Dark Secrets

by Jessica Gadziala

  That being said, Salvatore was stern. He was cool, confident, intelligent, business-minded and very rarely found cause to smile or even become a vague facsimile of amused.

  Which might have been why he was her favorite of the brothers.

  That and, where Anthony was an outright dickhead and Gio was mostly-absent and hard to get a read on, you always knew where you stood with Salvatore.

  He was also, arguably, the most attractive of the brothers. While they all looked a lot like their father, minus a couple decades- tall, wide-shouldered, dark-haired, dark-eyed, fit, with classically handsome facial features, there was just something about Salvatore she found more appealing.

  Maybe it was as simple as the soft spot he had for her.

  That was a major compliment to be the soft spot in a man who was otherwise all cinderblock and barbed wire.

  "Hey, I'm not putting on a happy face for the new guy. He won't last any longer than the others and you know it."

  "And I'm sure none of that has to do with you scaring them off," Salvatore agreed, nodding his head when she gestured to the vodka bottle she kept under the bar that was full of water.

  They had an agreement- when there was a business meeting, she over-poured for everyone else and made his drinks of the non-alcoholic variety. In turn, he would never tell Vin that in a fit of rage over an argument with him, she had poured his favorite bottle of whiskey down the drain and replaced it with well whiskey and he never even noticed.

  There was a lot Vin would forgive of her, but he was not a man who would allow someone to pull one over on him.

  And while her and Vin's arrangement had overall been an amicable one, she didn't doubt for a moment that he was capable of back stabbing her.

  That was why, even ten years in, she never got completely comfortable there.

  "If little ole' me can scare them off, they don't belong here," she said, pushing his drink toward him.

  "Kid, if you don't see that you're the most formidable person in this bar at any given time, you really underestimate yourself," he said, toasting her with his drink as he moved back to the table where Max's head turned in her direction and he gave her a sexy little chin incline.

  Weird night.

  And as she watched the last person walk away from the bar, effectively taking away any chance for her to distract herself from Danny, she exhaled hard and tapped her nails on the bar.

  "Okay. I'm going on break," she declared abruptly, going toward the opening in the bar. "Hold down the fort."

  She kept her steps calm and deliberate as she walked out and into the kitchen, but all but ran out the back door and into the alley, leaning against the wall, half curled over, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths, reminding herself that she was a badass, strong, experienced woman and that she could not and would not be brought to hysterics over some weird attraction to the new guy at work.

  She was better than that.

  She had more self-control than that.

  She straightened and opened her eyes, stifling a yelp when she found Danny standing right in front of her, somehow sneaking up on her, silent though the door to the kitchen squeaked and slammed due to joints in need of some WD-40 and the sheer heaviness of it.

  No one got the drop on her.

  But he had done it twice.

  What the hell?

  "We're outside the doors," he declared and she felt her stomach pitch to her feet in realization just a mere second before one of his hands went to the side of her neck, pulling her forward, his head ducked, and his lips crashed into hers.

  Crashed.

  She should have expected nothing else.

  With the way they clashed, she should have expected that any romantic physical interactions between them would be like a battle.

  But somehow she was unprepared.

  As such, she let out a surprised moan as his lips bruised into hers, as his teeth grabbed her lower lip and pulled hard enough for her to gasp as her sex clenched hard in response.

  Corey was kidding about Faith being into feet.

  She knew what Faith's thing was.

  Faith liked all things rough.

  Danny's other hand went to her lower back, so low it was more ass than back, pulling her against his firm body, so tight that when her hips met his, she could feel his hard cock pressing into her, as needy as her own desire felt.

  His tongue moved inside and claimed hers, angling his head in such a way that she had to turn hers completely up to the sky as he did what any invading force did- pillaged, stole something violently from her, something she didn't know was a part of her and didn't even know what to call it. But whatever it was, it was no longer hers. It was his.

  A low, throaty moan escaped her as his hand on her neck slid back and up, sifting into the hair at the base of her skull, letting it slide between his fingers before curling them and yanking down hard, sending a heady pain/pleasure mixture through her system that had her pressing her thighs together until they shook to try to ease the clawing, aching, insistent desire there.

  His lips pulled from hers and when her eyes fluttered open, she found his heavy-lidded gaze on hers, intense, penetrating. His hand pulled again, a little harder, ripping a whimper from her.

  "Oh, baby," he said, shaking his head ever-so slightly, "this is going to be fun," he declared, releasing her hair suddenly and pushing away from her.

  She watched, more than a little dumbfounded by both her overwhelming desire and his sudden departure, as he moved to the kitchen door and slipped inside.

  She sank back against the wall, sliding down it until her ass was hovering a few inches above the ground, her arms wrapping around her knees.

  Her lips felt overly sensitive and sore. Her scalp was tingling from the pulling. Her panties were wet and her heart was slamming so hard in her chest that she was almost surprised when it didn't break out of her ribcage.

  "Shit," she hissed, closing her eyes and pulling in a long breath that annoyed her by being shaky.

