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On the way to the club C surprises the shit out of me when she snaps her fingers and says, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Gavriel came by the bar a few days ago, the day you called in sick, and he asked about you.” Again with the sing-song voice.
I wait for her to elaborate, but when she doesn’t, I elbow her. “And? What did he ask and what did you say?” I sound like a needy teenager with a crush. I guess I am crushing hard, but I can’t play it cool when this is honestly the first crush I’ve ever had. The opposite sex usually lets me down, but Gavriel has been on my mind quite often, especially in my quiet moments.
“I told him you weren’t feeling well after dealing with the damn city clerk again, so you called in. He said”—she tries to imitate his deep voice and fails miserably—“‘was it about her parents?’ I told him yes, but that I didn’t think you’d be okay with me talking to anyone about it in detail.” True, it’s my business and Carla’s a good friend for keeping my confidence like that.
I can’t stop my stupid vibration from rushing through my chest. “Did he say anything else?”
I know I sound pathetic, but fuck it, I need to know every detail. I haven’t seen him since that night we spoke in the alley, but that hasn’t stopped his beautiful face and burning touch from invading my thoughts on the daily. Thinking of the way he touched my neck and ran his thumb over my lip never fails to get my girly parts throbbing and when I’m lying alone in bed some nights, it’s his face, voice, and touch that have me pleasuring myself.
Breathe, Sia.
“He just asked if you’ll be singing next weekend. I told him no.” Bitch knows I’ll be singing then!
“Carla! What the hell!” I smack her arm.
“Joking! Geez. I told him yes. Girl, you got it hard, don’t you?”
Blushing, I don’t answer. She knows how I feel because I’ve told her. He’s the only man I’ve ever looked at twice. The only man I’ve actually wanted in my bed and the only man I hope wants me too. Now that I know he hasn't forgotten about me, butterflies swarm my stomach.
Although, I probably shouldn’t be nurturing these feelings. Carla finally told me who the Renzettis are.
Gavriel is one of four sons to the mafia boss, Andino Renzetti, and theirs is the leading family of the Cosa Nostra. He’s also the current consigliere for his father and is known as Gavriel the Cruel Renzetti.
His family runs the most powerful, respected, and feared empire in North America with connections in the Chicago Outfit, Vegas Mob, and the Southern Mafias.
Their reach is far and wide.
They’re rich and powerful with blood on their hands and politicians in their pockets.
I’m not going to lie and say that I disapprove of such a lifestyle because I can honestly say, the government failed me. They fucking failed to protect not only me but thousands of children across the country. If I could, I’d live my life on the other side of the law because fuck them. Gavriel and his family have it right in my eyes. So what if they kill their foes? I have no qualms about spilling blood. It’s not a kink per se, but it’s like a drug to me when I make an adversary bleed. That may sound dramatic but walk a mile in my past and see if you don’t get a bit twisted as a result. Way I see it, you try to do me harm in any way, you instantly become my target.
My life has taught me that you’re either predator or prey, and I’m no one’s prey.
Unless it’s Gavriel Renzetti because,yes, daddy.
Shaking off my kinky thoughts, I quietly ask Carla, “You think Gavriel would be able to help me find information on my family? I’m sure he could go through back channels and find something.”
Quickly glancing at the driver to make sure he’s not eavesdropping, she says, “Yes, but to get a favor from the mob you’ll owe a favor. Doesn’t matter how small a favor you ask for, you'll be indebted to them. It’s a slippery slope. Just ask Joe.”
Turns out Joe took a loan from one of the Renzetti brothers to put toward the bar. Every time Gavriel or one of his family members come into the bar, everything is supposed to be on the house. I don’t know about the others in his family, but Carla says Gavriel never walks out without leaving enormous tips for the waitress attending the VIPs and paying for the bottles. That alone has me thinking that he’s generous and doesn’t look down on us blue collars working for paychecks.
Maybe.
Who knows? Not all that shines is always gold; he could be a sex trafficking bastard.
We pull up to the new, three-level club called Temptation, and instead of going to the back of the line that looks like it’s a block long, we walk right up to the entrance. Ignoring the grumbles of the people waiting to get in, Carla stops in front of the bouncer. She stands tall in her outrageous heels, white lace bodysuit and high waist white skinny jeans.
Blowing a loose red strand of hair that fell in her eyes when it escaped the updo, she says, “This is Sia Romano,” gesturing to me like she’s my music manager or some shit, “the singer from Medusa’s Lounge. She’s here to perform tonight.” Is she mimicking a British accent?
The bouncer looks me up and down then says something into his walkie-talkie. I can’t quite hear him because the music is pouring out the door, but it sounds like he’s speaking Italian. Once he gets a reply, he turns and unclips the velvet rope and lets us through. “Have a good evening, ladies.”
As soon as we’re inside and away from the bouncer I stop Carla and demand, “What the hell was that about? Did you call in and tell them I’d be performing tonight?” I’m not complaining if she did, but I would have liked a heads-up.
“No, I didn’t, I swear! I didn’t even think that would work. I just thought I’d give it a try since everyone knows you as the Manhattan Singer. I guess I was right or maybe I was just smooth enough to make him believe it.”
Scoffing, I say, “You were definitely smooth, but he spoke to someone on the talkie. Someone allowed us through but fuck it, I won’t complain. I’ll be singing my own songs tonight!” We girly jump and squeal like fools but do we care? No, no, we don’t.
Once we make it through the crowd of dancing bodies to the bar, Carla orders our first drinks of the night while I take in the scene. This club is fucking lit! There are some beautiful women dancing in G-strings and nipple tassels in hanging cages above the crowd off to the left and right of the stage. The VIP area is on the second floor, leveled with the cages, and is filled with people partying. It’s wrapped around the entire club except one wall. Looking to the third level, I see that all four walls are made of glass, but you can’t see in. It almost resembles the one-way mirror in a police station.
