“That’s what I thought.”
How the hell did he make it over to me that fast? Corey slips an arm under my shoulder, taking most of my weight on him, and helps me navigate their house to the guest room. I barely register Mel saying she’ll check on me in a bit through my alcohol soaked brain.
“COME ON, BABY. You know you want it.”
I’m barely able to swallow down the bile rising up the back of my throat as the man in front of me snakes his hand around to grab my ass, pushing his hips into mine. He smells like cheap liquor and cigarettes, and even cheaper perfume. Courtesy of the hooker he was with before I caught up with him. Now, he is in my web, and he isn’t slithering his way out of this one.
The snake had managed to slip his way through a few sticky situations, leaving nothing but hurt and destruction in his wake. Little did he know that his time was about to be up. And I… I was tasked with being his fucking grim reaper.
I want to gag when I feel his puny dick press against my thigh, but I manage to school my features and fight the reflex. Instead, tilting my head to the side, I give him the illusion of me offering more of my throat for him to explore with his mouth. I revel in the feel of the cold, smooth metal sliding down my shirt sleeve until my fingers are wrapping around the handle.
“Give it to me,” I whisper in his ear seconds before the blade pierces his side. I twist, the knife scraping against bone - right between the ribs, nice - then pull it out, watching the snake curl in on himself as he collapses on the cold, hard ground.
After wiping the blood off the blade on his pant leg, I pull out my phone, one of many I use for moments like these, and snap a picture.
Turning the phone off and throwing it in the dumpster, I leave the alleyway in the opposite direction I entered it and loop my way around the block and back to my SUV, the alley in my periphery as I unlock the vehicle. There are no sirens. No crowd gathered. He’ll bleed out alone, in a dark alley hundreds of people pass on a daily basis, but he won’t be discovered until a homeless person decides to take shelter against the dumpster from the elements.
Another life avenged.
Another death cementing my place in hell.
JESSIKA
The fuck?
I immediately save his number in my phone wondering when he got a new number because the one I already had in my contacts is completely different than the one he’s texting me from, and ignore the flip my heart just gave at seeing his name on the screen.
I snort. Obviously, he doesn’t know me very well if he thinks I’m just going to take orders from him of all people. There’s only one person I take orders from, and after this next job, I’ll be truly free.
The three little dots appear, stop, and then disappear before my phone rings.
“Don’t test me, Angel. I have no problems bending you over and slapping that ass of yours.” His growl sounds through the speaker.
I bite back a moan. “Promises. Promises.”
Shit, why does my voice sound all breathy and seductive like? I need to tell him no and end the call.
End the call, Jessika.
“It’s not a promise, Jessika.” Even if he hadn’t said that word, the promise in his voice told me all it needed to. I could run from him, but Alessandro loves the chase, he thrives on it.
As soon as I hang up the phone with Alessandro, I send an SOS text to Mel and then go in search of the emergency stash of beer at the back of my fridge. Despite knowing how fucked up this is - I’m supposed to kill him not go out on a date with him - I find that I’m actually looking forward to seeing him again. I’m looking forward to our back and forth banter, but more than anything… I want to feel his hands on me again.
“What the hell is so important that it warranted an SOS text?” Mel’s voice carries through the apartment before I see her, the front door slamming closed behind her.
I barely contain the giggle that’s threatening its way up because the only thing I see walking around the corner and towards me is a pile of clothes and Mel’s small arms awkwardly wrapped around them. I barely see the top of her head over the monstrosity. I don’t know whether to be amused or impressed that she made it up from the parking garage, through the building, and up the stairs with barely any vision. Oh, and managed to open my front door.
Ignoring her question, I move towards her and help by grabbing a few of the clothes on the top. Enough that her face becomes visible.
“Did you bring it?” I ask, looking through the dresses in my hand before discarding them on the kitchen island and going back through the pile for more.
Mel grunts, situating the rest of the clothes onto one of my arms so that she can reach down to her side and lift her purse that is overflowing with various makeup products.
“Now, are you going to tell me what all this is about?”
I turn my back on her and examine the black dress I just picked up from the pile. It’s short, will probably hit about mid-thigh on me when it’s on, and by the lack of stretch in the material, I’m guessing it’s tight as fuck.
Perfect.
“I have a date with Alessandro,” I throw over my shoulder at Mel and make my way to the bathroom to start the bath.
“You what?” Mel chokes, entering the bathroom behind me.
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, getting undressed.
I have no shame. Mel has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. She’s the one who helped me to and from the bathroom when I had my appendix removed in high school because my family couldn’t be bothered. If it weren’t for her, I would’ve either been lying in my own filth until the stitches had healed enough, or I would’ve ripped them trying to do everything myself. She’s the one who had to help me shower after another surgery when I could barely lift my arms enough to bathe myself. She’s seen it all.
“Plus,” I start, leaning my head back against the tub. “Weren’t you the one who told me I should climb him like a tree at least once?”
“Since when do you listen to me?” she huffs, her hands flying to her hips.
“Since always,” I grin.
