23. Claudia

Chapter 23

Claudia

I 'm exhausted from my shift at Cage. Tommy had me dancing all night without a break, even when I asked to do some waitressing. Rodrigo seemed apologetic, but made it clear that the big boss wanted me shaking my ass whether I liked it or not, and I was racked with anxiety from the second I hit the floor to the moment I clocked out.

It felt like Tommy was punishing me.

As I trudge up to my apartment, I slow and come to a stop. There's a shape next to my door, a body wearing a big black jacket slumped to the side. It has to be Rodney on another one of his binges here to ask for money, and if I walk over there he's going to harass me until he gets what he wants.

And after what Serena told me, I'm afraid I might kill him.

More guilt hits me. I've been keeping Rodney afloat all this time thinking he was just an asshole, but still the guy that took in two orphaned kids even though he clearly wasn't up to the task of becoming a father. A part of me always pitied him, even though he was such a bastard.

But that part's long dead now. I despise my uncle with every burning inch of my body, and I feel like I might be sick as I move closer to him.

The body moves. He sits up and looks at me, and I startle and stare.

It's Angelo, not Rodney.

"Hey, baby," he says, grinning a little. "I decided to respect your privacy."

There's dried blood on his face and he looks pale. I run to him, Rodney forgotten, and kneel down at his side. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Had a disagreement with some old friends." He grimaces as he adjusts his position. His left arm is cradled in his lap and his sleeve is sticky with more blood.

"Get inside," I order and unlock my door. He climbs to his feet, waving off my offer of help, and shuffles into the apartment behind me. I lead him right to the bathroom and start the shower. "What happened? Tell me everything."

He gives me the story as he undresses. The shirt comes off first and I'm distracted by his sculpted chest and abs, right up until I see the wounds on his arm and the bruises on his body.

"Angelo, Jesus, you need a doctor," I say, staring at the ripped-open stitched gashes.

But he waves me away. "It's not as bad as it looks. If you have any thread?—"

"No, sorry, I left all my medical-grade thread in my other apartment. What are you thinking? Go to a freaking doctor."

He grins at me and leans his head back against the wall, back arched over the toilet tank. "I'm right where I want to be."

Under other circumstances, that might almost be sweet. Except Angelo got into a fight earlier and murdered a guy, and now he's sitting in my bathroom covered in a stranger's blood and looking like hell.

"You're an idiot," I say, getting down on my knees in front of him.

His eyes light up. "Don't tease me," he says, voice low and gruff.

I try not to smile as I gently prod at the wound on his arm. "I can't fix these, but I have some gauze. That'll keep you from bleeding to death at least until you come to your senses."

"That would be appreciated. Can I clean off this blood first?"

"That's probably a good idea."

He gets to his feet with a grunt and starts to take off his pants. I turn my back, my cheeks turning bright red. He seems to find that amusing, and I refuse to look over my shoulder until I hear the shower curtain open and close.

"I'll toss these in the wash. I doubt the blood will come out but at least it'll be clean."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

I leave the room and jam his stuff into the machines then dig around my closet until I find an old XL sized sweatshirt and the biggest sweatpants I can find. Back in the bathroom, he's still behind the curtain, but I feel like I can already see him totally naked with water dribbling down his incredibly defined body.

"Clean clothes are here," I say and turn to give him some privacy.

"Claudia." He's looking at me, just the outline of his face and one muscular arm visible in the gap between the curtain and the wall. "Stay in here."

I open my mouth to say something defensive and snarky about how he's a grown man and can clean himself, but the look he's giving me makes me shut my mouth. It's not exactly vulnerable, but there's a need in his eye, and I sigh and sit down on the toilet. He nods and goes back to washing.

"Do you do this often?" I ask him.

"Which part? Shower? At least once a month."

"No, asshole, I mean nearly get yourself killed."

"Also at least once a month."

I lean my face into my hands. "This is going to be a problem."

"Which part? Is me showering at your place really that distracting?"

"No, I mean, you showing up whenever you want."

"I don't think that's an issue." He laughs quietly. "God, you have the girliest shit. I'm going to smell like fucking lilac."

"I'm a girl, so yeah, that sounds right." I get to my feet, annoyed. "If you're just going to complain?—"

"Stay," he says, looking at me. And fuck, water's dripping from his gorgeous lips and along his cheekbones, and I sit my ass back down.

"Should you be nervous? About the dead guy?"

"That'll be fine," he says as water splatters on the floor. I picture him washing his hair, his muscular back working as his big hands lather his head. "I got rid of the gun before coming here and there aren't cameras in that alley."

"What about the other guy? The Roc guy?"

"He won't turn me in. The second he did, half the city would want him dead. Don't worry, it'll be fine."

"I'm not even sure why I'm asking. I mean, you're a Bianco. You can probably buy a judge."

He laughs as the water stops. "Tried that once. Didn't work." The curtain pulls back and I catch a glimpse of a toned and gorgeous body, soaking wet, his abs ripped, his thighs massive, his soft cock long and thick?—

And then I'm ducking away. "Oh, shit, warn me next time."

