"No, Elio!" I shouted as he grabbed the showerhead and turned it toward me while I was soaping his hair. He began spraying me with water, and I raised my hands in front of me in a futile attempt to shield myself.
"Elio, wait—" I groaned as he burst into laughter at the sight of me struggling. I rose from the small stool to grab the showerhead, but my foot slipped on the now wet floor. A sharp "shit" escaped me as I clutched the edge of the bathtub with one hand, yet despite my efforts, I still landed on my backside. Elio laughed even harder, letting go of the showerhead as it clattered into the tub before leaning over the edge.
"Syit," he echoed, blinking, and I froze, shaking my head.
"No, no, don't say that. Not 'shit,' Elio, that's not good," I grimaced. Kids were real sponges, it was unbelievable. He stared at me for a moment longer before pointing a finger at me.
"Nana fall," he said, and I couldn't help but smile at his face. The little visor he wore on his forehead, shaped like a half sun was ridiculous. What on earth had Alma been thinking when she bought that thing? At least it did the job; he didn't cry anymore when I had to wash his hair. The first time I had bathed him had been a complete disaster, he had fought me the entire time, scratching and hitting me. I'd had to ask Mrs. Taylor for help, and thank God that woman was an absolute angel.
"Yes, Elio, you made Nana fall," I muttered as I got back up to turn off the water. "And that's not nice!" I added, pointing a finger at him, which only made him laugh. He grabbed my finger with both hands and pulled it toward himself, and I yanked it back at the last second before he could close his teeth on it. That little devil. Every time I scolded him while pointing my finger at him, he tried to bite it, yes, actually bite it.
"Elio!" I scolded, placing my hands on my hips. He blinked up at me with his blue eyes before pouting.
"Nana sowy," he said, tilting his head, and I closed my eyes, tipping my head back. Oh God, I wanted to bite his cheeks. Maybe he got that biting instinct from me?
"It's okay, little man. Come on, we need to rinse you off before you catch a cold," I said, grabbing the showerhead.
An hour later, Elio was clean and in bed while I finished cleaning the bathroom, a real battlefield. I slipped into the kitchen to make myself some tea, a new obsession I had developed lately. I decided to watch a movie before going to bed when my phone suddenly began vibrating on the counter. I grimaced when I saw my boss's name. I really wasn't in the mood for an emergency, it was almost ten.
"Yeah?" I answered, leaning against the counter as the kettle began to boil.
"Sanaa, you're going to New York this weekend, right?" he asked bluntly. I had finally decided to go to the showroom and then the VIP event. I didn't want to waste the last gift Alma had given me, and besides, Elio adored Mrs. Taylor, everything would be fine. Still, I didn't really understand Miguel's question. I had already told him I wouldn't be there this weekend, so he knew that.
"Yeah," I replied anyway, trying to figure out what he wanted.
"Perfect. I need you to go a day earlier. I've got a friend who needs help with a delivery in Bensonhurst, Manhattan," he informed me. I frowned, straightening up. This had to be a joke. He had to be kidding.
"You're joking, right? I stopped working nights with you because I can't take risks anymore with Elio, and now you want me to go to New York to do exactly that?" I asked, incredulous. "Have you lost your mind?!" I heard him sigh. He dared to sigh? I opened my mouth, ready to shut him up, but he cut me off.
"You owe me that much, kid. Without me, you wouldn't even have a job," he growled, and I pressed my lips together. It was the first time he had thrown that in my face. "It's important, Sanaa. If I get on Mario's good side, my business will level up," he added, the desperation in his voice stopping me.
"Can't you send Chris or Stef?" I asked, running a hand through my hair.
"Stef's got his kid's birthday, and Chris is taking his mom to the hospital for her cancer treatment," he replied. I opened my mouth again, but he cut me off. "And don't even think about Fabiano, Sanaa. He'd get his brains blown out before he could unscrew a single bolt."
I groaned, closing my eyes. It was Wednesday. I had planned to leave Saturday before dawn to reach the hotel and head to the showroom. I needed to talk to Mrs. Taylor to see if she could take Elio starting tomorrow evening, otherwise, I couldn't leave early, no matter what Miguel said.
"I'll call you back," I finally said before hanging up with a sigh.
