by Reilly, Cora
She nodded slowly. “Okay.”
I turned to the saleswoman, who was hovering outside the changing rooms. “She’s going to put it on right away. We still need shoes.”
She hurried off and came back with matching flats in dark green leather. I’d hoped for stilettos but doubted Leona could walk in them anyway. I nodded my approval, and she handed them to Leona. Her eyes met mine, filled with question, before she disappeared behind the curtain once more.
Leona came back out of the changing room, dressed in her new dress and shoes, looking fucking amazing. I let my eyes wander over her slender shoulders, her narrow waist, and lean legs. The dress ended a couple of inches above her knees and dipped low on her back, revealing inch by inch of immaculate skin.
She carried her old clothes. I wanted to tell her to throw them away, but I had a feeling she didn’t have any clothes to spare. Instead, I went over to the cashier and paid for the dress and shoes.
Leona’s eyes grew wide when she saw the sum.
“I can’t believe how much you paid! I could have bought ten dresses at Walmart for that much money,” she whispered as I led her out of the shop.
I pressed my palm against the naked skin between her shoulder blades, relishing in her small shiver and the way goose bumps rose on her skin. The familiar blush spread over her cheeks. Before I opened the door, I leaned down to her, my lips brushing her ear. “It’s worth every penny, trust me.”
She released a small, shaky breath and quickly got into my Mercedes, as if she needed to put some space between us. There was no way I’d let her get away from me.
CHAPTER 8
LEONA
I smoothed my fingers down the soft material of the dress. It was made from silk and cotton, something I’d never worn before. It felt almost too good for me. I never could have afforded this kind of dress, nor would I have ever paid that much money for a piece of clothing. And the shoes. I didn’t know leather this soft existed. For Fabiano, it was nothing.
“Thank you,” I said eventually. We’d been driving in silence for a while. The surroundings that flew past us were becoming shabbier. It wouldn’t be long before we arrived at Roger’s Arena.
Fabiano nodded his head as he drove. I wished I knew what was going on in there, why he was really doing this. My eyes lingered on his strong jaw, the dark blond stubble, the way his mouth was set in a determined line. He always seemed in control. Even during his fight, he never gave up control. He had dominated his opponent with little effort. Was there a time when he ever lost it?
As I watched him drive, I got my first good look at the tattoo on the inside of his right forearm. It was a long knife with an eye on the top of the blade, near the hilt, with words written in intricate letters. It looked like Italian and was too small for me to read.
Fabiano pulled into the parking lot of Roger’s Arena and turned off the engine. He purposely held out his forearm so I could take a closer look. Had I been staring that openly?
“What does it say?” I touched my fingertip to his skin, tracing every single letter and marveling at how soft his skin felt. He was all hard lines and muscle, power and danger, but his skin betrayed that when I touched him, he was only human.
“Temere me, perché sono l’occhio e la spada,” Fabiano said in flawless Italian, from what I could tell. He caressed the words with his tongue, almost as if he was their lover. A shiver raced down my back. I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel if he whispered words of passion into my ear in that same voice. “What...” I cleared my throat, hoping he couldn’t tell how his closeness and voice affected me “...what does it mean?”
“Fear me cause I’m the eye and the blade.”
A lover’s voice delivering such harsh words. “Do all mobsters have this tattoo?” I asked.
He smirked. “Made men or Camorrista, as we like to call ourselves, but yes, members of the Camorra all have the same tattoo. It’s a way to recognize each other.”
“The eye and the blade,” I repeated. “What does it mean? What do you have to do to bear that tattoo?”
He leaned over and for a moment, I was sure he would kiss me—and worse that I would have let him. Instead, he ran a finger down the length of my arm, a dark look in his eyes. “That’s something you don’t want to know,” he murmured.
I nodded. With him being so close, it was hard to concentrate. I needed to get out of this car.
“Go out with me.”
“I have to work,” came my dumb reply.
He smiled a knowing smile. “Not every day. When’s your next day off?”
