The Enforcer (Untamed Hearts Book 3)(56)

Actually, she was a beautiful woman.

Exceptionally beautiful.

Like Tino’s ma had been exceptionally beautiful.

Frankie didn’t half-ass his women.

“Valentino,” she said in a crisp way that reminded him of the blond * back at the school.

Which made sense, considering she was Dominic Brambino’s aunt.

Thank God Tino colored in the f*cking list.

“Yeah,” he answered when she arched an eyebrow at him like she expected an answer.

He wasn’t real sure what he was supposed to do, but all the fine hairs on his arms stood on end in fear the same way they did when he got near his father, so he just sat there looking at her.

“It’s a stupid name,” she said in annoyance, as if he was insulting her by making her say it. “Almost as bad as Casanova.”

“Lucky I’m not Casanova, then, huh?”

He wanted to bite off his tongue after he said it, especially when she stiffened and narrowed light eyes at him. He definitely needed to shut up, because he was inclined to say a lot of dumb shit, and Nova told him a thousand times if he got in trouble, not to say anything.

To just keep his mouth shut and wait for him to get there.

Nova had been talking about school, social workers, cops, things like that, but Tino assumed Mary Moretti fell into the same category.

“Thank God you don’t look like them. I don’t think I could stomach that. Looking at Frankie is bad enough.” She spit out the word them like it was the most repulsive thing she could think of as she walked into the apartment and glanced around in disgust. “You haven’t cleaned this place up yet?”

Tino just stared at her, because he’d been sort of busy almost dying.

“No,” he finally said, hoping to God the sarcasm didn’t sound in his voice. “Not yet.”

“If we’re letting you stay here, the least you could do is clean it.” She sat down on the couch next to him and looked down to Tino’s place on the floor where he was working on his list in front of the coffee table. “Your mother probably didn’t teach you how to clean.”

Tino turned around and looked at his paper with sightless eyes, because he didn’t need Nova’s brain to figure out they had just stepped into very dangerous territory.

“Was your mother filthy?” she pressed when he didn’t respond.

“My mother was sick,” Tino whispered, because he got the impression she was going to get meaner if he didn’t answer. “She was sick for a long time.”

“I should feel better that God punished her.” She said it like this was something she thought about a lot. “But I don’t feel better. I don’t feel better at all. Now I’m stuck looking at your brother every time he walks into my house. It’s insulting.”

Nova really needed to stop walking into this bitch’s house to help their father with all his financial shit. Why couldn’t they meet at strip clubs or restaurants like the mafia guys in the movies?

She leaned forward and grabbed Tino’s face, sharp nails digging into his cheek, and he jerked away on instinct. He could smell the wine on her, and he didn’t want to piss her off, but he couldn’t help it.

He was in full-on silent, wait-for-Nova mode, but something about the way she grabbed him made every self-defense mechanism he had fire off at once, and he was at a loss as to what to do about it.

This woman was tiny.

It was screwing up all the wires in his brain, because getting away from her was easy, but his father had f*cked him up. It made Tino feel like trying to run ended with him in a basement.

She leaned forward again and this time touched him softer, forcing his face to her. “I just want to look at you.”

Tino let her, even though his stomach was churning, because he did not want to end up in that basement again. He closed his eyes when she ran a thumb over his lips and asked, “You don’t look like them. Who do you look like?”

Tino really wished he knew more of his family. That he could just look at this woman and say he looked like some second uncle, but he didn’t know his mother’s family very well. They’d disowned her when she had Romeo as a teenager. She had kept in touch with her brother somewhat before he died, and Romeo was friends with their cousin Angelo, but that was about it. Their little family had been alone in Harlem, and they’d been fine with it.

“You look like her, don’t you?” she pressed when Tino didn’t answer. “You look like the whore who gave birth to you? The whore who f*cked my husband?”

Tino closed his eyes again and just prayed for this woman to go away.

To leave him alone with his no cable and his lists and his cereal bars.

“I want you to answer me, Valentino,” she snapped at him. “Right now.”

“Yes,” he said, even if he didn’t want to. For all he knew, it was a f*cking test, and she already knew the answer. “I look like my mother.”

“Well, you’re very attractive,” she decided as she released his face and sat back against the couch. “No one ever accused Frankie of having bad taste. You’re much better looking than your brother. If he was all I had to work with, we’d be in trouble.”

Tino’s stomach was churning worse than ever.

He still had that crazy feeling to just run far away, but he sat there instead.