“Make my past go away,” she finally muttered.
“I can’t do that, but I can get you ice cream.”
“What?” She turned to face him, but he slammed the door closed and hurried around to climb in the driver’s seat. “Did you just say you can get me ice cream?”
“I did, and I can.”
What did ice cream have to do with anything?
True to his world, he took her to a small ice cream shop, and they each ordered cones: hers chocolate cherry and his Superman.
“Really?” she asked as they sat at a picnic table and devoured the sweet treats. “Superman?”
He shrugged and licked at blue, red, and yellow ice cream. “It was what my nanny gave me when I was young and having a bad day. Always seemed to cheer me up.”
“Huh.” She ate her chocolate cherry cone.
After a few moments, he said, “Want some?”
She tried not to smile, but she had no control around this man. Especially when he was being sweet or funny. Which was pretty much all the time.
They swapped cones.
“Thanks,” she said when they were done. “I needed that.”
“Good. Let’s get back so we can hit Maureen up for a bottle of sparkling before she retires for the night.”
They parked behind the inn, as per instructions to all guests, and entered through the patio door. That put them in the dining room, which had easy access to the kitchen, where Maureen was usually stationed. She wasn’t there; in fact, the main level was so quiet Shannon guessed everyone had either retired to their rooms or was out for the evening. Leo discovered several chilled bottles of sparkling in the wine fridge, and he helped himself, scribbling a note on the whiteboard hanging next to the door.
They stepped back into the dining room, heading toward the stairs to Leo’s room to sit on his balcony while they drank their wine.
They entered the parlor, and that was where Shannon’s nightmare began.
Or rather, returned.
Two dark haired men stood in the entry, blocking their path to the stairs. They were both tall and lean. One looked like a younger version of Leo, while the other looked like…
“Davit.”
“Max,” Leo called out, and then turned to give Shannon a puzzled look. “Wait, did you just say Davit? As in, you know my brother’s best friend?”
Oh shit.
This was not how she’d expected her relationship with Leo to end.
Chapter Thirteen
Leo remembered meeting Davit for the first time, what? Four years ago, maybe?
Leo had been at his parents’ house, patiently explaining to his mother how to use the latest streaming service his dad had signed up for.
Max burst through the door, all excited to show off his new friend, who he said was a big shot in the Armenian community. Mom took those words at face value, and for the longest time assumed Davit was involved in some sort of community service.
How wrong she was.
Davit had strolled through his parents’ house—without taking off his shoes, so he tracked gray slush across Mom’s pristine floors—making snide comments about how much nicer his house was than theirs. Yes, wealthy people constantly compared themselves to their peers—except most had the decency to keep their thoughts to themselves.
Leo had disliked him from that moment. And it only got worse when Max started partying with him pretty much constantly and doing little else. He’d been three months from graduating with his bachelor’s degree.
He hadn’t finished.
And, yes, Max was to blame for making poor choices, but Leo strongly believed Davit was also at fault. He knew what he was doing; he got a sick pleasure out of fucking around with people. Especially those closest to him.
Because that’s what the mob did.
And Davit, Leo had learned through his brother, was second-in-command of the local Armenian mob.
Shannon knew him?
He’d guessed that she’d been abused in her past, and he’d even speculated, wondered if she had connections to the mob.
But he’d never imagined how significant that connection was.
Holy hell.
Davit smacked Max’s chest. “You were right. It is my Shannon.”
Leo stared at his brother’s friend, trying to look at him through an uncritical lens, but it was impossible. Too much bad blood, and now this connection to Shannon was really fucking with his mind. Any way he looked at it, Davit was an ugly bastard.
His hair was slicked back from his face with some sort of hair product that made it look shiny. The style wasn’t short and it wasn’t long, and there was a slight wave to it that gave one the impression he was trying to grow it out.
His eyes were dark and too small for his pockmarked face, which was probably from a bad bout of acne when he was younger, although why in the world hadn’t his parents taken him to a dermatologist to fix his issues?
He was tall and lean, like a swimmer, and Leo had no doubt that he was tough as nails. Was probably carrying a weapon too. Maybe more than one.
Leo’s only dealings with the mob were the stories Marco used to tell him in high school—Marco had an uncle who was pretty high up in the local Italian mafia. With each story Marco told, the less interest Leo had in that world. Keeping up with his own, legitimate, life was plenty enough work without worrying about looking over his shoulder for an enemy every five seconds.
Whatever extra money or power that could be added to the family business wasn’t worth it to him, which was what he’d told his father when Davit
