Pink, page 14
He hadn’t, actually.
And it wasn’t something he wanted to consider at that very moment, either. Didn’t he already have enough to handle that weighed down his shoulders?
“I’m not talking about getting out,” Lev said, chuckling. “Never even crossed my mind.”
It wasn’t a lie. Because even if he had his issues, moral or otherwise, with Andino’s business and even his own for the man, at the end of the day it was all pretty simple for Lev. These men took care of him because he took care of them.
“Right, well … back to business, then.” Andino leaned back in his chair, hooking his ankles over the edge of his desk again. This time, Snaps licked at the side of his master’s hand where it sat along the armrest. “I’ll handle things. You, however, keep your head down and your phone on. I’ll call. Or John will. Stay out of trouble and let me work. Got it?”
“Always do, boss.”
“And shave that fucking beard you’ve got going on. I hate when I have to listen to made men bitch about how the boss’s “personal” enforcer,” Andino grumbled, even going as far as to make air quotes, “won’t follow the fucking rules of us Italians.”
Lev tipped his head back, and then took a moment to run his fingers through the beard he’d spent a good couple of months growing out. He kept it neat—trimmed short—by a barber downtown. The only man he trusted to put a blade to his throat. He rather liked the look.
Humming under his breath, Lev shook his head and then said, “Nah.”
“Ah, for fuck’s sake, Pink.”
“I’m not Italian, Andino, I don’t follow those rules,” Lev said, standing from the seat and giving his boss a grin. He was still going to be him even in their world and yeah, he’d shave his face. When he was good and fucking ready to. Not because he was told. “And you knew that when you asked me to be here doing this, right? Wasn’t an issue then; you get to be the big shot boss that tells them all to fuck off when it is now.”
Andino sighed. “The only good part about being the boss.”
“Is it?”
“What?”
“The only good part.”
That made the other man pause but only for a second. For whatever private reason Andino came up with in his head, he smirked when he finally replied, “No, it’s not.”
FOURTEEN
“DADDY?”
Lev did his best to smother the smile at yet another interruption from Arely during their nightly story time. It was the exact reason why what should be a half-hour of reading easily turned into an hour. Sometimes more, depending on which book they picked up. He encouraged the questions, though. He never even suggested she should just keep quiet and let him read to her.
Why would he?
That wasn’t how she learned.
“Yes, dove?”
At his side in the twin bed, that he mostly filled, Arely peered up at him from underneath her pink duvet with yellow flowers. Her favorite color was still bright yellow. The sunniest, happiest of all the colors. He thought it was appropriate seeing as how she was also the brightest ray of sunshine in his entire life.
“Where’s mine?” she asked, her small brow knitting together at the question.
“Your what?”
“My mommy—like the ducky mommy. Where’s mine?”
Lev blinked, the ache that stabbed into his chest all at once coming on without warning and with no mercy. It hurt like a bitch, but he didn’t show it to his daughter. She was still staring up at him, after all, patiently waiting for his answer like she did with all her questions. Unlike him, she didn’t seem to be pained by the missing, important piece in her life.
It was just an unknown to her. Something she needed an answer for. God above … Lev wished it was that simple for him.
“In heaven,” he settled on saying. “Remember when we talked about that at the church fair?”
Not that he wanted to have that conversation last summer when they were only supposed to be enjoying the day provided to neighborhood kids by a Catholic church they sometimes attended. The nun who asked where Arely’s mom was didn’t get the hint to quit asking until Lev outright said the woman was in a grave.
That led to a whole conversation with his kid because she really didn’t understand what dead meant. It was that point when he also realized Arely had never known she was missing something in her life until someone else pointed it out.
“Well, yeah,” Arely said, shaking her head with a small smile starting to form on her sweet face. “I know but … Mackenna has two daddies, right?”
Lev’s brow lifted on its own accord at that statement because even he—forever a statue, unfeeling and unbothered in the worst of circumstances—wasn’t quite sure what to make of that statement from his five-year-old. Where was she going to go with this conversation next? Because he didn’t know how to tell her, but there wouldn’t be two dads in this house—Lev just didn’t swing that way; more power to the people who did.
“She does have two dads,” he replied, “but you won’t.”
“Why?”
Oh, God.
“Are we reading about ducks or are we—”
“If Mackenna can have two daddies,” his daughter interjected, as serious as ever while she rolled over to her stomach in the bed and propped her chin in her palms, “then how come I can’t even have one mommy?”
Kids, man.
They really did say the craziest shit.
“You did have a mom,” Lev said, folding the book closed and setting it on his lap. If they were going to talk about this, then he figured it was better to give Arely his full attention instead of just trying to distract her with another topic altogether. “Her name was Dawn Marks, and no matter where she is right now, she will always be your mother.”
“Like my name, right?”
Lev grinned and palmed the top of his daughter’s curly head with his hand. “Right, just like your name—Arely Dawn Marks.”
“Arsov.”
Yep.
