by Bethany-Kris
“I like red lipstick more than this pink garbage,” Emma said absentmindedly.
It didn’t sound like it was meant for him.
Nonetheless, Calisto still heard it.
He thought red would look better, too.
It might make her mouth look even more fuckable. It would leave little red stains around the base of his cock when he fucked her mouth hard enough to reach her throat.
Jesus.
What in the fuck was wrong with him?
Emma grabbed her coat and clutch. “Where did Affonso go?”
Calisto hesitated briefly. Earlier, the girl seemed ready to cut tail and run. Like she was out of her fucking league and knew it all too well.
Now, he was looking at someone entirely different.
He’d done his research.
He knew a bit about her.
Calisto didn’t think Affonso knew nearly enough.
“He picked up a waitress,” Calisto said, settling on the truth. “She’s probably in the back of his Benz right about now.”
Emma sneered into the mirror. “Likely wishing she wasn’t.”
“You’re not angry?”
She glanced over at him. “Why would I be? As long as he’s fucking someone else, then he’s leaving me alone.”
Calisto
“So you’re my appointed babysitter, huh?” Emma asked from the passenger seat.
Calisto didn’t answer right away. He focused on the unfamiliar highway, and the bastard trying to cut in front of him to drive a little faster.
“Don’t you talk at all … Calisto, is it?”
“Cal,” he said, gruffer than he intended. “I mostly go by Cal.”
From the corner of his eye, he watched her purse her lips.
“Cal isn’t as attention drawing as Calisto, I guess.”
“There aren’t a lot of us around, if that’s what you mean.”
Emma smiled. “It was.”
“It’s a surname, mostly. Comes from my grandmother’s side of the family on my mother’s side. She liked the ring of it, and passed it onto me.”
“Huh.”
Her simple response made Calisto pause. Without realizing it, he’d easily blurted out private information about himself and his family that he rarely shared with anyone. Nearly every new person he met questioned him on his name, and he never offered clarification as to how it came about. This girl barely said a thing and he spilled every bit.
“Is your mother artsy? That kind of name makes me think she would be artsy.”
Calisto’s hands tightened around the wheel, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. Emma didn’t miss his automatic reaction.
“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.
“Not intentionally. My mother died last year. But yes, she liked to paint, draw, and make things. Sitting outside for hours in front of an easel was her favorite thing.”
Again with the oversharing, he thought.
“I’m sorry she passed,” Emma said softly.
Calisto did his best to ignore the compassion and sadness in Emma’s tone. The young woman didn’t know him from a goddamn hole in the ground. Her feelings couldn’t be very honest or true, but rather, a useless platitude said to make herself feel better.
Just like everyone else.
“What about your father? Was he artsy, too?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” Calisto said instead of answering.
His father was almost always off-limits for him. That was mostly because the people who could talk to him about his father were men who did nothing to help Richard, and the others were men who had killed him.
“Sorry for being curious,” Emma said, looking away from him. “I was just trying to learn a bit about you, Cal, seeing as how you’ll be spending the next month making sure I wipe the right way.”
Her crude statement took him off guard. He couldn’t remember a time when a well-dressed, beautiful, and by all appearances, intelligent woman had spoken so crassly in his presence. The women he had heard speak like that were of neither class nor status.
Calisto barked out a laugh, unable to hold it back. His one laugh led to another, and then another until his hands had loosened from their tight, angry grip and his shoulders were shaking. The stress at the idea of having to discuss his father drifted away almost instantly, and shit …
How long had it been since he laughed?
Calisto didn’t have an answer for that.
Sobering quickly, he sat a little stiffer in the driver’s seat as he came up behind an eighteen-wheeler going ten over the limit and being what Calisto liked to call bait. He liked speed, loved a fast-moving car and having all the control of it under his hands.
“Slow down,” Emma said.
“Why?” Calisto said. “I can fucking drive, thank you.”
“Because police are thick around here, and hand out speeding tickets like Tic Tacs.”
Calisto nodded at the eighteen-wheeler in front of them. “Bait, ragazza.”
“What?”
“Bait. They’ll catch his speed on radar, not mine. By the time they flick their lights, I’m either going past him or slowing down. Chill out.”
She didn’t look entirely convinced. “Do you always drive this fast?”
“Mostly.”
“Why?”
“Speed is a form of freedom, maybe.”
Emma snorted. “Okay, then.”
“You asked, Emmy. I answered. Truthfully, for that matter. I like the way a fast car feels under my hands and feet. That kind of power is rarely controllable, but when I hold the wheel, and press the pedal down, I have all the say.”
“Until the roof of your car meets the pavement.”
Calisto chuckled. “Well, that’s the thing, right? You don’t know if that will happen. You just keep pushing the limit, thinking you’re in control, and walking on thin lines. Like I said, freedom—it’s a thrill like anything else. Like sex, even. Fucking hard, fucking fast, and being insane about it in a way that could get you killed. Makes the relief of it even more intense. Nobody says it has to be worth it, Emmy, it just has to feel really goddamn good.”
