn’t look away once they did notice him, or because he was impressionable in size and one tended to notice those things.
Otherwise, he didn’t invite attention or conversation. Not by joining or pretending like he might or even that he wanted to be—people seemed to get the hint. Andino liked that just fine. So did Lev.
“DeLuca,” Andino replied, his tone as kind as Lev had ever heard it when he spoke to another human inside the walls of this restaurant. Or outside of it, for that matter.
Chicago.
DeLuca.
It sounded familiar to Lev as he sized up the guy who greeted Andino in the middle of the room. It wasn’t often he witnessed Andino actually stand and shake someone’s hand because he always seemed to like to let people know they weren’t even worth his time to get up and say hello. Not this man, though.
He stood up for him.
They offered hands at the same time to shake, too.
“And we both know,” Andino said, grinning, “the only reason I entertain your business is that you’re one of the very few people in Chicago that my father gives a fuck about, Theo. How’s the wife?”
“Beautiful.”
“Good to hear it.”
“Speaking of Gio, how is he?” the man asked Andino. “Been a while since I sat down for dinner with him.”
“Sends his regards to his old friend but he’s busy with my mother this weekend, so we won’t be seeing him while you’re here.”
“Shame.” Then, the man named Theo turned a bit on his heels to face Lev standing against the wall. While he hadn’t moved to acknowledge the newcomer or the two men who followed him into the room and took posts at both sides, not interfering with his position at all, the man from Chicago clearly took note of him. “And this is—he’s new, isn’t he?”
“He is,” Andino said.
“You have a name?” Theo asked Lev.
“He has a job to do,” Andino replied before Lev could say anything. “And we have business to discuss, right?”
Theo gave Lev a second look, as though he were giving him the chance to deny Andino and tell him his name. He didn’t. Instead, he stared the man in the eye and shrugged, offering no words at all.
If the man who signed his check said he didn’t have a name to give, then he didn’t have a fucking name. Simple as that.
“Next time, Mr. …” Theo trailed off, giving him another look though his gaze lingered on the pop of color under his blazer. He gave a grin and a light laugh, “Mr. Pink—yeah, that’ll work for now. Next time, though, you’ll have to tell me your name.”
Lev couldn’t help but give a sigh. Mostly because laughter echoed around the room. He even heard Petey’s muffled laughter from outside the space. Some days, these guys could be real pricks. He had to admit, though …
He kind of respected it.
Pretty typical.
Another day at work.
Even if now, typical meant everything had changed.
ELEVEN
After
Five years later …
IF LIFE guaranteed anything, it was that all things changed with time. It was the one thing Lev clung to at the most difficult points when he became a single dad overnight. Before his daughter, life was just another daily task that he had to get through. Figure out how to survive it—to make sure ends would meet, catch the next bus, and sleep a few hours every night. He hadn’t been living much more beyond that.
Well, the sleep thing hadn’t changed much. He still didn’t sleep enough.
Speaking of which …
Despite his eyes being peeled wide, he hadn’t bothered to shut his alarm off, and he didn’t reach over to stop it when it did start beeping loudly.
Why?
“How many days left now, Daddy?”
The alarm wasn’t really for him. His internal clock was a bitch—he woke up at five every morning regardless of the weekday. He blamed it on the fact that it was the only time he could spare a workout between his duties as a parent and his job for Andino Marcello as the man’s closest and most trusted enforcer.
His kid, though?
That alarm was Arely’s way of knowing it was time to start the day. The only way Lev learned to make the days work with his kid was by getting her on an easy schedule that worked for both of them, didn’t overstimulate her with too many demands, and still allowed for a little bit of wiggle room.
That six-thirty AM alarm started the day.
For her, anyway.
“How many? How many, Daddy?”
His angel’s rapid-fire repeat questions followed the patter of her bare feet against the hardwood of their home. A home he’d only been able to buy two years before because he saved every fucking penny he could. Every single one. Whatever money he had to pay back to Andino, he did. He got them on their feet; steady and healthy and great. The cushion in his savings account and the educational fund for his daughter was something he knew wouldn’t be possible if not for the ten-k that Andino dropped into his account at the end of each month.
But it wasn’t enough.
Lev wanted more—needed his kid to have more.
He could have quit years ago; maybe after the first shoot out where a bullet nicked his arm and after stitches at a bribed doctor’s office, he went home to put his daughter to sleep. Or even when he became totally debt-free for the first time in his fucking life.
Except he didn’t.
And it wasn’t all about the money, either.
He’d come to learn that because he treated his boss well, Andino afforded him the same respect. In every aspect.
But when he was at home?
Off the clock?
None of that mattered.
“Well? Huh? How many days?”
Lev pretended to be asleep until he couldn’t anymore because Arely had climbed up on the large king-size bed. He liked to call her a spider because those long arms and legs of hers could grab onto anything or anyone, and she wasn’t getting off. Just like a little spider on its web or crawling up the wall.
He wasn’t the exception to the rule.
A grunt of disapproval burst from Lev, and his eyes popped open when a little knee came far too close to his groin as his daughter jumped from the empty side of the bed to him. It wouldn’t be the first time that particular hell happened when she woke him up, but she was getting better about being careful.
Big blue eyes met his and dark curls fell in a curtain when Arely leaned over him. She blocked out what sunlight there was from the windows. Her toothy smile was more than enough to brighten up the morning and was an image he’d carry with him for the rest of the day.
In fact, it was the thing that got him through the day. More than anyone around him actually knew because that was the thing …
Other than his boss, no one knew Lev had a kid. Out there working for Andino, he became someone else because he had been afforded that luxury. All by accident, really. He didn’t have to be, Lev Arsov, a single father doing what he had to do to make sure his child never wanted for a thing in her lifetime. They didn’t know about her at all … which meant there wasn’t a soul out there that could hurt her because of him.
No, when he left his home … he became someone else entirely.
“You tell me,” he said, grinning.
Arely’s gaze tipped up, and her pink lips pursed in her consideration. “Ah, I forgot.”
His laughter rung out in the bedroom. “Really?”
“Twenty-two?”
“Little more, kid.”
She sighed. “Don’t know, Daddy. How many?”
This little game between them had been ongoing for months now. About three, actually. From the point that Arely learned she was going to start kindergarten in the fall, she started counting down the days to her first day of big girl school. Well, that’s what they were calling it to differentiate between her current education at daycare and what she would start in the fall. It was also how she learned to count to twenty, and then thirty … forty. Day after day, they sat down and counted the days.
She couldn’t wait.
He loved watching her learn.
“Time to count again, I guess,” he told his girl.
She didn’t pout.
Didn’t even complain.
Pushing up from the bed, Lev grabbed his charging phone from the side table and dropped it into his daughter’s waiting hands. In her striped yellow—her favorite color—pajamas, she unlocked the phone using his four-digit key and quickly toggled to the waiting calendar.
“Start here,” he told her. “It’s Monday today—the twenty-first.”
“Okay, Daddy.” Her firm nod punctuated her words before her finger started tapping on the days following the current one on the digital calendar. “One, two, three …”
And so, their day had begun.
Like so many others.
With Arely distracted, Lev took the chance to slip into the walk-in closet attached to the master bedroom of the townhouse. Had someone told him years ago that he’d end up living in a neighborhood in Manhattan with bedroom windows that overlooked the Hudson River, he would have laughed in their face.
