Tirone (The Night Skulls MC #2)(22)

I used to think Ty ruined me, and then Laius finished the job for good. But I was the ruin of every single person that had ever loved me. First Mom, who died because of her love for me. If she’d aborted me like my father ordered her, she’d have still been alive and none of the horrors that had happened after would have. Now, it was the two men that had my heart and the people that were ready to sacrifice their lives for them. About to raze them down in the middle was a cold— soon to be blazing—war between two Mafia families, the Lanzas and the Bellomos. Why? Because of me. Because of my unwanted existence that brought nothing but shame, ruin, feuds, destruction and death.

I put the lesson plan I’d been working on all night as a distraction and my resume together in a folder and headed downstairs.

Ty stared at me, taking in my outfit, the unsettling gleam in his eyes a stark contrast against the black and blue bruises.

I looked around. There weren’t many people at the lounge or kitchen that early in the morning, but the few that were there, Laius, Doc and a girl named Lolita, whom I’d learned belonged to him, were looking at me warily, too, making me self-conscious. “What?”

“It’s kind of weird to see you in that outfit with that hair and eyes after I…knew what you really look like,” Ty said. “It’s like you’re two different people. Sometimes, I don’t know whom I’m looking at.”

He wasn’t talking about my appearance, obviously. He’d seen what I looked like before, and I’d always switched looks. In private, with him, I was Jocasta. In public, I was the fake Italian brunette. He must have meant the Jo he knew when I was with him, the virgin, recluse teacher who looked like me now in this outfit, and the new Jo, the biker’s girl with a property tattoo, with her cream blond hair and Irish eyes out in the open where people could see, while his father roughed her out in bed, again where people could see—where he could see.

I cleared my throat and glanced at Laius. “Are you coming with us today?” It was going to be awkward. I had no idea how to behave when the three of us were alone anymore. I’d barely spoken two words with either of them since that fist fight.

He took his time, eyeing me from head to toe. Was it longing or derision? “Good morning to you, too, Miss Meneceo.”

I cleared my throat again. The way he said my name like that had never lost its damping effect on my panties. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“You’re out of pants?”

“Excuse me?”

“When I was your student, I didn’t see your legs until you were saying goodbye.”

“You were a student at a maximum security prison not a high school.”

“Hungry, lonely prisoners aren’t more predatory than hormonal teenage boys, Miss Meneceo,” Ty joined the conversation, handing me a cup of coffee. “Here. I made it myself, exactly as you like it.”

Blinking, I took it from him, unappreciative of the continuous reminder that he knew how I liked my coffee and Laius didn’t. It meant nothing. “Thanks.” I switched my glance toward Laius. “Yes, I’m out of attire appropriate pants. I told you I needed new clothes for the interview. What I’m wearing is the only formal outfit I have at the moment, not that anybody has a say in how I choose to dress.”

He chuckled. “You’re covering those legs, Jo. I don’t give a fuck if you have to wear jeans for an interview because it’s just a fucking formality. You don’t have to dress to impress. You’re getting the job.”

“What?”

“I told you you don’t need an outfit for the stupid interview or that big pretty folder you’ve been preparing like it was your fucking PhD. I’ve taken care of everything. All you have to do is show up and sign. Now go change.”

“The first time I agree with Furore on something,” Ty said. “Did you know this is the outfit you wore the first day at school last year? The first time I saw you.”

I didn’t, and I didn’t remember. How could he? “It’s highly unlikely you remember what I wore a year ago.”

“But I do. Some things are hard to forget.” His eyes swiped over me again, his hunger for me might be subtle for others but bright for me. “Like how a couple of guys in class were commenting on your…figure in that skirt.”

“You look hot in that sexy librarian get-up,” Lolita suddenly chimed in, a big grin on her pink lips.

I just stared at her instead of telling her to butt out because I didn’t want to be a bitch to the club girls. They already hated me after what I did to that…woman. Lolita was probably trying to be friendly, and she must have thought she was giving me a compliment, but she was making things worse.

“Mr. Grant, too,” Ty added, and I heard the menace in his voice when he mentioned the name of the teacher he ruined just for planning on asking me out. “You should definitely listen to your…old man and change.” Of course, that was the only time he’d agree with his father. The only time he’d, even sarcastically, acknowledge the relationship Laius and I had.

Laius didn’t wait for me to move on my own. He linked arms with me and dragged me upstairs to change. And that was the story behind my first interview in jeans. It was what you got when you chose borderline psychos with anger management issues and obsessive jealousy for boyfriends.