Turning Point||Book 2

38: Romano.

Another blonde strolled in, handpicked by Bernardo, plucking them like cherries off a tree. Then, a sultry brunette joined the lineup.

Looks like we were in for a night of fair-haired girls after all. I was in the midst of Rossis, I shouldn't have expected anything less.

Seven women in total, making themselves at home in our little corner of the place. Glancing at my watch, I realized the bartender only had two minutes left
to hustle back with my drink and card.

I could get comfortable before he came.

A blonde sidled up, but before she could get too cozy around my corner, Angelo barked a sharp laugh, snapping his fingers at her with an after twirl. "Not his flavor, doll."

I raised an eyebrow, leaning against the red leather with a smirk. "Last time I checked, we never held court to discuss my preferences."

Zito's grip on his phone loosened, his gaze locking with Angelo's, searching for an explanation for why he even knew what I liked when I was barely around them. Meanwhile, Bernardo slid into a chair, snagging two girls for his own amusement. Two more snaked into place beside Zito, their hands already getting too familiar. I still called him a boy, in spite of just the six-year gap between us and the two years separating him from Bernardo. It was that boyish look, a mirror of my own when my old man used to parade whores in front of me.

"He knows what I'm talking about," was all Angelo said, focusing on the girl behind him that poured his drink. His own blonde didn't get comfortable in the booth just yet, she hovered with the brunette behind him with a mix of fear and uncertainty.

He must have made many impressions around here.

"Why not share with the class?" I needled, half expecting him to dance around the truth, even though we both knew why he had an inkling of my tastes. "Come on, Angelo."

"Oh, Romano. Davvero?" He hesitated, but seeing my lack of objection, he relented. "Okay. It's that I've never seen him around blondes—"

"That the best you got?" I hummed, throwing him off balance. "I was married to a blonde woman."

Zito caught the jab and chuckled, but the third brother was too busy getting cozy with his company to jump in.

"A marriage for show and a marriage for love ain't the same thing."

"Ha! Angelo. So we're going from guessing my type to questioning my love for my ex?" I needed a damn drink. This was shaping up to be more entertaining than I bargained for. "I'll let the 'blondes' slip if you can smooth over that mess."

So, after a second, Angelo tried again. "You're not one for beanpoles."

"Hmm. Interesting." I mulled it over. "Kate isn't exactly built like a tank."

He was drowning in his own tangled maze now. I'd been with Kate for close to a decade, so if I had a distaste for beanpoles, I wouldn't have stuck around for so damn long. But he kept on, grasping at straws, spouting more nonsense.

"He's not one for the ladies of the night."

I let out a low chuckle, eyes running down his black tie. "Talking about a guy who's had more run-ins with them than any other kind? Starting to think you don't even know what you're on about."

Angelo rolled his eyes, realizing he'd made a spectacle of himself. As a last-ditch effort, he grabbed his drink. "She's not the English girl. No red hair, sexy eyes, curves to die for." He shrugged. "How about that?"

His gulp echoed through the room, and it acted like a punctuation mark to his words. Deep down, I knew he'd hit the mark dead on. That's exactly what I'd been angling for all along—for him to drag her into this conversation like a damn fool.