  He shouldn't have been able to get such a response out of her. Hell, he shouldn't have been able to tell she was into rough that quickly, that effortlessly.

  A part of her wanted to brush it off and say it was his thing and it was just a coincidence that it was hers too. But she had a distinct feeling that that wasn't the case.

  Danny, for all his bullshit charm and bravado, was observant.

  He had picked it up about her even though she generally didn't wear that particular kink as a badge of honor. In fact, she very rarely indulged in it save for some partners who happened to be into hair pulling or ass smacking. She had only been with one guy who she really explored that kind of thing with. And that was years ago.

  Hell, she had almost forgotten it was her thing it had been so long.

  But Danny knew.

  And that, well, that was problematic.

  There was a familiar squeak that drew her attention and she was left to, yet again, wonder how the hell Danny had come out that door without it making that noise.

  He was like a fucking ninja.

  "Mi amor," Rodrigo said, stopping short. He snuck out for a toke toward the end of his shift, needing to calm his nerves after a nearly sixteen-hour day. "Etsá todo bien?"

  Rodrigo spoke perfectly clear English. But he liked that she could, while not speak, at least understand his native tongue.

  "Yeah. I have a headache," she improvised, moving to stand.

  "Dolor de cabeza," he said, reaching in his pocket for his smoke and lighting up, lips tipped up. "I know what gives you a headache, cariño."

  She knew she was going to regret asking.

  Really, any woman who worked hospitality knew that while they were genuinely sweet and you could beg or guilt them into doing special favors for you if you were really cute, the back of house guys were all genuinely filthy.

  But she asked anyway.

  "What's that?"

  "Vitamin D deficiency," he said, smirking. And she knew damn well
that the D he was talking about had nothing to do with sunlight. "If you and niño bonita don't work out, I have everything you need, princesa."

  "I'll keep you in mind," she said, giving him a forced smile and kissing his cheek on her way to the door.

  "Faith, mi amor, I keep you in my mind too. Cada maldito noche."

  Every damn night.

  As she walked back inside and set to breaking down the bar for the night, completely pretending that Danny didn't even exist regardless of how childish that might have been, she had a feeling that she and Rodrigo would be having similar afflictions.

  Because after that kiss in the alley, she knew what was going to keep her awake.

  Danny.

  Every. Damn. Night.

  SIX

  Danny

  The night was a series of 'what the fuck' moments.

  First, Max.

  He wasn't supposed to be there. It was Danny's job, case closed. He was supposed to butt the fuck out and let him handle things. It wasn't some two man operation and it never was. That wasn't how it worked. When you brought in another man, the chances of getting caught doubled.

  Worse yet, the fuck didn't think to at least warn him.

  Fuck asking permission. Men like Max didn't do shit like that and it was something that Daniel not only understood, but respected.

  But he should have told him he was in.

  Because seeing him walk into Lam like he fucking did it every week made him take pause, made him stiffen, gave a reaction that anyone could have picked up on if they were paying attention. And people like Vin, his sons, and their associates were always paying attention.

  It was a fuck up.

  And they were going to have to have words about it later.

  Then, not only had he shown up, he had personally come up to the bar and ordered a drink from Faith. Why? Yeah, that was a good question. Maybe he was just trying to get a feel for her, see if she was some kind of threat. Or maybe he just wanted to flirt with her over some fucking booze knowledge. Either way, it pissed Daniel off. If the first, because that meant he didn't trust Daniel's instincts on her, didn't think he was reading her clearly. If the second, well, it didn't take a genius to know that Daniel wanted Faith, regardless of it being unprofessional and stupid. And Max either picked up on that and was fucking with him or he was attracted to Faith too and was laying groundwork to make a move.

  Which wouldn't fly.

  No fucking way.

  Then, of course, there was the fact that he had charged out into the alley and kissed her.

  Stupid? Sure.

  Inevitable? He thought so.

  Really, when two headstrong and sexually confident people found themselves in close quarters and attracted to each other, it was bound to happen. Usually sooner rather than later. And, fact of the matter was, it was a problem whether it happened or not. If it did happen, you ran the risk of it fucking up the work situation and maybe leading to one of you quitting or getting fired. But if it didn't happen, it would likely mean they would do nothing but butt heads, piss each other off, frustrate the customers and the bosses, and cloud judgement. Most especially, his.

  That couldn't happen.

  So maybe it was a good thing.

  If you'd ask his dick, it was a damn good thing.

  Faith kissed like she slung attitude- with every ounce of passion in her. And to his surprise, and other ever loving delight, hard-ass, takes-no-prisoners Faith Costa liked to give up control to the men she was with. That surprised him. Why, he wasn't sure. It was often not the meek, shy little girls who liked things rough, liked an alpha man to take over. In his experience, it was usually the strong, fierce women who liked that. Maybe for them it was cathartic, to be given the permission to let things go, to have someone else take over.

