My Mobster

by J. L. Drake

  “I’ll pay you back as soon as I get back on my feet. I swear.”

  I tucked a wayward strand of her fiery hair behind her ear and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “That’s not happening, sweetheart. I take care of what’s mine. Get used to it.”

  “I can’t accept this. I’m paying you back as soon as I have the money, with interest.”

  Jenna slid the credit card across the shiny black counter, and I stuffed it back into my wallet.

  “Someone booked your usual time for tomorrow, but this time is open the following day.”

  “What?” Evie said. “I reserved that time for the entire month.”

  “I let them have the time because your credit card didn’t go through—”

  “Unbook it,” I barked.

  “I can give her an hour later in the evening after the last dance class. Maybe 9 to 10. That’s the best I can do. How does that sound?”

  “No. That won’t work.”

  Evie tugged on my sleeve. “It’s not a big deal, Gian. I’ll take the later time. If you can’t take me, I’m sure Tony will or I can take a cab.”

  “No, Evie, it is a big deal.” I pulled a couple of hundreds out of my wallet and slapped them on the counter. “My fiancée booked that hour, and you’re going to honor her appointment. I’d hate for this to negatively impact your business. Do you understand what I’m saying, or do I need to spell it out for you?”

  Jenna eyed the money for a few seconds, and her shoulders drooped. “I assume you’ll be here at the same time tomorrow, Miss Jeffers?”

  “Yes.”

  I hooked my arm around Evie’s waist and ushered her out of the studio and into my car. Thank God, I had more than one, or I’d have had to get a rental.

  “By the way,” I said, pulling away from the curb and merging into steady stream of yellow cabs. “I won’t accept your money.” I cranked up the volume on the radio, signaling the end of the conversation.

  “You don’t have a choice.” Lowering the volume, she giggled with such an enchanting combination of sassiness and vulnerability I was relatively certain something inside of me had splintered wide open.

  “No, Evangeline,” I growled. I unclipped my sunglasses from my shirt and slid them on my face. “You’re not.”

  “We’ll see.” She tugged on her ponytail on top of her head, and her long flame-colored hair spilled over her shoulders. Rays of sunlight danced across her face and around her head, accentuating the golden highlights in her messy locks and the ivory perfection of her skin. I had to forcibly train my gaze back on the road. Shit. This woman tugged on all of my heartstrings without trying.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked, purposely changing the subject.

  “A little. Although, it has to be something low-calorie and carb-free. Your mom’s meal killed my diet last night.” She waved her hand in a tight circle. “Don’t get me wrong. I loved every bite, but I can’t eat like that every day. Not if I want to get back in shape and get a real shot in another musical.”

  “You sing?”

  She chuckled. “I sing. I dance. I can even act. I wouldn’t think about auditioning for a Broadway musical if I didn’t.”

  “Huh?” I tilted my head to the side. “I thought you danced and recited a couple of lines here and there.”

  “When’s the last time you went to a Broadway musical?”

  I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. “Five or six years ago. It’s…” I cleared my throat. “It’s not my thing. I tend to fall asleep.” To avoid stabbing myself in the eyes, I silently added.

  Her eyes widened, and she punched me lightly on the shoulder. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah,” I admitted. I’d much rather watch an action movie than a live production with people singing and dancing. Honestly, it gave me a big fat headache. I left at intermission the last time I went, swearing I’d never go back. “Don’t think about dragging me to one to prove me wrong.”

  “What happens if I get the part I’m auditioning for? You’ll have to go if only to play the doting fiancé.”

  “If you get a part in that play, how many months do you practice before the opening night?”

  “A month. Maybe two depending on the budget.”

  “Our arrangement will probably be over by then.” The second the words left my mouth, my insides wrenched painfully.

  Evie stilled, looking at me like I had wounded her, and then she smiled, except it looked brittle. “Okay, then, I guess you’re safe from being tortured by me.”

  “Lucky me.”

  For some reason, I didn’t feel lucky at all. I felt vacant. I wanted to be there to see her debut. I wanted to fill her dressing room with so many flowers you could smell them from down the hall. I forced the image out of my head. “So lunch? What do you feel like?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Evangeline

  I didn’t know what to do with myself. For the first time in over a week, I was blessedly by myself. No Tony. No Gian. No one. Gian met a friend of his for dinner. He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask any questions. On his way out the door, he handed me a stack of takeout menus and told me he’d be home late and not to wait up.

  I had roamed the floors of his home, peeking in rooms, opening cabinets, looking for nothing in particular. Maybe I wanted to know more about Gian. Maybe it soothed the anxiety building in my chest. For days, I had wanted time to decompress without anyone looking at me and judging me. Now that I had time alone, I hated it. I couldn’t stop thinking about last night and this afternoon. What they meant. What I wanted them to mean, if anything.

  Lunch and every moment afterward felt too good to be true. He opened my car door. He entertained me with stories of Carmela and him when they were kids. He held my hand while we strolled aimlessly through his neighborhood in search of the perfect dessert. We ended up in a cute Italian deli, and he ordered so many confections they blanketed the tiny bistro table.