“You’re full of shit.” She opens the cabinet, pulling out a clean towel and placing it on the towel rack so that I don’t have to reach very far to grab it once I get out.
Best friends. Got to love them.
“You love me.”
With an “mph” Mel closes the bathroom door behind her, leaving me in all my solitude which has been known to be a bad thing. I shouldn’t be left alone, ever. Being left alone means everything running around in my brain has a chance to take purchase, which means I start obsessing. Like, what if the family doesn’t let me bow out after this next job? What if I’m stuck in their clutches for the rest of my life? If circumstances were different and they allowed me to come into the family business when I was good and ready, then maybe I wouldn’t feel so… betrayed? Stuck?
But they didn’t. They kidnapped me, gave me to someone else who they paid to break me down. And then when that didn’t pan out, they locked me away until I agreed to do their dirty work. To be clear, it’s not the murders that I’m against. No, those sick fucks had it coming. It was the fact that the family thought they owned me. I jumped when they said. I lived where they said. I wasn’t supposed to have friends because they forbid it. Mel being the exception, and the only reason I was allowed to see Mel was because of who her husband was.
Corey Jasvins was the most sought after lawyer for the organized crime families in the city. He also just so happened to be one of four partners at the firm. One of the other partners, Mason James, was the other most sought after lawyer for organized crime, except he belonged solely to Braxton De Luca. Nobody went near Mason who wasn’t a member of The Famiglia. Which made him not only the second most sought after lawyer, but also the most hated lawyer in the city.
My family wasn’t interested in Mason James, though. They wanted Corey in their corner, and if allowing me to cozy up to his wife would help them get him, then they
were all for it. Little did they know that Corey wasn’t interested in signing my family on as clients, he as much as told me that himself the first day we met. I was fine with it. I just wanted to hang onto Mel’s friendship a little longer because as soon as the family found out that Jasvins would turn them down, I could kiss my only friend goodbye.
***
“For the love of God, Jessika, stop fussing.” Mel grabs my arms and pins them to my sides, preventing me from continuing my cycle of pacing, running my hands down the dress, chewing on the corner of my thumb, and repeat.
Why the fuck was I so nervous? He was just a guy. The feeling of déjà vu hits, and I’m instantly reminded of standing outside his apartment door and having this exact same conversation with myself. Alessandro Ferrara is nothing special.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
“I look like an emo kid,” I whine to my best friend.
I don’t. I look hot in the fitted black dress, black pumps, and my dark hair straightened down my back. My makeup is simple with the emphasis on my full lips. But I’m stalling. Alessandro texted a few minutes ago saying that he was on his way and to be ready.
“You do not,” Mel admonishes.
“You’re right.” I turn to the side, eyeing myself in the mirror. My body was toned and tight thanks to the copious amounts of training I was forced to endure starting when I was a teenager, and countless hours I spent in the gym maintaining it. “I look fucking hot,” I tell my best friend, and she snorts.
“Alright, I’m out. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she says, gathering the last of the makeup items and discarded dresses.
“Which is everything…”
Mel sighs, reaching for the door. “Just try to stay out of trouble. I don’t want to have to explain to Corey why he needs to go bail your ass out at two in the morning.”
Did I mention that Mel knows exactly who I am, who my family is, and what we do? It’s part of the reason why I love her. She doesn’t understand the reasoning behind why I do what I do, but she doesn’t judge me. It probably has a lot to do with who her husband is and his client base. Mel’s been good at keeping me focused lately too. She knows that I’m working on getting out, and when shit gets hard and all I want to do is throw in the towel, she reminds me of what I have to lose by staying in the game and everything I have to gain by being free.
Less than two minutes after Mel leaves my apartment there’s a knock on the door. I’m both dreading and looking forward to opening it. I feel like a child whose parents are constantly telling them to not play with their food before they eat it. Except, I already know I’m not going to listen. I’m going to play with Alessandro til my heart’s content, and then I’ll devour him.
JESSIKA
“THIS IS NICE.”
Alessandro moves to pull out my chair for me when the waiter leads us to a table in a secluded area of the upscale Italian restaurant. The interior reminds me of one of the many restaurants I visited during my stay in Milan. Exposed wood beams run the length of the tall ceiling and down the wall. Vases with fresh flowers sit atop a pristine white table cloth on every table. Heavenly smells waft out from the kitchen, and I inhale deeply, fleetingly taken back to Italy and my too brief of a trip.
“They serve the most authentic Italian in the city,” Alessandro states, lowering himself down in the seat directly across from me.
I’m momentarily disappointed that he chose to sit across the table and not next to me. I had plans on slowly seducing him through the night until his control snapped and he either dragged me out to his SUV or fucked me on the table in front of the whole restaurant. I didn’t care.
When our waiter hands us each a menu I realize that Alessandro wasn’t kidding about it being authentic. Even the menu is in Italian, and I have no idea what any of the items are. I breathe a sigh of relief when he smirks over at me like he senses my dilemma and then begins to order for both of us, handing the waiter the menus before turning his grey eyes back on me. Whoever said French was the language of love had no fucking clue what they were talking about. I could listen to Alessandro speak Italian all night long.