I hadn’t talked to Roger about that, and with the way my financial situation was, I couldn’t afford to take a day off.
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s say Wednesday.”
That was only two days away. I didn’t come to Vegas for a date. I swore to myself that I’d keep my head down and stay out of trouble. Going on a date with a member of the mob wasn’t exactly doing that.
“I can’t. I ...” I couldn’t come up with an excuse, and Fabiano’s eyes spoke a clear meaning. Any answer other than yes was unacceptable.
“I don’t know if I can get that day off.”
“You will.”
Did the bar belong to the Camorra? Or was Roger too scared to refuse Fabiano’s request?
All my life people had trampled over me. Nothing had ever come easy. I’d had to fight for everything I had, and suddenly here was Fabiano, who got what he wanted and could handle things for me with a few simple words. It shouldn’t have felt good, but I’d always been on my own. My mother hadn’t been in any state to take care of me, and my father was hundreds of miles away and just as incapable. Now there was someone taking care of me, and I liked it, liked handing over some of the burden of always having to fend for myself, having to make every decision. I liked it too much.
Men like Fabiano were used to controlling others. If I let him, he’d take total control of my life, of me: body and soul. I needed to be careful.
I tore my gaze away from his face. A trickle of sweat trailed down my back. The air was too stuffy in his car. I got out, glad for more space between me and Fabiano.
He followed me, of course. More like prowled after me.
“Are you coming in for a drink?” I asked, torn between wanting him to and wanting him to leave.
“Not today, but I’ll have a quick talk with Roger about Wednesday.”
His hand touched my back as he led me inside. The heat of his palm on my skin was way more distracting than it should have been.
The moment we entered the bar, Cheryl’s angry eyes zoomed in on me, then on Fabiano, before she whirled around and headed through the door behind the bar. Most of the tables were still empty. The first fight hadn’t begun yet, but a look at the clock revealed I was almost one hour late. Guilt overcame me. I hated disappointing people who relied on me. Roger was certainly furious.
His reddened face as he stalked into the bar confirmed my worry. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me standing beside Fabiano.
Fabiona stroked my skin lightly with his thumb. I had to resist leaning into his touch. Instead, I gave him a quick smile then rushed off toward the bar. Roger didn’t spare me a glance, but I could tell that he was seething. I watched as Roger walked toward Fabiano and listened to him, eventually nodding, but he didn’t look happy about it.
Cheryl slid up to my side. “New dress?” she asked suggestively.
I flushed, though I had nothing to be embarrassed about. I removed a few of the empty bottles lined up next to the sink and stashed them in the crates below the bar.
“Chick, I know you’re new here, but don’t think he’s buying you stuff because he feels sorry for you. That man isn’t capable of feeling sorry.”
Annoyance rushed through me. She pretended like she knew all about him. How could she say that he had no feelings? Just because he didn’t show them didn’t mean he didn’t have them.
“Cheryl, I know what I’m doing. There�
��s nothing to worry about, trust me.”
She pointed at my bruised wrist. “That’s only the beginning.”
“He didn’t do that.” Cheryl rolled her eyes. Men sitting at a table had tried to catch our attention, so I went over to them. This conversation with Cheryl was leading nowhere.
Fabiano came over to me. The men at the table fell silent as he stopped beside me. He touched my naked back again, and I saw the look he gave the other men. Was he being possessive? He leaned down. “Wednesday, I’ll pick you up at six on your street.” He straightened and stalked off, leaving me with the searing imprint of his touch on my back.
“So, two lagers and three pale ales?” I repeated their order.
They nodded but didn’t say another word.
When I returned home that night, the apartment was dark and quiet. The door to Dad’s bedroom was ajar. He wasn’t there. I really hoped he wasn’t gambling again.
