Page 10 of Venomous Throne

“Running the dealership,” I corrected.

Beatrice didn’t hear me. “And to think Marco agreed to it. He’s so generous. Say—” she wiggled her eyebrows “—he’s not a bad looking fellow, if you catch my drift.”

My molars ground together, and I fisted my hands so as not to strangle the woman. I looked past her, not joining in the conversation, something she seemed to have no trouble with. My gaze swept over the café….

And collided with one made of steel and ice.

It was the man from the grocery store.

That frigid gaze narrowed to slits, as if he saw something he didn’t like. I winced, wondering if I said or did anything he thought was odd.

Okay, well, climbing barefoot into the cart for the butter was odd. Certainly not my finest moment.

But to make him react like that? My mouth went suddenly dry, and I wet my lips.

The man looked away, to where a barista called out an order.

He was taller than I remembered, not that my mind was a reliable source on the matter. His body was carved from hours of training. That long-sleeved black tee wasn’t hiding anything. A short, neat beard, the color of a burnt sunset, covered his face, while his hair was a dark, dirty blonde pulled back into a tight knot on the back of his head.

I wondered how long it was when loose.

“So that’s what I think,” Beatrice gabbed.

Turning to her, I gave her a fake smile. “Sounds great, I’ll give it some thought!” I scooped up my belongings, dumping the material into the oversized tote bag, before adding, “Now, I have to get going!”

She stammered something, but I was already crossing the distance.

The stranger picked up his order as I dropped off my cup and saucer on the other end of the short counter.

I turned to him, a smile ready and some easy opening line.

“Bloody hell, you have to be joking.” Those words, spoken in a harsh whisper, made the whiskers on his chin dance. He gave me a long, lingering look before turning sharply on his heel and leaving, black coffee in hand.

“Hey, wait!” I tripped, catching myself on the counter, and scrambled after him. But when I emerged on the pavement, hewas already turning the street corner. Those long legs ate up the distance.

I pursed my lips. Not only was it quite possibly the rudest interaction, but it might have been the strangest. It was as though he hated me, and yet, he didn’t even know me!

Unless…he does?It was quite possible he knew who and what my late husband was. I rubbed my arms, even though the gust of wind was hot from the summer’s day. It still unnerved me.

I was cursed. First with a bad marriage, now with a black mark on my record as that bastard’s widow. It was time to shuffle the cards and deal myself the hand that I wanted.

Chapter 6 – Isabella

“What is she doing?” I murmured in a low voice to Franky, keeping my eyes pinned on the woman with firetruck red hair. The man she was standing next to hadn’t paid for a lap dance.

The relic looked over his shoulder and visibly winced. “Exactly what you think she’s doing.”

I pursed my lips.

The sultry music played soft and low throughout the joint. A few blue-collar workers lounged in chairs, too tired to do more than watch Ivy and Jasmine spin around the poles.

The decision to take over the famiglia was one that didn’t require much thought. A couple of bottles of pink wine—which sober Isabella regretted—and the secret list of the pros and cons convinced me.

So I made a point of visiting each of the family businesses. Which was how I found myself at The Ivory Pony on a Tuesday afternoon.

The gentlemen’s club was too obvious a place to launder money. Which was a mistake I wanted to remedy as soon as I took power. While I might keep the joint for meetings and themorale of the soldiers, we shouldn’t have any monetary paper trail attached to these books.

And we most definitely wouldn’t condone the girls propositioning clients.