“What did you order me?”
He grins, “What us Italians are famous for.”
I quirk an eyebrow, waiting him out. Eventually, he shrugs a shoulder leaning back in the chair, giving me an unobstructed view of his chest muscles as they move under the white dress shirt. “Pasta.”
Our waiter comes back and places a side plate of what looks like olive oil with balsamic vinegar in the middle then places a bread basket filled with focaccia bread in the middle of the table. I watch, curiously, as Alessandro breaks off a piece of the bread and swirls it in the oil vinegar combination before bringing it to his mouth.
“That,” he says after swallowing his bite. “is the perfect ratio. Try it.”
I follow his lead and swirl the specialty bread in the mixture, moaning when the flavors hit my tongue. He’s right. The spices in the bread, the olive oil, and the balsamic vinegar were the perfect ratio to make a mouth-watering appetizer. I need to find out what the dish was called so that I can make it myself at home, even though it looks easy enough to duplicate.
When I look back over at him, I’m surprised to find him watching me so intently. His steal eyes focus on my lips. Lips that slowly tug up into a small grin as my tongue darts out to lick a split drop of balsamic vinegar from my finger.
I don’t miss the way his nose flares and his fist clenches from where it’s resting on the table in front of him. It lends to fueling my motivation to do what I’m about to do next.
Leaning back in my seat, I kick off a heel and bring my foot up to rest against the bulge in his pants. The table cloth covers the table and is long enough that if someone were to look over, they wouldn’t be able to tell what I was doing to him.
“So, Alessandro, do you bring all the ladies here?”
His dick twitches against my foot as I slowly rub it up and down his growing length. Come on, Alessandro, break.
He braces both elbows on the table. His biceps are visibly flexing from his restraint. “I don’t bring anyone here.”
His statement throws me off, and I pause in my ministrations for a split second before shaking it off and refusing to analyze it any further. Alessandro grips my ankle when I apply a little more pressure against his bulge. His grey eyes turn dark with lust and a promise that I could be paying for this later.
He only releases my ankle when the waiter arrives with our food, and I straighten in my seat, forcing both my feet to stay firmly planted on the ground… for now.
“Tell me about yourself,” I hedge, biting back a moan as the incredible rose sauce and perfectly cooked noodles assault my senses.
Alessandro grins. “They make the pasta fresh in house every day.” He spears his fork through a shrimp covered in white sauce and pops it in his mouth chewing and swallowing his bite before answering my question. “Nothing to tell, Angel.”
“Now that I don’t believe. Where’d you grow up? Are you close with your parents? Any siblings?” I know all the answers to these questions, courtesy of my father, but I’m curious to see what his answers are. After all, there are always two sides to every story, and I’m particularly interested in what really happened to his brother. There are no records for his brother after childhood. No hospital records, no school records passed the age of three when he was in daycare. Nothing. It was like Johnny Ferrara existed one day and didn’t the next.
“Italy. No, and I’m an only child.” His response is clipped, leaving no room for discussion. His eyes are cold when they hold mine. He wants me to drop the subject, and I’m torn.
Part of me – the part that has business to take care of – wants to know all his secrets so that I can use it to somehow justify this job. I want him to unknowingly confirm that my father is right in wanting him eliminated. That he’s not on the list just because of his association with Braxton De Luca. But another part of me is telling me
to drop it. That it’s really none of my business, and if Alessandro wants to tell me, he will. The angel and the devil are in a tug of war on my shoulder, but eventually, the angel wins, and I drop it… for now.
“I love Italy. I spent several days in Milano one summer. It wasn’t nearly long enough, but I fell in love with the cobble stone streets, the wine, and the food. Everyone seemed so laid back too.”
Alessandro finishes his dinner, taking his time chewing the last bite before he speaks. “Were you able to visit anywhere else?”
“No.” I take a sip of wine and allow my gaze to wonder around the restaurant again. “I always wanted to go back. Rome. Vienna. Tuscany. I used to want to see Italy in its entirety. Even the places that aren’t usually visited by tourists.”
“Used to?” he asks.
I try to school my features in a neutral expression when I look back over at him, but a small, sad smile breaks loose. “Traveling just isn’t in the cards right now,” I say, hoping he’ll change the subject now.
If I’m lucky, and my father kept his word, then maybe that dream is still possible. Maybe this time next month I’ll be exploring Italy the way I’ve always wanted to. Yeah, and maybe unicorns do exist.
Ugh, enough of this. I agreed to this - whatever this is - for a reason and it was time to make it happen.
I slowly run my foot up Alessandro’s leg until my heel is resisting against what I can only hope is an impressive package, and look up at him from under lowered lids. “Why don’t we get out of here?”
I don’t think I’ve seen anyone ask for and pay a bill at a restaurant as fast as Alessandro did. In less time than it should’ve taken us to get back to my apartment, he’s pulling the SUV into the underground parking lot of my building.
Dark Betrayal (Famiglia Book 2) Page 3