I slipped out of the dress and carefully laid it on one of the moving boxes. Tomorrow I’d wash it so I could wear it again for my date with Fabiano on Wednesday. My stomach tightened with nerves and excitement. When I finally lay down and closed my eyes, I could feel his hand on my back again and smell his musky scent. My hand found its way between my legs, remembering the way he looked half-naked, the lithe way he’d moved during his fight, the strength he oozed so easily. I’d never felt so drawn to someone before. I moved my fingers at a quick pace, imagining it was Fabiano.
After I finished, I felt even more nervous about our date. I never had trouble refusing guys; none were ever remotely interesting enough for me to risk my reputation. But refusing Fabiano ... that would prove to be more difficult.
FABIANO
Remo was lounging on the sofa, watching the latest race on his enormous TV. The races were getting more and more popular by the day. If we could operate the races in all of the states and Canada, we’d be swimming in money. With the Outfit and the Famiglia in the U.S. and the fucking Corsican Union in Canada in our way, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Not to mention the Bratva and the Cartel. Everyone wanted to have a fat piece of the cake.
“What’s going on between you and that new girl at Roger’s?” Remo asked, sending my body into high alert.
My face remained blank as I took a sip from my drink then leaned back on the couch.
Remo seemed focused on the race, but that could easily have been a way to make me lower my guard.
“Nothing’s going on,” I told him offhandedly.
His eyes met mine. “You’re buying her things and you’re taking her out. That’s nothing?”
I let out a dark laugh. “Are you spying on me, Remo? Since when do you care about the girls I’m fucking?”
“I don’t. She seems a strange choice. Not your usual style. And I don’t need to spy on you. You know how it is.”
Oh, I knew. People were always eager to talk shit about me behind my back, hoping they could rat me out to Remo and earn a reward. If they thought he’d be impressed by them acting like a stinking rat, they didn’t know shit about him. Remo would remember their names, but definitely not in a way they’d appreciate.
“She’s a welcome distraction. The other girls ... they’re all the same. They are starting to bore me.”
The women laughed because they had to, smiled their fake smiles. They regarded me like an opportunity. And I never cared. They were good for fucking and sucking.
“The thrill of the chase,” Remo mused.
I smirked. “Perhaps. Let me have some fun. It won’t interfere with my duties.”
Remo nodded, but there was a look in his eyes I didn’t like. “Have fun.” He returned his attention to the bar. “She might be more skilled than she looks. Her mother is a cheap street hooker in Austin.”
What the fuck? I tensed. Her mother was a whore? Was he fucking shitting me? That Remo had done a background check on Leona unsettled me even more. It was never a good thing when something caught Remo’s attention. I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, though I had a feeling Remo had picked up on my shock. He was too damn observant. That was why he was Capo.
“I don’t give a fuck who her mother is.”
Remo’s eyes bored a hole into my fucking skull, never halting his relentless stare. I stood from the sofa. “I’m going to work out for a while.”
I needed to blow off some steam before I went to get Leona. I was on edge. I’d have to spend the next hour kicking the hell out of a heavy bag if I wanted to keep my cool with her.
LEONA
Dad had avoided me since the incident. I heard him return home early in the morning, bump against walls, and smash his door shut in a drunken stupor. He was still hidden away in his room when I left for work.
On Wednesday I had my day off, and he couldn’t avoid me. When he stepped out of his bedroom and shuffled into the kitchen, dressed in only faded gray boxers and a yellowed wife beater, he froze in the doorway after spotting me. He obviously expected me to be at work.
“Did they fire you?” he asked uncertainly. It almost looked like there was guilt on his face. The bruises on my wrist were already faded, so he was probably feeling guilty about the money he had taken from me.
I shook my head as I sipped my coffee. I had hardly eaten anything so far, even though the fridge was stashed with food for once after I’d gone to the grocery store. “No, it’s my day off.”
“On a day of a big fight?” he asked. “One of the Falcone brothers is in the cage tonight.”
Surprise filled me. “I can’t work all the time.”
Dad sat down across from me. Under his eyes were dark circles, and he looked like he could use a long shower.
