I roll my eyes before stepping inside without permission. Benz charges for Chiara, who barely manages to protect her face before my girl slobbers all over her.
“Benzie!” Chiara calls out, a soft laugh leaving her.
Woah. The sound instantly washes through me, settling somewhere deep inside my bones and weakening my knees. My fingers tighten around her doorknob to keep me upright. She’s never laughed in front of me, never. She has smiled, but rarely. This laugh was so soft and innocent, it knocked the breath from my chest in a way that not even a racing incident can do.Fuck no.I shake my head to get rid of the thoughts and feelings.
“What’s with the face? Did the kid fight back today when you tried to steal their candy?” I ask, crossing my arms in front of my chest and leaning against the doorframe. Chiara shoots me an unimpressed look.
“Ah, I see you’ve taken an extra dose of your asshole pills again.” I narrow my eyes at her, mostly to keep myself from smiling at her witty comeback.
“So, what’s wrong with you?” She cocks an eyebrow as she scratches Benz’s belly, confusion slipping across her face.
“Nothing’s wrong with me. Leave it be,” she replies, but I can tell she’s upset. Hell, I can feel it.
I’ve known Starling for two decades. Every little one of her tells, like the way her pouty lips are fully embracing the natural softness of her features, something they never do, lets me know everything I have to. She’s upset. That Tim dude is responsible. I want to help her.Bloody hell.What an unsettling thought.
“Can you get out? Your presence in my room is unnerving,” she says, lying down on her side and hugging Benz to her chest. I almost find this cute.
Fine, it’s cute.
“Not until you tell me what has you in such a horrible mood. It’s worse than normal, which is saying a lot considering you walk around with a face that says you torture people for entertainment,” I say, earning me a tiny smirk from her. Warmth spreads through my chest in response and I almost stumble backward.What the hell?
“Not people, just you,” she fires back, but I remain stern, scowling at her to the best of my ability. Meanwhile, Benz is snoring happily in Starling’s arms.
“I’m just going to keep asking, so you might as well tell me.” Because, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m just as stubborn and determined as her. It’s why I won a championship last year and the reason why I’m so highly valued at Mercedes. My team.
“Leonard, I’m not in the mood, okay? I’ve had a long day, and I’m—” She cuts off, choking on her words.
I see tears sting her eyes, but like the absolute soldier she is, she swallows them down and clears her throat. In all the years I’ve known her, all the dinners, birthday parties, family events, and more, she has never shed a single tear. Never. It’s frightening. Even I cried in front of her once when she smacked the ice cream out of my hand when we were five and nine. Mum had been so upset with Chiara, it had cheered me right up.
But, right now, worry fills my chest, even if I don’t show it on my face. I take a step toward her then another until I’m hovering over her. I poke her arm once, twice, three times until she takes the finger I was using and pulls it into a death grip. She drags it down until I’m forced to lean forward, which is exactly what she wanted. Our faces are barely apart when she decides to tell me off.
“I don’t want to fucking talk about it, asshole. Leave. Me. Alone,” she spits, and my eyes drop to her lips.
Her breath is hot on my skin, and her sweet scent, peaches, fills my nose. My eyes flutter shut for the briefest second, but when she lets go of me, I know she saw. Fuck. I straighten out my back and stare down at her as I respond.
“No.” That makes her groan.
“Why do you even care if I’m in a shitty mood?” Her accent is so thick, if I hadn’t spent most of my life with her, I’d struggle to understand her.
“Because you live with my brother, and I don’t want him to suffer,” I lie. She seems to believe me because she rolls her eyes.
“Don’t you have money to spend unnecessarily or something? Must you bother me?”What?
“Unnecessarily? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Look at the car you drive, where you live, the clothes you wear. Then compare them to mine,” she says, pointing at the sweatshirt on her chest, which is covered in holes. My heart sinks a little for her, but her words fucking bother me. “See, unnecessary,” she says, and I feel my heart racing.
I’m very responsible with my money. Most of it is in an account where I’m saving it for my kids’ futures, in case my parents ever need the money, for Graham when he decides to finally let me help him with his dream, and some for Ellie’s future. Jack and Stu have their own money, they’re responsible when it comes to saving, but I want to be able to give my niece everything she could ever need. After the hell my parents went through when we were kids, I have made sure to be nothing but responsible with everything that goes into my bank account. I have fancy cars, clothes, and such because of sponsorships. I don’t buy any of that shit for myself, which Chiara must know. She saw how much my family struggled, but she went for a low blow. Fine. She’s pissed at whatever happened at her Mamma’s. I can understand that, but I will not tolerate her making wrong assumptions about the way I spend my money. Not after everything.
My fingers wrap around her wrist, dragging her upright until her face is close to mine and I’m able to grab her chin between my fingers. Tight enough to keep her in place but not so tight that it’d cause her pain. Chiara’s breathing hitches as her eyes drop to my lips, and the fact that she’s somewhat attracted to me, on some level, almost distracts me from what I want to say to her.
“Listen, sweetheart, there are a lot of things you get to say to me, but you don’t get to comment on the way I spend my money when you’ve got no idea what I do with it,” I say, my voice softer than I intended.
“What are you going to do about it?” she challenges, and I tilt my head a little, my eyes dropping to her mouth then running back up to hers.
“Something you’re not going to like,” I say and let go of her so abruptly, she falls back into the bed. I ignore the fact that all my blood has shot into a very specific place I never, ever want it to go because of Chiara as I stroll toward her bedroom door. “Benz, heel,” I command, and my grey Pit Bull runs toward me, obeying. “Say goodbye to the little demon. You won’t see her for a while,” I say, and the woman on the bed stands, rushing over to us.
“You wouldn’t,” she snarls, and I give her half an evil smile.
