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“Where is he tonight? I’m shocked he’s not right by your side.”
“Out on business. He might stop by later, never know with him these days.” Castor’s cheek flinches.
Trouble in paradise, perhaps? It’s not something I want to press. An uneasy feeling crawls around my gut when one of the waitresses walking by gives me a look. A ‘you-don’t-belong-here’ look. I should remember my place, especially considering Castor is sliding my coins back and forth on the table.
“Is that my cue to get back to work?” I ask, daintily going in to get my pay. I’m careful not to touch his fingers, because I’m not going to be the one to start the flirting if—
His giant hand folds over mine – just for a moment, but it’s enough to know a flame the size of Alaska just ignited between us. That look in his eye is back, and I’m not entirely sure what to think. “Stay for a minute. Have a drink.” He lifts his hand, and I find the two gold coins in mine. “Catch up a bit.” He raises his hand for a waitress to come by. “Scotch on the rocks. Blue label, please.”
I eye him, getting a little bit more turned on that he treats his server with some semblance of respect. That’s one in a million in a place like this. Then when his eyes flick to mine, I shrink internally.
“Gia? You are old enough to drink now, aren’t you? Unless my math is all wrong.”
I giggle like an idiot. “Malibu and cranberry, please.”
What am I doing?
I run my manicured fingernail over the gold coin, then pretend to bite it to check if it’s real.
“Don’t trust me?” he purrs.
“Hm. I wonder why you pay in gold. Is it just to short the other side?”
He flashes a grin. “Always the day’s average value. Strike one.”
“Are you goading me to guess again?” I look up at him as if I’m peering over an invisible set of glasses. “Fine. Um… To keep your ugly ‘Bullion’ reputation intact?”
He tilts his head back and forth. “Maybe a little now, but no, that’s not why. Strike two.”
I rack my brain for another reason, but why the hell would someone do that other than what I already mentioned? “I don’t know, I give up. Some sentimental value? Maybe OCD?”
“Strike three and four. It’s to keep my brain sharp.” He pokes his own head. “Constantly calculating. Also, keeps my buyers distracted.”
I nod slowly. “Smart. I’m pretty distracted.”
“See how well it works?”
Our drinks come at the perfect time. I’m positively gleefully giddy despite my nerves, wondering if I should push my luck, then recoiling at myself for daring to even entertain the forbidden fruit. The first sip sends a ripple of energy through me.
“Aren’t you worried people are going to start talking?” I ask, then take another sip.
“Let them talk.” He drapes his arm over the booth ledge again, doubling down on the visual. “Marco knows where my loyalties lie.”
I deflate almost entirely. That’s not what I wanted to hear.
Does that mean I’ve been reading way too much into this whole situation? Am I just wasting my time letting myself enjoy his company? I’m back in goddamn high school again.
No. Screw that.
I inch closer to him, and I can see his brow furrowing at my move. “Funny. I thought the big Bull made his own decisions. Gold, women, and all.”
For the first time, maybe ever, Castor stammers. Then the lights suddenly go out, followed by the music.
I yelp, thinking some rival mob family pulled the plug and is about to mow us all down, Scarface style. “Oh thank God,” I whisper when the dimmers come back on. My hand rests on my chest to make sure my heart’s still beating.
A slow bass pumps through the floor.
“Gentlemen of la famiglia de Valentino, welcome tonight’s prime entertainment!” A man wearing a black suit with purple lapels walks out on stage, mic in hand. His gestures are big and broad as he presents a group of silhouettes standing in the dark behind him. “High-class women of the tri-state gather for a special night with some of the most eligible bachelors on the scene.”
