My Mobster

by J. L. Drake

  Her almond eyes narrowed. “What qualifies as a really long time?”

  I rubbed my tear-stained face. “I haven’t been to rehab in nine and a half months. I haven’t tried to dance since the day I fell.” My voice wavered, and I wondered when Evie from Nebraska disappeared and this weak, pathetic girl hijacked her soul. If someone told me I would be in this position after living in New York for a little over two years, I wouldn’t have believed it. I was better than this. A better dancer. A better actress.

  Somehow, after I met Kevin, my life fell apart. First my career, then my ambition, and slowly my friends disappeared one by one, except Carmela. Now, I only had a worthless ex-fiancé to show for my life.

  “Do you still want to act on Broadway?”

  “I do, except every time I think about what the doctor said, I want to curl into a ball and die.”

  The corners of her lips tugged down into a frown. “The doctor said if you finished rehab, you could dance again.”

  I rubbed my hands along my thighs. “Not exactly. He said I might be able to dance again, but that he couldn’t guarantee anything.” I lowered my voice. “A ruptured Achilles tendon can be a career-ending injury for a dancer.”

  “So you gave up without knowing for sure.”

  “I was busy,” I lied. In actuality, the thought of packing up my bags and crawling back to Nebraska scared me to death. When Kevin proposed, I seized the opportunity to focus on something other than the end of my childhood dreams. I put my career on hold and micromanaged every detail of our wedding plans.

  Carmela jumped up and clapped her hands together. “Well, let’s pack your stuff and get you out of here before Kevin shows up. I’m not sure you’re strong enough to face him yet.”

  I didn’t bother arguing with her. “Where to? I don’t have money to rent my own place.”

  Carmela looked pointedly at my finger, where I still wore my two-carat custom-designed wedding ring. “Pawn your engagement ring. It will pay for a few months of your living expenses and physical therapy, and you always have your credit card. In the meantime, you have me, and that means you can stay at my place until you figure out how to put the pieces together.”

  Exhaling loudly, I twisted the ring on my finger, contemplating pawning it for cash. I’d never liked it. I told Kevin I wanted a sapphire, not a diamond, and something rough-cut, not refined and uptight like the ring he’d designed for me. He never listened to me. Everything revolved around him and what he wanted.

  When Kevin had to work late, I convinced myself he had to finish a few commissioned paintings. When I saw a red lipstick stain on his collar, I attributed it to paint. When he spent an entire party introducing his protégée to all of his friends and ignoring me, I called him a good mentor.

  “Don’t you think I should give it back?”

  Carmela’s eyebrows shot up. “No. You caught him screwing another woman in his art studio. Consider it your severance package.”

  “Yuck.”

  “Which part?” she questioned.

  “Both.” I took off the ring and stuffed it into my pocket. It didn’t mean anything, and all things considered, it never had. “I feel so dumb,” I mumbled.

  “Why? He took advantage of you. He should feel dumb. You, on the other hand, should feel lucky you found out before you married him.”

  I shoved my tangled strawberry blonde hair away from my face. “Not about the cheating—although, that is embarrassing enough. After we’d been dating for a month, I asked him what color my eyes were.”

  “And?” she said, planting her hands on the sides of her hips.

  “He said blue. Can you imagine? My eyes aren’t even close to blue. What a fucking loser. He could have said brown or hazel. He said blue. Even though I knew better, I stayed with him because I wanted the fairytale.” I tipped my head to the ceiling. “Now look at me.”

  “You’re right where you’re supposed to be.”

  I scoffed. “Broken, depressed, and unemployable?”

  “No, you’re smarter and more worldly. Every girl needs a reality check now and then, and now that you’ve had yours, you’ll be smarter next time.”

  My phone vibrated on the coffee table again. “He’s getting impatient,” I commented, watching the phone skip across the slick, dust-free surface.

  “Then let’s move.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Gian

  “No way, Carmela. I won’t consider it.” I picked up a towel, wrapped it around the back of my neck, and I walked out of the home gym and into my adjacent bedroom. “Stop asking.”

  “Gian, you need a personal assistant, someone to stock your kitchen, water your plants, go to the dry cleaners, and stop by the house when you’re out of town,” she called after me. Her four-inch red heels clicked against the wood floors with every step. “You’re rarely home between running the nightclub and your social life. What’s the big deal? You’ll barely see her.”

  I halted mid-stride and swung around, glaring at my twin sister. “The big deal is that I don’t want a fucking assistant. I don’t need anyone nosing around in my business, especially someone who’s not family. I can’t have random people in my space. You know that. Besides, I don’t need anyone else when I have you.”

  Carmela folded her arms across her chest. “Evie isn’t random. She’s my friend, and I don’t have time to do any of that stuff for you. I have a life too, you know.”

  “I don’t want a stranger in my home.”

  Carmela huffed. “Fine. Can you find a position for her at the club? She could do inventory or bartend.”

  “Does she have any experience?”

  She shrugged. “What’s so hard about counting bottles or pouring a drink?”

  “It’s a lot harder than it looks.” I rubbed the towel down the side of my face.