  When I finally got around to bringing up what happened between us last night, he brushed my concerns aside, claiming we didn’t need to make a big deal out of it. He warned me not to complicate things. He told me we had plenty of time to figure it out. I ignored all of my doubts and continued pretending.

  Pretending Gian cared for me. Pretending we were happily engaged. Pretending Gian didn’t have ties to the criminal world. Pretending everything would be fine.

  Except now that he had left me alone for the first time in days, I couldn’t stop the tidal wave of thoughts from circling like vultures. Could I continue to crawl into his bed and pretend it didn’t matter? Could I handle being with him when we didn’t have a future?

  Sadly, my current circumstance bore an eerie resemblance to what happened with Kevin. He swooped into my life and took over every detail, all the while chasing his dreams even as I forgot about mine. As much as I wanted to believe I wouldn’t put Gian first and let my prospects crumble, my fortitude wavered in the past, and it could again.

  My exploration of Gian’s house at an end, I selected a cold-pressed juice from the refrigerator, an apple, and a paring knife from the kitchen. I flipped on the television and meticulously carved the apple into tiny wedges and popped them into my mouth one by one.

  I flipped aimlessly through the channels, not really watching anything in particular. Instead, I stared blankly at the flickering screen, questioning everything and everyone without a single available confidant on speed dial. I’d systematically burned through every relationship I’d made since moving to New York.

  After I hurt my ankle, I gradually stopped reaching out my theater friends. Being around them was too hard. With every passing accomplishment that belonged to them and not me, jealousy and regret multiplied until I couldn’t stand it. When I stopped returning their phone calls, they got the hint and followed suit.

  I still had Carmela and Kevin, so I pushed on, filling my time with meaningless wedding details and helping Carmela get over the death of her fiancé. Now, I had no one. Gian didn�
��t count. If everything worked to plan, he’d be out of my life by the end of the summer.

  When I realized I’d paused on an infomercial on skin care for a good half an hour, I turned off the television. My eyes heavy, I slumped against the arm of the sofa. I draped one hand over my face, and the other hand dangled above the floor, still clutching the stupid knife.

  Like everything else, going to bed involved a choice. I didn’t know if I should go to the guest bedroom or Gian’s bedroom. The weak part of me wanted to avoid the choice altogether and fall asleep here. It’d be easier, but taking the easy path over the last year landed me in this mess in the first place. I pulled the gray throw blanket over my legs, promising myself I’d make a choice soon.

  As my eyes drifted closed, the loud crash of exploding glass from somewhere near the entry ricocheted through the house. My heart skittered to a stop. The air whooshed out of my lungs in a half-scream and half-exhalation. I scrambled to my feet then fell onto all fours, tripping over the throw blanket tangled around my legs.

  With my eyes wide and my blood chugging like a freight train, I scrutinized every shadowed corner of the dimly lit room. Coming to my knees, I grabbed the discarded paring knife, gripping it so tightly my knuckles whitened. My jagged breaths echoed through room, competing for attention with the hysterical drum of my heart.

  I waited…

  Listening for a creak of the hardwood floors, a bang of a kicked in door, or more shattered glass. I stayed that way, with one arm raised prepared to slash at anything in my vicinity, my eyes wildly searching and scanning for anyone or anything.

  I heard nothing except the steady tick tock of the clock over the fireplace mantel and the constant whirr of the furnace. After I had managed to compose myself, I pushed to my feet and tiptoed to the foyer where the stairs were located.

  With my back pressed against the wall, I stopped dead. A strong breeze blew through the glass panel inset in the upper half of the front door. Tiny silvers of glass littered the gray and white marble floor, and a rust-colored brick was perched on its side. Black letters in all caps stained one side. The low light and angle of the offending chunk of clay prevented me from making out the words.

  “Oh my God,” I mumbled, panic inching up my throat. I swallowed it back and sucked in what I hoped would be a calming breath. I didn’t have time for a breakdown right now. I needed my phone. I needed to call Gian, and I couldn’t do either unless I went upstairs.

  Shivering, I sprinted up the stairs, my bare feet slapping against the cold treads. When I reached the third floor, I snagged my purse off the dresser and dumped it contents on the floor. Hands fumbling, I called up Gian’s name from my list of contents.

  The call went directly to voicemail. I tried two more times with identical results.

  Dammit, answer your phone. Where are you?

  If I lived with a different man, I’d call the police, but something told me Gian would lose his mind if I went that route. I scrolled through my contacts, pausing at Carmela’s name. I hesitated, recounting our conversation last night after I fainted. While she hadn’t done anything overtly rude, there was a big fat wall between us, and I didn’t know if I’d ever scale it.

  Sadly, she was my only option because my mom couldn’t do a damn thing from halfway across the country and my brother was deployed on the other side of the world. I pressed her name and waited. Unlike Gian, she answered on the second ring.

  “Hello?” she said over a steady hum of voices.

  “Carmela, it’s Evie.” My voice warbled.

  “Evie, are you okay?”

  “No.” I lowered my voice. “Someone threw a brick through the glass in the front door at Gian’s house.”

  “Where’s Gian?”

