NICK
I sat back in my chair and cracked my knuckles. It wasn’t until then that I recognized the restlessness that ghosted under my skin.
I didn’t know how I was going to get through the work day with Elena in my home, willing to take off her clothes whenever I asked her to. The idea was a constant in the corner of my mind, and it was the exact reason I didn’t want to marry her. I sat in front of five men who would kill me if they could, in the conference room of my club, and I couldn’t think about anything but how she had looked naked in my kitchen, how smooth her skin was, how she’d tasted.
She tasted better than hustling.
I hadn’t planned to do it. I was going to get something else out of Salvatore for fucking me over, but when he’d said Oscar Perez . . . the irrational burn concerning Elena had seared through my veins. So, I found out where he resided and then I shot him in the goddamn head. I’d tried to pacify myself with that, but Salvatore would just pawn her off to someone else, and I knew for God only knows what reason I couldn’t fucking handle it.
“Here’s an idea, why don’t you—”
“Here’s an idea,” I cut Rafael off, my voice remaining impassive. “Why don’t you get the fuck out.”
A tense air crept through the room on hands and knees. I couldn’t listen to his stupid proposition for one more second.
The Mexican drug lord’s tanned complexion turned red and blotchy. “It was only business advice, from one man to another,” he seethed, standing.
“If I wanted business advice from a man poorer than me I would have asked for it.”
Rafael slammed the conference room door before the three of his men could make it out behind him.
“Are we done here?” I asked the table.
With tight countenances and some shifting gazes, the men all got to their feet and headed out of the room.
“Well,” my uncle Jimmy said from the seat beside me, “someone needs to get laid, and it ain’t me.”
An understatement if I ever heard one.
It’d been close to two weeks now and the urge was beginning to burn, to bubble over until it became an absolute necessity. Even I knew I became a jackass when I abstained from sex. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d gone this long. There was no particular reason for the lapse, except for the annoying notion that I’d acquired a sudden hard-on for long black hair and, lately, I’d only come across one who had it.
“Not good business, going and pissing off our suppliers,” Jimmy said, lighting a cigar and leaning back in his chair.
“It was a stupid venture and you know it.”
“Bad deal, what you did to that Perez, Ace.” He shook his head.
So the man was a little more prominent than I’d first presumed. There would be people who’d miss him. “The only thing I regret is that I didn’t make it last longer.”
I glanced down the table to see three pairs of eyes on me. Lorenzo rocked in his chair, looking at me like I’d kicked a puppy, while Ricardo and Dino—a capo of mine—sat beside him, their keen attention on me as well.
At that moment, Gianna breezed into the conference room. My eyes narrowed, taking in her tight black dress that all club waitresses were mandated to wear, but she violated the dress code with her choker necklace and high pigtails.
She stopped by Lorenzo’s side, holding out her palm. Without looking at her, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a wad of bills, setting it in her hand. She licked her finger and then began counting it like Lorenzo would short her. He was a Russo—he would.
“And what was this bet?” A dark edge crept into my voice.
Lorenzo scratched the back of his neck. “Whether or not you’d marry Elena instead of her sister, boss.”
My jaw tightened.
Gianna pursed her lips and held out her hand again. Lorenzo sighed, reached back into his jacket and dropped the rest of the bills in her palm.
“Thanks, Lo.” She spun on her heel to leave.
“Wait a minute,” I said.
She stopped in front of the door, her shoulders tensing.
“You’re not working here.”
She turned around, glaring at me. “Why not?”
“Because you’re a train wreck, that’s why. Once you can pass a drug test, then I’ll think about it. Return your uniform before you leave.”
I should have known not to give her a choice of who to marry after my papà passed. The capo was too old for the business, let alone to control Gianna. Which was undeniably the reason she’d chosen him.
Her smoky eyes went steely around the edges. “Fine.” And then, in classic Gianna fashion, she grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it off in one defiant swoop.
I gave my head a small shake, annoyance running through me.
Lorenzo rolled back so he could get a better look at her in only a black bra, thong, and heels. Ricardo whistled, and Jimmy chuckled before coughing on some smoke.
Gianna was hot, and she knew it. Even her tasteless style seemed to draw men in more than turn them away. But she’d been little more than a pain in my ass since my papà had died. And it looked like she was angry enough she was going to hurl her dress at my face.
“Try me,” I warned.
A frustrated noise escaped her. She chose the safest option and threw it on the floor, before turning on her heel and marching out of the room.
Lorenzo let out a low whistle at the sight as she left.
With regret, her bare ass was making me think of another bare ass, and a rush of heat ran to my groin.
“Fork it over, Ricky,” Jimmy said, puffing on his cigar.
Ricardo tossed some cash across the table, before giving me a nod and leaving the room.
“You too, huh?” I asked.
The moment with Elena on my kitchen counter was starting to replay on a loop in my mind. Her little sounds, her smell—fuck, I needed to get laid.
Jimmy collected his money. “Who do ya think made the bet? It’s been going since your engagement party.”
I wasn’t even surprised I’d been that transparent.
I was another man pining after her.
Fuck me.
But she was mine now, whether I liked it or not. And I didn’t. She was fucking distracting. She had a body I wanted to bury myself in and never leave, and it was why I was forcing myself not to go home tonight. I had to have some control where that woman was concerned. Had already told myself I wouldn’t touch her until the wedding, just to prove to myself I could. But then she was in my space . . . and fuck, I couldn’t do it.
She’d barely stepped in my door before I had her naked on the kitchen counter.
The funny part of it—though arguably not funny at all—was that she didn’t want anything to do with me. I was hung up on this girl, badly, and she was in love with some other man. Something green burned through my veins like a lit wick, and I ran my hand across my jaw.
They’d killed the man she was with when she ran away, but they weren’t found in a compromising position and neither did the apartment belong to him. It was possible they killed the wrong man and her lover was still alive. At least, that’s what I heard through the grapevine, and regardless of how much I ached to, I wasn’t digging further.
I’d always considered my morals to be slightly lower than mediocre, but it was at this moment I knew I was far, far below redemption.
Because innocent or not, if that man wasn’t dead and he crossed my path, his lifeless body would be unrecognizable.