"Don't act like you've never seen a naked man before." I hear him wrap the towel around himself as I get the hell out of there, head ringing with the vision of his sexy naked body, all wet and warm and gorgeous.

While he gets dressed, I make some tea and prepare the medical supplies. He comes out wearing my sweats, which are comically small on him, but at least they're better than nothing—though I'm extremely aware of the outline of his big dick.

"Stop staring," he says with a knowing smirk. "I feel objectified already."

"Sit down, idiot, and let me wrap your arm."

He obeys. I get to work, being as careful as I can. "Can I ask you something?"

"I just admitted to murdering someone to you, so yeah, you can ask me a question. I think there's some trust between us now."

"Why'd you come here? Instead of somewhere else?"

That seems to silence him. Angelo avoids my eye as I finish up with his arm, making sure it's tight, and murmuring about still needing stitches in the morning.

"I wanted to see you," he says after a while.

I stand there looking at him, my hand covering his hand. His fingers lace into mine, and he holds my gaze, his eyes glittering with lust and need, and a shiver runs down my spine as he tightens his grip on my hand. I think of his naked, wet body, of the outline of his big dick, of sleeping with him in the pitch-black darkness of the private room, and I can feel the shape of something strange beginning to form between us. Not a relationship, but not friends either. Not fuck buddies, and not really business associates. Something else, a category I don't have a definition for yet, and it scares me. It freaks me out how much I like having him here, but also how afraid of him I am.

The kettle shrieks. I jump and he's smiling at me like he thinks I'm ridiculous. I pour two cups of Earl Grey and we retreat to my couch where I sit with my feet in his lap, my heels practically right on the shaft of his cock. He rubs my toes absently while we drink.

"What happens now?" I ask, watching his reaction.

"Usually, we'd go back to your room, and I'd fuck you into a gurgling, moaning putty."

I snort and slap his arm. "I meant with that Roc guy."

"Right. Him." He looks away as his lips press into a white line. "I'll find him and I'll kill him."

"That sounds really simple, except you tried it already."

"I didn't know Vito was going to be there."

"Yeah, exactly. He surprised you once already. What makes you think he won't do it again?"

He doesn't seem to like that, but from my perspective, he nearly got his ass killed twice now because he keeps underestimating his former friends.

"Don't worry about it. I have a pretty good idea of where he is right now, and I'll take care of it."

"Sorry, that's not good enough. I am worried about it and I want to make sure you're not going to end up dead."

"It's not your concern, okay? I'll handle Roc. I don't even know why you seem to care so much."

I glare at him and pull my feet away. "I care for the same reason you showed up on my doorstep looking like hell."

He stares back at me, equally annoyed, and slowly puts his tea down. I move away from him, gripping mine with both hands like it's a shield. He ignores it and comes after me, his face hard.

"I'm here because I want you, Claudia," he says and his voice is very quiet with a hint of hunger in the way he licks his lips. "There was a second in that alley when I thought it might go wrong, and you're all I could picture. You, baby, not my family, not my parents, just you."

"I don't know why," I whisper, and that's a lie, an incredibly big lie. I reach the end of the couch and there's nowhere left to run. He reaches out, takes my mug away, and puts it down next to his.

"Yes, you do. We're supposed to be working together. Except I don't think it's work anymore."

"No, I don't think it is either."

His fingers brush my cheek. I know what's coming, and I'm terrified.

It's one thing to fuck him at Cage. That's like a whole different world. When I'm there, I can pretend like I'm someone else, like I'm glamorous and exciting and an interesting person. But here, in my shitty apartment on my second-hand furniture, I'm just Claudia, a nobody, a nothing. A girl with no money from a broken family with an abusive uncle and an addict sister. Here, in this apartment, I can't pretend anymore.

Letting him into my life like this might be a mistake.

But he's so close, and he's so gorgeous, and I want him as much as he seems to want me.

My lips part. He moves closer, inches now.

Then the washer buzzes. I jump and pull back, and he only watches as I jump to my feet.

"I should move that over," I say, trembling with nerves.

He says nothing, and he doesn't have to. We both know what I'm doing as I hurry to the laundry. It's tucked into a narrow closet next to my bedroom, and the doors boom as I yank them open and throw all his wet stuff down into the dryer.

This is stupid. I want to kiss him, but I don't know what it'll mean if I let myself get involved even more than I already am. I hate guys like Angelo, except Angelo isn't like Tommy, and really, I just hate Tommy. But I'm afraid that if I get tangled even further into Angelo's world that I won't be able to escape, much less pull my sister away when the time comes to save her. Could I give this up if it was the only way to get Serena away?

I hit the start button and the dryer rumbles. I turn and yelp when I find Angelo standing right behind me. My hand comes up to my chest as my heart races. "Shit, you're really quiet for such a big guy," I blurt out.

He steps forward, grabs me by the hips, and pins me against the washer/dryer stack. The dryer vibrates against my ass, and when I put my hands on his chest, he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head.

"No more running," he says.

And he buries my mouth with his.