Eternal Adoration [ON PAUSE]

4. Men Talk

ARISTIDE

"Silvio was a liability either way. He's the reason that fucker Jeremy was on our ass," Giorgio tells me after a swing of his drink. "Silvio had posted on his socials. Not only parading his gun but also revealing the street where he met with Carlo."

I tap a finger against the glass of the cup on my desk, my other hand rubbing at my chin. My beard is coming in once again, scratchy and frustrating. But that's not what is really what has me on edge.

No. The reason sits in the next room, her entire world within the pages of an Encyclopedia one of Giorgio's women thought would convince him she was a keeper. The relationship had lasted one more month, and the woman had ended up burning half of his clothes before walking out of his penthouse.

"Silvio was a cousin," is all I can contribute to the conversation. I don't give a shit about Silvio, and neither will anyone else, but my mind is a bit scattered at the moment.

Giorgio watches me for a moment before taking a sip of his whiskey. "Yeah, he was. You sad or something?"

He knows good and well I'm past emotions such as sadness, so his question is about something else. He's asking me, without asking me, if I know what the hell I'm doing.

I clear my throat and set my glass down on the desk. "I'm fine." I lean back on my chair to add truthfulness to my words, but my cousin still looks at me as if he can see the lie written on my forehead.

"She seems to be doing . . . okay," he ventures after a moment of silence, his eyes bouncing around the office.

"Yeah," I respond after another bout of silence, "she is."

She likes tortellini.

Never had them before, despite the bullshit she tried to feed me. And before she claimed to be in love, I could tell she liked them from the way she forgot about everything else, forgot to make jokes and throw her smiles everywhere, and never took her eyes off her plate until she was done.

She's a concentrated eater. Like she thinks that if she doesn't watch her food closely, it'll be snatched from her.

"She likes books?"

"History," I correct him automatically, looking away from his raised brow.

"History, huh? She's cool."

I narrow my eyes at him, not liking the compliment. Whether she's cool or not is not his business.

"She recognizes you?" He takes another sip, watching me over the rim, his dark eyes calculating despite their apparent playfulness. "From the diner?"

Scowling, I open my laptop and look through my documents for the paperwork I've been putting off for a week now. "We have to talk about the deal. My father's been on my case."

"I see, so she doesn't remember you." He grins, the shit is funny to him for whatever reason. "Now that's different. Refreshing, really. People usually remember your ugly ass pretty face."

I ignore him. "We got work to do, Giorgio. Enough with the small talk."

But he also ignores me, leaning forward with a tilt of his lips. "Remember Laura Perenni from school?"

Scrolling down the paperwork, I look at the notes my lawyer provided, trying to read them but not understanding Falino's chicken scratch of handwriting. I tell the man every time to fucking dot his i's and cross his t's when writing to me, but he's yet to comply. Must be the downsides of being a 'self-made' lawyer. Can't fucking take directions for shit.

"Oh, c'mon, cuz." Giorgio sets his glass on the desk. "You gotta remember Laura P. from high school, man. She had huge tits, long blonde hair, and baby-blue eyes. She was probably the most popular girl in our grade."