Marks-Arsov, actually. He had it added with the hyphen as soon as he could and didn’t regret it for a single second.
Then, Lev tickled Arely’s cheek with the tips of two fingers. She squealed her giggles, falling into the pink and yellow print of her bed coverings. Until she quieted again and stared up at him with those big blue eyes that matched his own.
She still had questions.
He knew it.
Lev just didn’t know how to answer them. Maybe someday he would. Or shit, maybe someday she could even have what she was missing in the form of a woman in her life who gave her that motherly love and affection she so clearly needed.
Just not today.
Unfortunately.
“I know some people have two daddies or mommies … or some kids even live with their mom and their dad lives somewhere else. Or whatever,” he muttered, rubbing a hand down his newly clean-shaven jaw. Arely complained his beard was scratchy when he gave her kisses after picking her up from daycare, and that was that. He shaved it off while they handled their nightly routine. Andino would be pleased. “And then there’s people like us, you know? No matter what, we’re still a family. Even if ours doesn’t look like somebody else’s.”
Arely’s lips pursed in her thoughts before she sighed and nodded once. “Okay.”
“Really, okay?”
“Yeah, Daddy. More duckies?”
Lev picked up the book again, feeling like he dodged a bullet the whole time. How much longer was he going to be able to dodge it before one finally landed? “Yeah, dove, let’s read more about the duckies.”
• • •
“How’s Martha Mae?”
Nessa shrugged as she placed her messenger bag to the kitchen counter. “Still smiling. She finally agreed to let me move her out of that shitty apartment building.”
Lev nodded and continued drying the pile of dishes he’d finished washing shortly before Nessa arrived. He had a dishwasher to do the job but the many years of working behind a bar taught him that there was something therapeutic about handwashing dishes. Maybe it was the time it gave him to think, who knew?
Whatever it was, he liked it.
“Into your place?” he asked, turning back to the cupboards to place the cup in its spot. “Or somewhere else?”
“My place. She decided that was better than the home social services was suggesting because of her age.”
Lev swore under his breath. “I can already imagine how that flew over for her.”
“Yeah, not well.”
The young woman’s tired laughter told him all he needed to know about her current situation with her ailing, aging grandmother. Martha Mae didn’t want to admit that she could no longer live unassisted … not to mention, the apartment building in Harlem that she managed for the better part of twenty years had recently been sold to the city for some housing project.
It all spelled the same thing.
Martha had to move.
She didn’t want to.
“So …” Nessa drawled out the word slowly, the amusement in her tone clear even though Lev wasn’t facing her to see it. “Are you not going to tell me why you asked me to babysit tonight? I can’t remember the last time you wanted me to look after Arely at night.”
“Three months ago. A Wednesday night.”
“Right … because you had to run across town for something for your boss. But it’s Friday and you’re wearing a button-down and pressed slacks.” The squeak of the stool he used for Arely to eat breakfast at the island in the mornings echoed, giving away the fact that Nessa had leaned up from the chair. “And you’re wearing those loafers you say pinch your toes.”
“I talk a lot under my breath, don’t I?”
“Yes.”
“You should stop listening.”
Nessa snorted. “Unlikely. Are you going on a date? Because when you’re not working, you live in sweats. And you didn’t say you were working tonight.”
“Nosy.”
“And?” She offered that as if it wasn’t a problem. “But is it—a date, I mean?”
Lev’s shoulders tightened when she asked the question a second time, but it was his silence that had Nessa cooing out a loud ohhhhh.
“It is,” she said.
“I’m meeting an old friend,” he said. “It’s not a date.”
“Who?”
“A friend.”
“A nameless friend?”
“Nessa—”
“When was the last time you even went out on a date? All you do is work. And take care of your kid, too. Can’t take that away from you.”
She had a point, but still… “It’s not a date.”
“I think it might be just based on … you right now.”
Lev tossed the drying rag to the counter and pinched the bridge of his nose while he mentally willed away the irritation. “Jesus Christ.”
Turning around so he could tell Nessa to mind her own damn business, Lev ended up just staring at the grinning woman on the other side of the kitchen island. It was the gleam of expectation in her eyes that stopped him from being an asshole.
“Are you nervous?” she asked.
“It’s really not a date.”
She gave him a second look. “Are you sure? You even shaved, Lev.”
Fucking hell.
“We didn’t say it was a date. We’re just meeting up while she’s in town for work.”
None of that was a lie. It took a few days before Gigi sent him a text saying she could finally slip away to meet up without a whole media circus following along, but tonight was the night.
“Ohhhh, it’s a she.”
“What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Nessa grinned and glanced upward as she replied, “I’m just saying.”
“Fuck you.”
“No thanks. You’re … kind of like my older brother. I’m not really into that.”
“Am I?”
“What?”
“Like your older brother?”
Nessa nodded. “I mean, yeah. Who knew what ditch I would have died in if Nan didn’t have you just down the hall to help me when she needed it? And I guess you were the first guy who showed me there were men who would show up, so to speak. You didn’t owe me shit. You weren’t my family. I wasn’t your responsibility, but you just kept showing up.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. She seemed to be okay with his silence.
