Dirty Love (Dirty Girl Duet #2)(7)
“Watch what you say about her.”
Dom reared back in his seat as if shoved by the vehemence in my tone. “What did you say to me?” Rarely had I ever talked back to him, and his shock was clear.
“I said, watch what you say about her. She’s a lady. She deserves your respect.” I expected my low words to yield threats of violence, not a look of approval. But my relief lasted only a moment.
“Glad you understand that she’s out of your league, boy. You’ve got no business letting her know you exist, let alone pretending to be part of her world. You’re the f*cking maintenance man and she’s an heiress.”
He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. Greer was too good for me. If she didn’t have a problem with it, why should I?
“She doesn’t seem to mind.”
Dom slammed his fist on the desk again. “Well, I f*cking mind, and when I tell one of my men to take on a job, I expect him to do that job exactly the way I say. You do not overstep the line, boy. That’s a good way to lose your place and your life.”
So, what did I do? I was being warned off Greer, and yet I wasn’t ready to be done with her. I’d known from the beginning that crossing the line was a bad idea, but she drew me in. She was still drawing me in.
I waited for Dom to demand that I agree to stay away from her, but in his arrogance, he assumed his words were all that were necessary. He was wrong.
“Now, get the hell out of my office and back to work. I don’t need to be dealing with your shit. I’m too f*cking busy for pissant shit.”
I turned to leave the office, but his voice stopped me at the door.
“Cav, hear me now. You f*ck up again and you’re gone. Done. Out. So don’t f*ck up.”
It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last time I was called to the carpet in front of Dom Casso’s wide wooden desk with the globe paperweight. But today, I’m not yanking open the door because he summoned me. No, I’m here demanding answers.
Two men draw their pieces on me when the door swings wide.
“You trying to get shot, kid?”
Dom stands behind his desk, both hands pressed to the leather blotter. The damn paperweight is still there, and I can’t help but wonder how many people have died due to blunt force trauma with a little help from the world.
“I’m here for answers.”
Dom’s gaze narrows on me, his dark eyebrows, much like my own, drawing together.
“Must be something special if it’s making you ballsy enough to come here demanding things from me.”
“Greer Karas. Where is she? And when the hell did you tell Creighton Karas you were his father?”
Dom lowers himself into the chair, leans back, and crosses his arms. His dark eyes, nothing like mine, thank God, never leave my face.
“It’s been f*cking years, and you still don’t know how to leave that girl alone.”
“I don’t take orders from you anymore.”
“And yet you’re here asking for my help.”
Impasse. Because I won’t beg for that help. I have other ways to learn what I need to know, but this should have been the quickest way to get all the answers I’m looking for today.
“When did you spill to Karas? And why?”
“You’re not part of the family anymore, Cav. What makes you think I should share a damn thing with you?”
To hear my father tell me I wasn’t part of the only family I ever had should hurt, and maybe it would if I hadn’t been immune to his barbs since I was a kid.
“She’s my woman. I’m keeping her. So I might not be part of the Casso family, according to you, but I’m going to be part of the Karas family. Just wait.”
“Karas will never let it happen. He’ll do everything he can to keep her from you.”
“He can’t hide her forever.”
“He will when he learns the rest of the truth.”
My entire body stiffens in shock. “He doesn’t know already?”
Dom shakes his head slowly from side to side, one corner of his mouth curving in a way that is more malicious than friendly.
“No, but he can learn the rest of the story anytime I want him to. So think long and hard about whether you want to push me, son.”
He says son to bait me, but Dom doesn’t realize I’m beyond caring about my paternity. I refuse to allow his threats to sway me from tracking down Greer. Either way, it’s clear I’m not getting any help here.
“That’s what I thought,” Dom says, triumph edging his tone. “Now, get your ass out of my city and back to Hollywood where you belong with all those other California nuts. Don’t come back to New York.”
He hasn’t even answered the question I asked about Karas, which makes this visit even more pointless.
“I’ll leave New York when I’m damn good and ready. And I’ll stay out of your way, if you stay out of mine.”
Without waiting for a response, I turn and head for the door, knocking my shoulder into one of his henchmen on the way out.
Next stop, the best friend.
Sunlight streams through the window and I roll over in bed, seeking the warmth of the man beside me. The heat isn’t there.
Is Cav already up? My eyes still closed, I reach out—and feel nothing but the soft bumps of a quilt. Reality invades like a bitch slap to the face, and my eyes snap open.