Emma bit down on her bottom lip. Calisto barely noticed, but ignored it all the same. He didn’t need that image in his fucking mind, too. The ones he already had were inappropriate enough without adding to them.
He pushed down on the pedal, making the car lurch forward.
Emma sucked in a quiet breath. “You can’t get your thrills elsewhere without playing Russian Roulette on the highway?”
“Sure I can. And quite regularly, I do.”
Emma eyed him from the side. “Like how?”
She probably didn’t want to know.
“Ways,” he answered vaguely.
“I don’t know what that’s like.”
Calisto drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You sure about that?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I think you know more about chasing thrills than you let on. Two years ago, you skipped out of Vegas right under your father’s and uncle’s eye and jumped on a flight to Germany. Maximo sent his son and three enforcers to bring you back. You were expelled from two private schools for fighting before you ended up at your final boarding school where you graduated. You’ve been pictured in the socialite magazines coming out of clubs at all hours of the night when you’re not even legal to be inside one of those joints. I would say you know something about looking for fun and trouble in whatever way you can find it. That, Emmy, is a thrill.”
Emma’s mouth popped open. “You … you did a search on me?”
Calisto made a dismissive noise under his breath. “I was curious. Affonso was dead set on this marriage plan of his, and as his consigliere, I wanted to know more. I’m not judging you. I’m simply stating facts I know about you.”
“Does he know?”
“Probably. It doesn’t matter to him what you did here. What matters to him is what he
can make you do in New York. Big difference, believe me.”
“Oh, my God,” she mumbled.
The look on her face was horror churned with embarrassment.
Calisto found it mildly amusing. “Got nothing to say now, Emmy?”
“Stop it with that name. You don’t know me, Calisto. Don’t use it.”
“You prefer it, don’t you?”
“So?”
“So,” he drawled, giving her as much attitude as she showed him, “… maybe when you’re in New York, Emmy Sorrento won’t exist anymore, dolcezza. It’ll be Emma Donati all the way. Wouldn’t you like for at least one person to remind you of who you are beneath Affonso Donati’s name?”
Emma blinked back at him, hurt settling over her pretty features. “Why do you care?”
“Honestly, I don’t. But I also don’t like Affonso, and if calling you Emmy pisses him off and makes you happy at the same time, I don’t see the harm. I look it at like killing two birds with one stone.”
“He’s your uncle, but you don’t like him.”
“Do you like your zio?” Calisto asked.
Emma stilled in the seat before saying, “Point taken.”
“I thought so.”
“You’re awfully arrogant.”
Calisto smirked, kept his eyes on the road, and his hands on the wheel. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
Calisto took in the penthouse suite apartment with wall-to-wall windows overlooking the busy Vegas Strip. The major casino had one hell of a view from up this high.
“I wasn’t aware that the casinos rented out their penthouses as apartments,” Calisto said.
He’d heard the quiet clack of Emma’s heels hitting against marble floors as she walked up behind him. He didn’t turn to face her, but instead, continued his surveying of the view.
“You know Maximo owns this, don’t you?” she asked.
“This casino specifically?”
“Yes, but he’s got major stakes in a few others. The penthouses can be rented, like any other penthouse apartment. You have to pay a little more for it.”
“But everything is right at your fingertips,” he said. “Service. Laundry. Qualunque cosa ti serva.”
“Essentially.”
“How big is this penthouse?”
“I don’t know. Maybe four-thousand square feet. It’s two levels.”
Yes, he’d noticed that.
“Is your uncle going to let you keep it?” Calisto asked.
“Ask him. Ask Affonso. I don’t know anything. I simply get told what to do, Calisto.”
“I told you, it’s Cal.”
And he wished she would start using it more.
He liked his full name in her mouth far too much.
“Do you want to see the rest of the place?” Emma asked, ignoring his comment.
Calisto shook his head. “No. I’m sure I’ll see it when you have to pack it up.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“Sorry you have to grow up, but that’s life.”
Emma scoffed. “No, that’s the mafia life. And that has nothing to do with growing up, thank you very much. It has to do with the fact that I own a vagina instead of a cock, so that makes me even more useless to my father and uncle. Instead, they’ve found another way to put me to good use. By marrying me off to a man thirty years my senior.”
Calisto flinched at the truth in her words. Spinning slowly, he faced her. Somehow, he managed to keep the shock off his face at the change in her attire and makeup. She hadn’t said much when she mentioned wanting to stop at her casino penthouse, other than to say she needed a minute to grab some things.
Apparently, those things included a much shorter, tighter dress, a wool trench coat, fire-red lipstick, and suede boots with sky-high heels.
The innocent, young-looking woman from earlier was gone. Her Sunday dress, pink lipstick, and give-a-damn were forgotten. While her morning attire had given off a taste of her sensuality, her current wardrobe, dark makeup, and ruby smile spoke entirely of her sexuality.
This woman looked a hell of lot more like the one Calisto had done his research on.
“Fair warning,” he said, “Affonso despises red lipstick.”
“I know. My father made me wash it off this morning and use my mother’s pink garbage.”