“You’re a good guy, you know?” Nessa asked, shrugging under her tweed coat with buckles on the shoulders. “That’s all I’m trying to say.”
Was he?
Sometimes, he had to wonder …
“And if it’s not a date,” Nessa said, sliding off the stool with a sly smile, “then why do I smell Creed? Because you only wear that when you want to have a good time.”
His cologne, she meant.
Rare.
Expensive as fuck.
And she wasn’t wrong.
“It’s not a date,” he said, pointing at her retreating back while her laughter echoed in the townhouse. “It’s not.”
But goddammit it … a part of Lev wished it was.
Gigi was still the woman of his wettest dreams, and she had been a feature in all of them for the last five and a half years. That also meant nothing in their current circumstances. A lot had changed.
For both.
• • •
It wasn’t a date. Telling himself that fact when Gigi walked into the quiet bar looking like sex on smooth, long, fishnet-covered legs, however, was easier said than done. Her high-waisted, leather mini skirt fell mid-thigh, and the fishnet tights disappeared into her ankle boots with sharp stiletto heels that clicked on the hardwood floors. What really turned heads—literally everybody in that bar couldn’t help but stare when she came in—was the top she wore.
Lev didn’t know what to call Gigi’s top. Made up of leather panels at the side, and mesh and buckles up the front, it hugged her curves and hid very little of her body. It did the best thing for her tits, though. She almost looked like a Domme that had walked off the set of some erotic film. His cock couldn’t handle it considering he had to adjust his position on the barstool to relieve the pressure growing in his pants—what was a little discomfort, anyway?
Apparently, his brain didn’t know what to do with the sight of Gigi, either. The damn thing decided it didn’t want to work when he tried to stop staring, just like everybody else was doing, but failed miserably. Sometimes, life still liked to have a good laugh at his expense.
Fuck it.
She should be stared at.
The woman was a work of art. Carved from God himself, surely. Sculptors had spent decades attempting to showcase the perfection of female beauty, but Gigi defined it. From the sexuality that she oozed to the softness in her aura. It was in the way she walked, her stride and the sway of her hips graceful and sexy with every step, and in the sweet smile she offered the man who actually turned on his chair as she walked past him to watch her go. She was perfect in every way. At least, that hadn’t changed even if she was way out of his fucking league.
Yeah.
How could he not stare?
“Close your mouth, bro. You’ll catch flies like that.”
Lev glared sideways at the bartender who had offered that comment from behind the bar where he was currently wiping out a wine glass. “Fuck off somewhere, why don’t you?”
The guy—Joey was his name—widened his arms like he was silently saying come on, man, give me a break here. “Do you know who she is? Wait, is she coming to see you—do you know her?”
The second time he turned to the bartender, Lev didn’t even bother to hide the warning in his voice when he muttered, “Get gone. Now.”
“Fine. Fuck. What’s stuck up your ass tonight, Pink?”
Maybe he should have picked a different bar. One that he didn’t frequent, even if the place was basically a hole-in-the-wall inside the city and quiet for the most part.
“Who’s Pink?”
Jesus Christ.
The bartender’s gaze drifted to Lev’s right, widening like his gaping mouth as he tried to form words. All it took was Lev pointing a single finger and muttering, “Whiskey sour, thanks.”
“Right … right, I’ll get right on it.”
“Great.”
Without missing a beat, Lev spun around to step off the stool and greet Gigi by reaching for her with both hands. She replied in kind, her soft fingers curling around his wrists and then dancing up his arms before he pulled her in for a hug. She still had that note of vanilla in her perfume, but now the floral undertones felt more suited to this woman she embodied. And yes, when he had her curves flush against his harder lines, he absolutely knew just how much of a woman she was.
He took a small step back to once again admire the very sight of her while not letting her go, so that he could keep her close. The mesh and buckled top with the leather side panels showcased her plump breasts but was tight enough to keep any accidental flashes from happening. There wasn’t another soul on the earth who could pull that top off, but Gigi looked amazing in it.
“Nobody. Pink is nobody,” he told Gigi, his palm skimming the bare skin of her mid-back where her shirt and skirt didn’t quite meet. God, what he would give to have his hands under her fucking clothes. “That’s not important, you are. You look … shit, you didn’t have to get this done up for me, Gigi.”
“Didn’t I? You like the top? One of a kind.”
“You know, I would have guessed that.”
Her smile widened before she pulled him in for another tight hug. Their laughter melted into the rest of the bar and for a second it really did feel like two friends just catching up. In his ear, she whispered, “And look, no paps.”
Lev laughed and as he began to pull away, he couldn’t help but drop a quick kiss to Gigi’s cheek before he let her go from his hold. Mostly. The urge to keep touching her was a little too much when she was this close and so, he kept one hand lingering on her wrist, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Managed it, did you?” he asked.