  He never used to be into the take control and inflict pain-pleasure kind of guy. Up until his early twenties, sex was nothing but a fun, mutually enjoyable way to spend some time with a woman.

  But then life happened. His job happened. He suddenly found himself almost constantly surrounded by the scum of the Earth and in a position where he had to kowtow to them.

  Maybe that was where it sprang from- from being so under peoples' thumbs for so long that he liked to take control in one of the few places he could- in bed.

  Whatever the hows and whys, it was how he was built.

  Apparently due to her own hows and whys, it was how she was built as well.

  And damn if that didn't make her all the more appealing.

  He wasn't the least bit surprised that once she came back inside, she avoided him like the damn plague. He knew how much she wanted it.

  All in all, not an altogether bad night.

  He even learned a couple things about the D'Onofrio family. Like Anthony wasn't just a douchebag. And Vin didn't prevent him from going behind the bar out of some kind of show of power. No. Anthony was very likely an extreme alcoholic. By his count, he had drank eight cups of the heavy pour Faith did, shaking her head every time. And if he was drinking that hard in front of his father, brother, and business partners, it only went to follow that he drank more when there was no one to keep him in line.

  Salvatore, however, only pretended to drink.

  When he came up for a refill and Faith pulled the vodka bottle out from under the bar instead of the back bar where it should have been, he got curious and checked out the bottle when she wasn't looking. What he found was water.

  Salvatore liked control in all things, especially business. So having a clear head while discussing business matters was important enough to him to fake drink because he knew that the men at the table would lose respect for him if he didn't have a rocks glass in his hand.

  Not groundbreaking information, but information none the less.

  Every little piece could prove important at some point.

  You never knew.

  The bar went and stayed empty around midnight, leaving them both to decide to break it down for the night. The meeting came to a close at around twelve-thirty, Vin walking most of the men outside as Max went out of his way to say goodnight to Faith who gave him what he could only call a genuine smile, something she did so rarely that it was almost startling to see when she did. It made her entire face light up.

  Vin came back in ten minutes later, walking right over to Faith and sliding a thick envelope across the bar toward her with absolutely no ceremony. And she took it with the same enthusiasm, making him suddenly wonder if she wasn't just a bartender after all.

  What could a mob boss be giving her an envelope full of?

  Chances were, nothing good.

  Daniel sighed, wiping down the bar again even though he had already done so twice and so had Faith.

  "You'll show him how to do the spill log and cash out tonight, yeah?" Vin asked and he could see Faith visibly deflate at that. "He doesn't need much more training. It'd be good to get this out of the way. The kitchen is closing down now. You will have quiet to go over it," he finished, patting her hand and moving toward the door. "Goodnight kids," he called, nice Italian father persona seeping through his pores in a way that made Daniel sure that while he was absolutely other things, that was a part of it. No one could fake it that well.

  "Mi amor," Rodrigo, the kitchen guy who had an obvious and one-sided crush on Faith called from the side of the bar. "Need a walk home?"

  Faith sighed, shaking her head. "Vin just left but not before giving me another hour of work to do. But thanks, Rodrigo. Always looking out for me."

  "Happily. Someone should be looking out for you, bella dama."

  She gave him a forced smile. "Have a good night, Rodrigo."

  "You too. Don't work too hard," he said, giving her a wave, ignoring Daniel completely, and disappearing into the kitchen.

  When she didn't immediately move to engage him, instead clicking away at her phone for a long minute, he prompted, "So the spill log..."

  She exhaled hard and put her cell away, turning to the bac
k bar and dragging out a big leather-bound book. "The spill log," she started in a tired, eighth- grade teacher kind of way, "where we record drinks we quite literally spill, got returned, or are on the house because of a screw up or because they're friends of Vin. For example, tonight," she said, flipping open to a page somewhere halfway in and starting to write, "no drinks were actually spilled or returned, but we had two Balvenie 40s, seven pours of Johnnie Blue for Anthony, three pours for Vin, then four each for all of his guests," she went on, scribbling fast, remembering each of their drinks and jotting them down.

  "Nice memory there, sweetheart."

  "And then what you do," she said, completely ignoring him, "is you flip to this glossary I printed out on the back that tells you how much each spill is. Then you add that all up and subtract it from the nightly totals. You do the totals by hitting this button for the count," she went on, going to the register and pushing a button, making a long receipt print out of it. "Then you need to count out the drawer keeping in mind we keep about five-hundred in small bills in it at all times as well as eighty in change. So you subtract the five-eighty from what is in the drawer. You then remove whatever is above that, leaving the five-eighty in, and put it in this sleeve," she said, grabbing a zippered bag from under the register. "Then you take this receipt and write on the bottom the amount of money spilled so when me or Salvatore does the close-out in the morning, we get the total right."

  "Why don't you teach me to do the close-out?"

  "Because we like to leave it until the morning in case there were any errors the severs or anyone made with the credit cards. It gives us a chance to fix them before we submit it. Besides that, you're new and the totals are a big deal. No offense, but no one trusts you enough for that yet."