I don’t move away, staying perfectly still as she works on cleaning my open wounds before she discards the cotton ball and then pulls out a packet of frozen peas from the freezer.
“You need to ice your face,” she says, throwing the packet at me.
I catch it midair and wince.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think your father cracked some ribs,” I groan, pain tearing through my torso.
“You should have fought back, or at the very least, blocked his punches. What kind of idiot lies there and takes a beating like that?”
“I’m not fighting your father, Jazzy,” I tell her.
“Why? Because he’s Carlo Bianchi?” She raises a brow.
I snort. I know her father and uncles hold a degree of power in this city. They rule the underground. But they don’t hold the same level as The Court, and they all know it. We aren’t spoken about aloud. Most people wouldn’t know about our existence, but it’s been what’s led this entire country for centuries.
Old money. There’s nothing our families won’t do to protect the masses we’ve accumulated. There are no lines we won’t cross to make more either. Well, there wasn’t. I did just veto a business deal that I was not on board with.
“No, because he’s your father and you care about him. Despite what you believe, I never want to see you hurt. You are my best friend.”
“We are not friends.” Jazzy snorts.
“So, you bring all the men you hate to your apartment to patch them up?” I raise a brow at her.
“It was my fault you got your ass kicked. I felt bad for youmomentarily. The moment has passed.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I tell her. “What happened… it’s my fault. I did this to us, not you.”
“Why? If I’m supposed to be your so-called best friend, why not just tell me the truth? I’m a big girl, Jake. I can handle it. Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t feel the same way about me?”
“What?”Is that what she thinks? That I didn’t fucking love her with every fiber of my being? That I don’t still love her more than anything in this world?
Jazzy shrugs. “You know I crushed on you for years. You had to know that. You didn’t have to pity fuck me on prom night.”
“Pity fuckyou?” I shake my head. “I did notpity fuckyou, Jasmine Bianchi. I fucking loved you… Iloveyou,” I quickly correct myself. “Love and want have nothing to do with it. You’re not the only one who harbored a crush.”
“Then why? If you supposedly loved me so much, why did you leave?”
Before I can answer, footsteps echo off the walls. I don’t doubt that her brother’s back. I’ve been here too long already. When two faces fill the entryway, I almost wish it was CJ, instead of two people I really don’t want to fucking deal with. Her uncles.
“Princesa, I heard you moved up here,” Emmanuel Lopez hums.
“Tío E, I didn’t know you were in town.”
I watch as Jazzy wraps her arms around him and kisses his cheek. The asshole holds her close. I get that he’s her uncle, sort of, but I don’t like anyone touching her. Not that I have any claim to her.
“Uncle Louie.” Jazzy moves to the next guy, who is staring at me like he’s trying to make me disappear with his gaze alone.
“Princess, you doing okay?” Louie Giuliani is the leader of the Vegas underground. Scary motherfucker to most people. I’m not most people.
“I’m good. What are you two doing here?”
“Heard your father gave your little friend there a makeover.” Louie points to me. “It’s a huge improvement.”
“Uncle Louie, be nice,” Jazzy says. I almost laugh. Her uncles are anything but nice people.
“Nice? To the boy who broke your heart? Never going to fucking happen, Jazzy,” he grits out between clenched teeth.