  “I don’t know.” I rolled my head in a circle, mentally pushing away the icy grip of fear. “He went out with a friend, and he’s not answering his phone.”

  She didn’t respond for a beat, then, “Did you call the police?”

  “No. Of course not.” I frowned, dragging my free hand down the back of my neck. “Do you think I should?”

  “No. No. It was probably a couple of kids playing a prank. I’ll be there in a few minutes. I’m not that far away.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” I leaned against the side of the dresser, trying to relax the knots in my shoulders. “Are you sure you’re okay with coming here? If you’re busy—”

  “Jesus, Evie, I’m not leaving you there alone. I know things are weird between us now that you’re…” she paused, and my heart constricted, “with Gian, but you’re still my friend. My best friend.”

  “I miss you.” It escaped my mouth without forethought, and it was the truth. Without question, I missed her, more than I ever imagined possible.

  Horns honked in the background and cars revved their engines, and for a second, I wondered if she’d heard me.

  “I miss you too, Evie. Sit tight, I’m already on my way there. In fact, I’m less than two blocks away.”

  “Will you stay on the phone until you get here? I’m scared. I don’t think anyone is around, but—”

  “I wouldn’t dream of hanging up. We can hang out at my house until Gian gets home. Okay?”

  “Yeah.” I rested my head on top of my knees. My muscles felt like limp noodles as the adrenaline leeched from my body. “That sounds perfect.”

  “I’m sorry if I haven’t been supportive of this thing with my brother.” She blew out a breath. “It came out of the blue, and I didn’t know how to handle it. You’re my best friend and all, and as bad as I want you to move on from Kevin, I don’t like that you’re doing it with my brother. I mean, you’re engaged. How did that happen?”

  My teeth clamped together to halt the urge to spill the truth about my relationship with Gian. At this point, a confession would only drive a bigger wedge between my best friend and me. “I don’t know. I couldn’t explain it if I tried. It just did.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t expect you to.” She snorted. “You gotta admit this is awkward on so many levels.”

  “I can’t disagree with you.”

  “Is it weird that I’m torn between feeling protective of you and my brother? I want you to have a rebound. You deserve it. Everyone should go a little crazy after dating a piece shit like Kevin, but I don’t like the idea that you’re using my brother to—”

  “It’s not like that,” I interrupted, tugging on the hem of my pants.

  “Yeah, I don’t want any details. Okay?” She sighed dramatically. “And honestly, my brother is the last person who needs my protection. He doesn’t exactly have the best track record with women. I swear he has had a revolving door in his bedroom since he turned sixteen.”

  Although it wasn’t anything I hadn’t suspected, my stomach dropped like an elevator with a severed cord, and I kind of felt like I wanted to hurl. “Wow. That’s exactly what every woman wants to hear about her fiancé.” I forced out a chuckle so I didn’t sound needy and pathetic. I was done being that person. “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure. I like to take cheap shots at him whenever possible.” She laughed. “I’m walking up the steps now. Come open the door.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-ONE

  Gian

  “Hey, Nico.” I slid into a dark brown leather booth, opposite him. “How are you doing?”

  “Good, good. You?” He leaned forward, resting one elbow on the table and the cutlery clattered. A chunk of dark brown hair covered one of his brows. Most women considered him attractive with his sharp, angled face and dimpled chin. To me, he looked like a smug bastard.

  I shrugged one shoulder. “Other than last night, everything is great. Fucking wonderful.”

  He brushed a hand down the front of his charcoal suit, looking like Satan in the flesh with his vacant, icy blue eyes crawling over every inch of me. “You want to tell me what happened last night?”

  A waiter placed two glasses on the table and a bottle of wine. Not my first choice of dri
nk, but if I wanted to make it through tonight without getting in a fight, I needed something to relax me.

  I draped one arm along the back of the booth. “There’s not much to tell. I think you’ve heard what happened, and as of right now, I don’t have a single thing to add. This meeting is a waste of time.”

  Nico’s nostrils flared. “Listen here. You don’t get a special pass because Dominick is your uncle. You have to play by the same rules as the rest of us, and that means reporting shit like this to me. First Tommy Calvo and now this. In case you didn’t notice, this isn’t the Gian show. This do ‘whatever you feel like’ shit has to stop. End of the fucking story.”

  I took a deep drink of my glass of wine and slammed it on the white linen covered table. Smirking, I squeezed my hands into fists to dial back the anger bubbling in my gut. Punching Nico in the face wouldn’t get me anywhere.

  “You have something you want to say to me?” he taunted.

  “I didn’t clip Tommy.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He leaned forward, his face within spitting distance of mine. “You need to control the guys under you, or you will be replaced. It’s as simple as that. Some of the guys didn’t think you were ready to be a capo, and now I’m wondering if they were right.”

  I ground my teeth together. “I can handle my shit just fine. I don’t need you to babysit me.”

  “Fine.” He waved his hand. “Then start handling it, and tell me what happened last night because I don’t have all fucking day to play patty cake with you.”

  I shot Nico a humorless smile filled with venom. “A black Escalade rammed us on the way home last night and took a few shots at us. I went down a one-way street and lost them. That’s all I know. Tony and Sal are looking into it.”