Friday afternoon, I parked my rental car in front of the warehouse Mario had sent me in Bensonhurst. I had stopped by my hotel after landing to shower and change, pulling on a new cap and a mask. I sighed as I unbuckled my seatbelt, the image of Elio still asleep when I had left early that morning flashing through my mind. I felt like I was betraying him by leaving like that, but I had been afraid of seeing him cry as I walked out.
I reopened my conversation with Mrs. Taylor and replayed the video she had sent me two hours earlier. Elio was playing with his stuffed animals in his play area. We had decided that Mrs. Taylor would stay at my apartment while I was gone, so as not to disrupt Elio's routine too much. Watching him play calmly soothed my heart, if only a little. Everything would be fine. More than fine.
I got out of the car, grabbing my backpack from the back seat and adjusting my cap before heading toward the warehouse. I checked the number at the entrance and pushed the door open, slipping inside. A whistle escaped me when I saw the row of cars. No wonder he needed help. There had to be at least ten vehicles of all kinds. I hoped we were at least five, otherwise, I wouldn't be back at the hotel before morning.
My gaze suddenly stopped on a car set slightly apart from the others. A black sports car. A beautiful sports car. I set my bag down and approached it, my eyes tracing its glossy surface before my fingers followed. It was stunning. I was in love.
"You shouldn't touch that," a voice said behind me, but I didn't react. I had heard the person come in earlier, but he had been far enough not to be a threat. Still, I pulled my hand away from the car before turning toward the man who had spoken.
He was young, late twenties maybe, and tall, over six feet, easily. His hair was cut short, military style, and he had a soldier's build: lean but muscular, visible in the arms his white tank top left bare. His brown eyes, contrasting with his fair skin, studied me just as closely as I studied him while he approached, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans.
"Her daddy's the possessive type," he added, tilting his head. "You Sanaa? The one Miguel sent?"
"Yeah. But you're not Mario," I shot back, moving toward a 4x4 to inspect it. I'd start with that one, rear bumper first.
"What makes you say that?" he asked, watching me with a faint smirk and I stopped and looked at him, deliberately letting my gaze travel down his body.
"You don't look like a Mario," I said simply, shrugging. He laughed, crossing his arms, the sound echoing through the vast warehouse.
"And what do I look like?" he asked, tilting his head, that smirk still in place, revealing a dimple on his left cheek. He was good-looking but not my type. I rubbed my chin, letting out a long "hmmm" as if I were thinking, then snapped my fingers.
"You look like an Angelo," I said, biting back a laugh when he froze, frowning. He blinked, and I could practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out how I'd guessed.
"What are you, some kind of psychic?" he asked, leaning closer to study me as I snorted, rolling my eyes.
"Maybe," I said, stepping toward him as I pulled my phone from my back pocket. "Or maybe Mario told me you'd be here to greet me." I showed him the message from his boss mentioning that someone named Angelo would be at the warehouse. He lifted his gaze from my screen to me, and I met it with a smirk and a raised brow.
"You messing with me?" he asked, blinking. I shrugged again, slipping my phone back into my pocket.
"What can I say? Lucky you. Not something I usually do with strangers," I replied. The truth behind my words surprised me for a second. It was true, I wasn't the type to joke around with strangers. Not even with people close to me, actually. The last time I had teased someone had been with Alma.
I was pulled from my thoughts when another laugh echoed behind me. I turned back to Angelo after picking up my backpack, our eyes meeting again as he shook his head.
"You're… interesting," he finally said.
"Uh, thanks?" I replied, a little lost. That was a good thing, right? "So… when's your boss getting here?" I asked, slipping one strap of the bag over my shoulder.
"My boss?" he repeated.
"Yes, Mario. When's he arriving? When do we start? I've got other things to do," I repeated, my gaze drifting back to the cars. I needed to get this done as fast as possible.
"My boss…" he echoed with a snort. He opened his mouth, then stopped, seeming to realize something before speaking again. "He'll be here late. I already started on the sedan in the back—you can get going too. The other four guys shouldn't be long."
So we'd be six. Not bad. If we worked efficiently, maybe we'd be done before two in the morning.
I nodded and asked where I could change. He pointed toward a door with his chin, and I headed in that direction after thanking him, feeling his gaze on my back.