  She smiled and batted her eyelashes. “Please, Gianluca. I need you,” she said, drawing out my full name. I hated that name. Nobody called me Gianluca except our dad and strangers.

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “No, and you’re going to help me.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because you’re my favorite brother, and you’re always there when I need you. Right now, my really good friend needs you, which by extension, means me.”

  “I don’t have any openings.”

  She clipped the back of my head with her open palm like my mom had when I was a kid. I fucking hated it. “Well then, make one.”

  “Easy, Carmela. No need to get violent. I’ll find something.” I leaned my hip against the wall, placing myself out of striking distance. “Tell me about this friend.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “For starters, what’s her name?”

  “Evie Jeffers.”

  “Am I supposed to know the name or something?”

  Carmela shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “Great.” I rolled my eyes. “Tell me what makes Evie Jeffers so special.”

  “Like I said, she’s a close friend of mine, and she’s had a string of bad luck. She needs a break.”

  “What kind of bad luck?”

  “She’s an actress and—”

  I held up a hand. I didn’t need to hear one more word. I’d dated an aspiring actress last year for three months. She’d tried to sell a sex tape of us to a few websites, thinking it would give her the exposure she needed to land a breakout role. I shoved my foot so far up the website owner’s ass as soon as I got wind of it. Luckily, it never saw the light of day, and I learned my lesson. I’d had enough of fame whores to last me a lifetime. Besides, I needed to keep a low profile.

  I’d been promoted from soldier to capo six months ago when our dad’s health had deteriorated to the point where he couldn’t work. At twenty-seven, I became the youngest capo in the Trassato crime family. If everything went my way, I’d be promoted to underboss or consigliere by the time I reached thirty-five. As for Dominick, the boss and my
uncle, I wanted to position myself so I was on the short list to be his replacement when the time came.

  Without question, my promotion had pissed off a few people, and I couldn’t risk adding fuel to the fire. My dad only agreed to step down if I succeeded him. Some of the older soldiers didn’t like it, especially Carlo, but he could go fuck himself. Everyone knew he had the tendency to disappear when it came time to do the “heavy lifting.” He’d always make up some pathetic excuse about being sick or not knowing how to find the person.

  While I may not have been around as long as Carlo, I’d earned the promotion. I’d been doing my dad’s job plus mine for a solid year after my dad was diagnosed with cancer. Dominick didn’t fight my dad, which didn’t surprise me. He encouraged made men to nominate their sons for membership, believing it incentivized the members to keep the omertà or the oath of silence.

  However, Dominick didn’t play games. If he thought someone had been taking unnecessary risks and endangering the family, or by extension him, he considered it a direct show of disrespect, and there’d be severe consequences.

  I sliced my hand through the air. “You can stop right there. I’m not interested.”

  “You haven’t heard her story, Gian. How do you know?”

  “I can’t have a personal assistant or someone working in my bar who will call attention to me or my business.”

  Carmela shook her head. “Evie isn’t like Becca. She wouldn’t do that. She’s not looking for instant fame. She’s a hard worker. She’s landed a few big roles on Broadway, and her prospects were really promising until she hurt her ankle last year. She needs a steady income for a couple of months while she gets back in shape. When she’s not working for you, she’ll be at rehab and in the dance studio. She doesn’t have time for anything else.”

  “She hurt her ankle a year ago?”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “Why is she still in rehab?” I’d fractured my wrist in a bar fight when I was twenty-one. I had a cast for six weeks, and I had to do a shit load of physical therapy for the next few months, but it sure as hell didn’t interfere with my life for an entire year.

  Carmela fiddled with the cuffs of the white shirt peeking out of the sleeves of her bright red power suit. “She had some other things going on that diverted her attention.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Like what?”

  “She got engaged and moved in with her fiancé. She put off her rehabilitation to plan the wedding.”

  I raised one eyebrow. “Uh-huh, and where’s the fiancé now?”

  “She broke off the engagement.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s none of your business.” Carmela lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. I knew that look. I had seen it countless times when she faced off with our mom. I wouldn’t get much else out of her. Her stubbornness drove our parents crazy.

  “Is the ex going to be a problem?”

  “No,” she answered without hesitation.

  “Will I be dealing with a blubbering mess every day?”

  “Absolutely not. Evie is a strong person with a good head on her shoulders, and she’s really talented. She just needs a little help right now.”

  “So let her stay with you until she’s back on her feet.”

  “She has been. She doesn’t want to be dependent on me financially until she starts making money. She wants a job, but if she finds a normal job, she won’t have enough time to train or go to auditions. If you hire her, she’ll have flexibility and a place to stay.”

  My brows snapped together. “A place to stay?”

  She shifted on her feet. “Well, yeah. I thought she could stay where you take your…your whatever.” She waved her hand. “You know what I’m talking about. The apartment above your club.”

  I chuckled. “What are you, in kindergarten? You can’t say it.”

  She cocked her hip to the side. “Screw you, Gian. The last thing I want to talk about is my twin brother hooking up with all those random…” She shivered. “You know.”

  “You’ve got a point.” I chuckled. “I’m not sure I’m the person to help your friend.”

