That slashed through the drugs flooding Tino’s system, and he rolled over to see Lola Brambino standing there, beautiful as ever in a long blue dress that clung to her in all the right places and brought out her eyes. She had an Armani purse on her arm despite the location, in the same way Nova carried thousands in cash. They were too valuable to be attacked, and they knew it, but all Tino could do was look at her in horror. “What are you doing here? My brother’s here!”
Lola leaned into him, long dark curls falling past her shoulders. Her light eyes were wide and fearful against her tanned skin. She spoke in a low and frantic tone. “I didn’t know. Please don’t tell him. Promise, Tino.”
“What?” He frowned at her, feeling like he’d smoked way more than he actually did, because he didn’t understand what the hell she was trying to tell him. “Don’t tell who—” He stopped when he spied Nova breaking his way through the crowd. Every muscle in Tino’s body contracted when he saw Carlo with him. He’d been checked out this past week since the fight with Brianna, but it all came back in a huge rush, and he whispered, “Oh my God. You’re the Dominican?”
Lola pulled back and gave him an icy stare. “Is that how he described me?”
“You’re not twenty-one!” Tino barked at her, because that was the only thing he could latch on to when every thought in his brain just shattered in a thousand different directions.
“It sounds better than nineteen. He’s only twenty-nine. I’m almost twenty. It’s not a huge age gap.” She shrugged, before her eyes got glassy in a way he didn’t think was possible for her. “Please don’t tell him.”
“You’re screwing my zio! The fuck, Lola!” Tino snapped in a low voice because Nova and Carlo were getting closer. “Did your father put you up to it?”
“No,” she said quickly, giving him a look of pleading as if begging him to understand. “He didn’t. I swear. I just met him, and—”
“Holy shit,” Bobby said in awe and pointed from Tino to Lola. “But I thought you two were still—”
“Yeah!” Tino felt like he was going to have a nervous breakdown. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked Lola in disbelief. “You could have told me last week instead of breaking my fucking brain two seconds before my brother walks up.”
“I didn’t know last week. I didn’t know until right now. He wanted me to meet his nephews, and I realized when he introduced your brother as Casanova. So I went to go look for a restroom and—”
“You didn’t know Carlo’s last name was Moretti?” Tino gave her an unamused look. “You didn’t know he was Cosa Nostra? Carlo could be the fucking poster child for the organization. You’re not stupid. I call bullshit.”
“It never came up. I swear, Tino, he never told me. I thought he was a personal trainer.”
Tino just stared at her, because he knew that was Carlo’s cover. He owned a gym and everything. Which was nice; they all used it, and Carlo did do some personal training on his downtime, but Tino suspected he did that more to get * than to deepen his cover.
Carlo wrapped his arms around Lola from behind. “Did you meet Tino?”
“Yeah, we’ve met,” Tino said drily.
“The Dominican?” Lola turned and arched one dark eyebrow at Carlo. “That’s what I am to you?”
“What?” Carlo gave Tino a look of horror before he pulled Lola closer. “I never said that.”
“He said you were the most beautiful woman in existence,” Nova cut in. “Naturally we asked what you looked like, and he said you were Dominican. That’s it.”
“Yeah, but you don’t really look full Dominican. In fact, I would’ve never thought you were Dominican.” Tino tilted his head on Meilei’s thigh as he studied Lola critically. “I would’ve thought, maybe, I dunno—”
“Irish,” Lola said with a brilliant smile that showed off even white teeth. “My father was Irish.”
“Was?” Tino raised his eyebrows at that. “Is he dead?”
“He’s dead to me.” Lola gave him an icy glare. “Does that bother you?”
“No.” Tino shook his head. “My father’s dead to me too. Maybe that’s something we have in common. We probably have lots in common.”
“Valentino.” Nova held up his hand and gave Lola a pointed look and then said in Italian, “What the fuck? And she doesn’t know he’s Cosa Nostra. So tread lightly.”
Tino laughed, because he knew Lola spoke Italian, considering her father made sure she was well educated. Smart whores were expensive whores. She spoke French too. And Spanish, which could be why Tino never once stopped to wonder what nationality her mother was.
She could’ve been anything.
All she’d ever been to Tino was an Italiana. It was how he saw her, as another Cosa Nostra Lost Child being tormented by the system. The rest hadn’t really registered. For all Tino knew, she was lying about the Dominican thing too.
“I will beat you,” Carlo warned Tino in Italian. “Be polite.” Then he arched an eyebrow at Bobby, with Tino’s feet in his lap, and asked in English, “And what’s going on here?”
Lola smiled at Tino, like she expected him to obey and be polite like Carlo demanded.
“We should have breakfast.” Tino rolled off Meilei and Bobby. He looked to both of them and deliberately ignored Lola. “You wanna come?”
“I’m oddly horrified,” Bobby said with wide eyes. “I definitely want to come.”
“Mei?” Tino asked as he slipped his arms through the straps of his backpack.