“And the dress you were wearing?”
“Something else picked out by my father.”
Calisto cleared his throat. “What are you trying to prove? I can’t exactly let you go out like this.”
“You don’t have to do anything. All you have to say is that you let me run up to the penthouse, and I came back like this. You didn’t have a choice because we were going to be late.”
That was bad.
Dirty pool.
Calisto liked it.
“Do you have no interest at all in making Affonso into some kind of bearable husband for you?” he asked.
Emma didn’t even blink. “Why should I? He doesn’t give a damn about being a good husband to me.”
He’d bested her in the car.
She had him this time, however.
“Point taken,” Calisto admitted. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Emmy.”
“I won’t.” Emma looked over her manicured nails as she said, “You know, you didn’t answer my question in the car. The one about your father.”
“Because I don’t know the answer.”
And because he didn’t want to talk about it.
“Is he in with the Donati family, too? He’s Affonso’s brother, right? I know better than to ask anyone about New York business. No one talks.”
Calisto scoffed darkly. “In with the family? You could say that—once. Don’t you have the internet? Do a web search.”
Emma’s brow furrowed. “I don’t need a recap on the hierarchy or rules of the mob, thanks. I’m aware of how that all goes down.”
“Oh, ragazza,” Calisto murmured, shaking his head. “What you should be more concerned with is the family you’re about to enter and how the man who heads it got where he is. That is the information you might want to brush up on. Unless, like your spoiled lifestyle might suggest, you prefer to bury your head in the sand.”
“Hey, now, don’t be an ass—”
“Don’t bark at me,” Calisto interrupted coolly. “I’m just giving you a heads-up. We have a couple more hours before the dinner party. Do you want to go through some of your things while we have the time?”
Emma made a face. “Nope. But the casino is open for business. That sounds like fun.”
Calisto knew better. He did.
“Are you any good at poker?” he asked.
Emma smiled slyly. “I’m a Sorrento. We’re all good at poker.”
Emma had a damn good poker face. Calisto gave credit where it was due. He’d thought she was slick with cards, seeing as how she kicked his ass at the poker table, but the fake smile she plastered on for the crowd, and the pretty, innocent girl act she put on for Affonso was something else entirely.
Then again, it was hard to seem innocent when the girl sported sky-high heels, a dress that was short enough to make a man’s mouth water, and a smile that said she knew it, too.
Calisto found himself paying more attention to Emma than he knew he should be.
The dinner went by smoothly, and for the most part, quietly. After they first arrived back to the Sorrento family home for the dinner, Emma had brushed off her father’s questions about her attire and her uncle’s demands that she wash the red lipstick off.
Ten minutes later, Affonso had arrived.
Calisto had watched, amused to no end, as his uncle took his spot beside his soon-to-be bride with an indifferent expression, but anger burning in his eyes. Affonso certainly wasn’t happy that his chosen bride-to-be had sexed up her classy attire and darkened her makeup for the dinner.
Emma was playing with fire. It was liable to get her burned. Calisto still enjoyed the show.
Sipping from
a glass of cognac, Calisto moved around the edge of the living room as the main couple of the dinner party took the head of the room. Words exchanged between Maximo and Affonso.
Another show for the crowd.
Calisto was bored.
Then Emma stepped in beside Affonso when he called her name. Instantly, the false smile she had been wearing all evening for the crowd suddenly melted away when a ring was produced. Even from Calisto’s spot twenty feet away, he could discern the shape and color of the jewelry.
A blue sapphire, cut princess-style, rested atop a white gold band. The piece was massive—ostentatious, even.
“… and to solidify an old friendship,” he heard his uncle say.
“Friendship,” Maximo echoed.
Emma allowed the ring to be slid down her finger.
But she was blank all over.
After downing the rest of his liquor, Calisto found the closest server he could to hand off the glass. Stepping out back of the large home to the enclosed porch, he lit up a cigarette and watched Maximo’s men laughed in a large group while the pungent smell of weed wafted through the space.
The men didn’t even notice he was there.
Calisto didn’t mind.
He’d just rejoined the people mingling in the house when Affonso settled in beside his nephew.
“Making friends?” Affonso asked.
Calisto resisted the urge to scoff. “I’m not the one cementing friendships here tonight, uncle.”
Affonso chuckled dryly. “True. Nonetheless, it would still benefit you to make a few connections here in Vegas, Cal.”
“Why? I have no intention of doing business here. The business I handle in New York is more than enough.”
“Mmm. You would make a fantastic boss, Cal. All you have to do is—”
“Be like you?” Calisto interrupted coldly. “No, thanks.”
Affonso scowled. “You chose this life. There is no out. Perhaps if you would embrace your blood, legacy, and position a little more, you might find it easier to accept and move on from the past, Calisto.”
Right.
That was a joke.
“I chose this life because I wasn’t given a choice. Because you tricked me into believing one thing, when in fact, all you did for most of my life was feed me lies. Once you had me in, there was no getting out. You didn’t give me a choice, uncle. And now I won’t give you one.”