  “Interview her, and if you like her, offer her a two-week trial period. That’s all I’m asking.”

  Though my mind scrambled for a way to sidestep her request, in the end, I caved. I’d hire her for a trial period and terminate her when it was over. It’d be easy enough to scare her away.

  “Bring her by the club tonight, and I’ll interview her. That’s all I can promise you.”

  She pressed a kiss to my cheek. “I knew you’d help.”

  “I have a feeling I’m going to regret this,” I grumbled. “Now get out of here. I need to shower.”

  She held up her hand. “One more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t hit on my friend. She doesn’t need another asshole in her life.”

  “Got it. I’ll keep my hands and mouth far away from her.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “And every other body part.”

  “Have a little faith in me. I’m not that bad.”

  “No, you’re worse, and we both know it.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Evangeline

  After crashing on Carmela’s couch for a week and submitting job applications everywhere and anywhere, I didn’t have a single viable job prospect. Well, I had one. Carmela’s twin brother had agreed to interview me for a position at his club tonight. My stomach churned at the thought of working for Gianluca Trassato. I hadn’t met him. I didn’t know much about him except the little gossip I overheard from some of my actor friends when I introduced them to Carmela. Basically, they said he was a man-whore with connections to the mafia.

  Common sense told me to stay far away from him. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any other options except going home or running back to Kevin, neither of which I wanted to consider. Kevin had asked me to give him back the engagement ring, which I planned to pawn to fund my life. I hadn’t decided what I should do.

  I climbed out of the taxi and stood on the street with my hands parked on the waistline of my skirt, watching the scene in front of me. Laughter floated through the air, and bits and pieces of conversations filtered into my ears. The line to the club snaked around the block.

  Nightclubs weren’t my scene. I’d successfully avoided them since I moved to New York City a couple of years ago. Initially, I worked too much to do anything other than meet friends for dinner. After I met Kevin, we went to art galleries and charity fundraisers.

  Though Carmela had told me my name would be on the bouncer’s VIP list, I fleetingly considered abandoning this whole adventure and going back to her apartment.

  I can do this.

  I need this.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and marched forward, weaving through the throngs of people to the front of the line. Holding my head high, I ignored every groan and unflattering comment aimed at me.

  After giving the bouncer my name, I stepped through the open doors, pausing for a second to allow my eyes to adjust. The club was dimly lit with flashing lights. Music pounded from the speakers, vibrating my bones and muddling my thoughts. Writhing bodies moved on the dance floor, on the balcony, and in front of the bar. Thousands of teardrop-shaped crystals hung from the ceiling, reflecting the light and swaying with the music. It felt like I was underwater or in a cave.

  I pushed, elbowed, and shoved my way to the bar, ignoring three inappropriate touches in the process. Scanning the shadows, I didn’t see Carmela anywhere. Just my luck, she was late.

  “Excuse me!” I shouted, fighting to get the bartender’s attention. Technically, I shouldn’t order a drink. I was here for an interview, not a night of debauchery, but I needed something to settle my nerves. I made the mistake of answering a call from Kevin today, and he’d done his best to convince me to give him another shot. To my disgust, I briefly considered meeting him for dinner—then, I heard Ana’s voice in the background, and I lost my shit
.

  Waving my hand, I leaned forward, resting one elbow on the counter. “Hello?”

  “Hey, beautiful. Let me help you out. What are you drinking tonight?” a deep voice rumbled next to my ear.

  Eyes narrowed, I glanced to the side, ready to shoot down the offer. Then, I froze when my gaze landed on Michelangelo’s David in the flesh. Wavy dark hair neatly styled. A long, angular nose. Heavy-lidded, almond-shaped eyes. Sinful lips curled upward at the corners in a perpetual smirk. Expensive suit. Broad shoulders nearly twice the width of mine. Narrow waist. Thighs that…oh shit.

  I lifted my head, meeting his topaz-colored eyes. The lopsided grin on his face told me my not so subtle perusal hadn’t escaped his attention. Jittering my ankle in circles, I licked my lips. His eyes locked on the motion like a predator zeroing in on his prey.

  “No, thanks. I’m good,” I blurted out, desperate to end the encounter. Accepting a drink from him wouldn’t kill me—though after the fallout with Kevin, I’d sworn off men for the foreseeable future. I needed to get my career back on track and concentrate on my goals, and only then could I consider inviting another man into my life, even for one night.

  “It’s only a drink. One drink.” He grinned, his eyes somehow managing to look like fire and ice at the same time. “Unless you want it to be more.”

  My stomach jumped, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe. “I’m sure you’re busy with whatever guys like you do in places like this.”

  “No, I’m really not.” He chuckled, and the sound went straight to my heart like someone injected me with a shot of adrenaline.

  “Maybe later.” I glanced over my shoulder, desperately looking for Carmela. “I’m waiting for someone.”

  My phone buzzed in my purse. I flipped open the flap of my clutch and read the text.

  Carmela: Something came up. I’ll be there in an hour. Don’t you dare leave before I get there.

  I groaned.

  “Did you change your mind about the drink?” the man pressed.