I waited for him to ask me for more money. He must have been thinking about it. He stared down at his hands then sighed. “I never wanted this kind of life for you. When you were born, I thought everything would change. I thought I could give you a good life.”
“I know,” I said simply. Mom and Dad both had wanted to be good parents, and for a while they had tried.
“Are you going to be home tonight?” he asked. “You could watch the cage fight with me. They’re showing it on the big screen at a bar around the corner from here.”
I wasn’t really in the mood to watch another cage fight, but I was touched that he wanted to spend time with me, even if part of me couldn’t help but be wary. And I hated it, hated that I had to be cautious when my parents showed any interest in me.
“I’m already going out,” I said carefully.
“You are?” Curiosity flashed in his eyes.
I nodded and stood quickly. I placed my cup in the sink, deciding to clean it later when Dad wasn’t breathing down my neck. “I should probably start to get ready.” It was still two hours until Fabiano would pick me up, but I wanted to avoid a confrontation with my father.
I’d be rattled me even more, and I was already on edge because of my date. It seemed less and less like a good idea, but I couldn’t back out now. Perhaps Fabiano would lose interest after tonight. It wasn’t like I had anything remotely interesting to say, and I definitely wasn’t going to talk about my mother. If he knew about her, he’d look at me in a different way.
I dressed in the dark green dress again. I shouldn’t have let Fabiano buy me anything. All my life, I’d had to work hard for what I wanted. Having something gifted to me like that had felt amazing. Now I couldn’t help but think of Fabiano’s intentions. Nothing in life was for free. That was a lesson I learned early.
I checked my reflection in the mirror. It was finally possible to get a good look, after I’d cleaned the thing and the rest of the apartment yesterday. I was never into heavy makeup, even for the date, so I decided to keep it to a minimum. I didn’t want it to look like I was making a huge effort, so I put on some foundation with just a hint of blush and then brushed my eyelashes with mascara. I reached for my only lipstick, a berry tone that complimented my hair color and complexion perfectly. With it almost touching my lips, I pau
sed. What if Fabiano tried to kiss me tonight? Would lipstick get in the way?
I flushed. No kissing. I had no intention of kissing anyone, least of all Fabiano. But a treacherous part of my body tingled with excitement at the idea. Sighing, I lowered the lipstick and tossed it aside.
When six rolled around, I was nearly trembling with nerves. Luckily, Dad had left the apartment ten minutes ago, so I didn’t have to worry about a confrontation between Fabiano and him.
I risked a peek out the window when I heard the sound of a car pulling up. Fabiano was already getting out and a lump formed in my throat at the sight of him. He looked marvelous, not like someone who would date white trash like me. I didn’t kid myself into thinking I was anything else. A dress and nice shoes wouldn’t change that.
Grabbing my backpack, I quickly left the apartment. I didn’t want him to glimpse inside and see how little we had. I closed the door. Fabiano was already waiting at the bottom of the stairs, intense blue eyes scanning my body.
I descended the stairs slowly, my hand on the rail like an anchor. He was dressed in a white button down shirt that hugged his muscular form. His sleeves were rolled up again, revealing strong, tanned forearms and the tattoo of the Camorra. He’d left the upper two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, showing off a hint of his perfect chest. Somehow knowing what was beneath his shirt, how he looked wearing only his fighting gear made this even harder. When I reached the second to last step and was eyelevel with him, a shiver ripped through my body. He looked like he wanted to devour me. I thought of something sophisticated to say, anything that would stop him from giving me that hungry look.
“Hi,” was all I got out, and even that one word sounded hushed.
His mouth twitched, and he slid his hand behind my back, his palm finding the same spot of naked skin where it had rested the last time. My body came alive with a tingling, but I didn’t let it show. I needed to stay in control of this evening, and most of all myself.
He led me toward his car and then we were off. It was hard not to fidget as we drove in silence. He looked perfectly at ease, as usual, long fingers curled loosely around the wheel. The tiny hairs on his hand glistened and I wondered if he was possibly still wet from a shower? Don’t go there, Leona.