Chapter 16
His mouth parted slightly as she walked ahead, hips swaying, leash–in–pinky tugging him along like a well–dressed problem.
He followed. He didn’t have a choice.
“Jesus,” Marco muttered under his breath.
Dom groaned. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen and I think I hate it.”
“I need to sit down,” Nico mumbled.
Enzo didn’t look at them.
He just let her lead, lips curving into the ghost of a smirk as he muttered under his breath, “You’re gonna kill me, Gattina (kitten).”
Lola
She could feel their eyes on her back. All of them.
And yeah, fine, that was the goal–but now that she’d executed the full strut, handoff, and waistband tug combo, her adrenaline was starting to crash.
You’re doing great sweetie! Keep up the good work. You’ve got this. Haven’t tripped yet, everything is sounding smooth and thought out ALL THOUGH I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE ANY OF THAT JUST CAME FROM but it’s totally fine. We’re good. It’s fine…
Her fingers still tingled where she’d yanked Enzo forward by his joggers.
Anima gemella. Jesus.
Where the hell had that come from?
He’d followed like gravity couldn’t let him go. And she–She’d felt powerful. But now they were halfway down the stairs, and the sharp smell of sunlight and nerves was starting to replace the heat in her veins.
She hit the last step–And froze.
“Oh no,” she whispered.
There, at the base of the stairwell, stood Baba Yaga.
Sunglasses. Slippers. Holding a tiny plastic watering can and the exact amount of judgment it took to silence four grown men.
She wasn’t looking at the crew behind Lola.
She wasn’t looking at Enzo.
She was looking through her.
Lola straightened instinctively, like a teenager caught sneaking out after curfew. “Morning,” she said, bright. Too bright.
Dottie’s mouth twitched. “Uh huh. Morning. Wanna tell me why the hallway smells like testosterone and broken drywall?”
Lola’s eyes darted toward the busted front door up the stairs. “There was… a disagreement.”
Dottie’s eyes narrowed. Then clocked the large man standing just behind her. Then the even larger man standing behind him. Her voice went flat. “You planning on explaining why you’re walking out of here looking like a hostage in a J.Crew catalog?”
1/2
I’m not a hostage,” Lola lied.
Dottie took a single step forward, and every man behind Lola took a step back. Except Enzo.
Dottie eyed him up and down. “You.”
He nodded, calm. “Si, Signora.” (Yes madam)
“You break my girl’s heart; I start with your kneecaps, and we move on from there.”
Enzo didn’t blink. “Fair trade.”
“Baba,” Lola hissed, flustered. “He’s not–this isn’t–just let us go, okay?”
Baba turned back to her, softer now. “You leaving?”
Lola’s throat tightened. “Yeah.”
“You coming back?”
God I hate to leave this old hag. She’s the greatest person I’ve ever met, is always taking care of me and here I am leaving her all alone.
Dottie didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she stepped forward and cupped Lola’s cheek in one warm, dry hand. “You call me. Got it? No matter what. Even if it’s just to say the code.”
Lola nodded. “Ducks are dancing, Baba.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
Baba smirked. “Or?”
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