C H A P T E R - T W E L V E
Falcone then placed his hands on my shoulders, rotated me so my back was to him, and I felt my wrap rest on my shoulders.
He then turned me around and handed me my clutch.
"Did it really really happen?" I said quietly.
"Yep," Falcone said, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the door.
"My Dad just caught us making out with your hand on my a$$," I explained, wanting to be sure.
Falcone pushed open the door and drew me in, saying, "Yep."
"At the very least, I received my Jimmy Choos before I died." You may now take me to the next railway crossing, and I'll jump in front of a train."
Falcone held my hand tightly as he led me down the stairs of the back terrace and toward the gate to my backyard, all the while giggling.
"I'm not laughing," I said as he raised the lock on the gate, yanked it open, and dragged me through.
"Babe, he knows you're not a virgin since you've been married."
"Uh... sure, but -"
"And he knows what kind of person I am because he is the same kind of guy, so he pretty much knows I'm not going to have a hot piece like his daughter and not kiss her with my hand on her ass, much alone do other things to her."
"You may stop talking now," I said.
"You think he waited till he put his band on her finger to have your stepmom in his bed, sweetie, you're quite mistaken." He beeped the locks on the Camaro, unlocked the door, and ignored me.
He forced me into the car as I covered my ears and shouted, "La la la," over and again.
I could hear him giggling even though I was chanting.
Falcone shut the door, and I sighed, "Time to go on."
Falcone climbed in alongside me, revved up the Camaro, and we accelerated away from the curb.
Nice.
Falcone drove silently, and he did so for a time, so I filled the verbal hole.
"The security system has been completed."
"I know."
"Smoke showed us how to utilize it," I continued.
"Smoke?" then nothing.
”
"This is your Numero Dos."
"What are my Numero Dos?"
I turned to face him. “Yeah. "The Hispanic person who oversaw the job."
Falcone broke out laughing after another moment of stillness.
"What's the joke?" I inquired, between his laughs.
He laughed as he said, "Smoke."
"Uh... yes. Smoke. That was his way of introducing himself."
He stopped laughing but kept smiling as he said, "Babe, he was fuckin' with you." Smoke is not his given name. This is Jorge."
I locked my gaze on him. Then I said, "Is he not known as Smoke?" ”
“Nope.”
"Isn't that his street name or something?"
"No," she says after a quick giggle.
"What made him tell me his name was Smoke?" I inquired.
"Because he's like that, and you'd believe him, and you believed him, he probably thought it was amusing."
My arms were folded over my chest. "You've got another person named Fang. You’re called Falcone. Why would I doubt a name like Smoke? ”
"Fang is a Fang, and Falcone is who I am."
Unfortunately for him, Fang was unmistakably a Fang.
"No," I said, turning my head to face him once more, "you're Yago Cabrera."
"I used to be Yago Cabrera, Gia, but life occurs and that man is still in me, but I'm not that man anymore."
Interesting.
"What does that imply?" I inquired.
"Are you still adding to your list of advantages and disadvantages?" he said.
"Yes," I said.
"When the pros win, Sweet Pea, and doubt turns to certainty, I'll tell you what it means."
I was curious as to what that meant.
I thought that passing on it was my best bet for the time being.
So I returned my gaze to the windscreen and changed the subject. "Do you have a girlfriend?" ”
Something strange and tense entered the automobile, and it came from Falcone when he said, "I have a girl?"
"The girl who brought me my shoes," I stated, terrified to look at him because of the unusual tenseness.
The tension then dissipated, poof! When he responded readily, "Yeah, I have a girl," it was as if it had never been there.
Um…weird!
I moved forward, warily. "What type of girl are you?" ”
"A secretary, receptionist sort of gal," Falcone said confidently.
Interesting.
"How do I address her?”
“Ramona.”
I returned my gaze to him. “Ramona? ”
“Yeah.”
"Is she the mistress of the night?"
"She obviously gets into a nasty mood."
Hmm.
"Does she have a lot of bad moods?" I inquired.
"She works with thirteen males who naturally create high quantities of testosterone and thrive on extreme situations, so she needs to have attitude, and a woman with attitude comes with bad moods, so, sure, she gets bad moods frequently."
I broke it down since there was a lot there.
"You have thirteen men?"”
“Yep.”
"Like, you have thirteen guys?"
"Yeah, thirteen males and a female."
Hmm.
"And these people create a lot of testosterone and thrive in tough situations?" I continued.
“Yep.”
Oh boy.
"What type of severe circumstances?
" I inquired, but wasn't sure whether I wanted to know.
His hand reached out and wrapped around my thigh before saying softly, "Babe, believe me, with my work, ignorance is bliss, right?"
Oh boy. I was correct. I didn't want to find out.
It's time to change topics.
I returned my gaze to the windscreen. "So, poor moods come with bad attitude?" ”
“Definitely.”
"You think I'm a jerk."
“Definitely.”
"Do you mean I have bad moods?"
His hand on my thigh squeezed me as he laughed, "Babe."
Hmm!
"Though, realized today I can relieve Ramona's bad mood by sending her to Nordstrom's to buy a pair of shoes that cost as much as a used vehicle, and I can make you kiss me for the first time by givin' 'em to you," he said.
I turned to face him. "I gave you a kiss."
"No, you returned my kiss.I give you a kiss."
This is actually true.
"Plan on more shoes in the future, Sweet Pea," he said, and my tummy bloated, my heart swelled, and that tingle feeling in my throat returned.
As a result, I said, "This is worrying me out."
He stared at me, then back at the road. “What? ”
"You're being kind. Generous and charming. Generous, open about your life...ish, and lovely. It's terrifying me."
“Why?
" he inquired.
"This isn't us," I said.
“This is the us that you wanted us to be, Gia,” he replied back.
"I'm not sure," I said, lying.
"Bullshit, baby," he yelled at me. "I know you want to pretend I wasn't there last night, but I was at your parents' dinner table."
Oh my god. We were back on track with this.
"I told you I made stuff up," I lied once again. "Melinda has a romantic side. She passed out when she saw Dad because she knew he was the guy of her dreams with just one look. She adores me. She usually wants something for me, therefore I gave it to her."
"Gia, darling, you meant every word you said," he whispered calmly as his fingers left my thigh.
"I did not," I said.
I saw we were parked outside Montgomery's, often known as Mont G's, in lower downtown Manila. Montgomery's had excellent Mexican cuisine. Montgomery's served strange, excellent drinks and guacamole that demonstrated the existence of God. Montgomery's has a beautiful mural behind the bar as well as a sun patio. Montgomery's was fantastic.
As I felt Falcone turn to face me, my gaze was drawn to his.
"Don't," he said quietly.
"What do you mean?" I inquired.
He drew me to him with his palm elevated, fingers wrapping around the back of my neck. "Don't contaminate what you said last night."
Suddenly, I understood how important this was to him, not just a little, a lot, and a lot, but a whole lot, and I didn't know what to do about it, but something about it frightened the crap out of me.
"Falcone -" I murmured, and his hand dropped from my neck to my jaw, but his thumb pressed on my lips.
"Don't," he said again.
"All right," I said softly against his thumb.
He let go of my belt and folded out of the automobile after lowering his hand. Before I could put one of my Jimmy Choo-clad feet on the ground, he was at my door. He grabbed my hand, helped me from the vehicle, held onto it, and then Falcone, I, and my Jimmy Choos entered Mont G's.