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Her hand paused, leaving a blob of nail polish on the middle of my thumbnail. “You’re not serious?”
“Um, serious as a heart attack?”
She scoffed. “Yeah, right. Heart attacks aren’t really that guy’s style, are they?”
“I didn’t plan it. It just sort of…happened.” I shrugged with one shoulder while she went back to smoothing out the blob.
“Raven, that guy is trouble. A random hottie was one thing, but Nico Costa? That’s just a bad idea, and you know it.”
“It isn’t like anything is going to come of it. He’s not the kind of guy who keeps coming back for more, so it’s done. It’s no big deal.”
It wasn’t entirely the truth. Part of me very much wished he was the kind of guy who came back for more, but he was notorious for more than his murder-y side. The guy was never seen with the same woman twice, but it didn’t matter because Nico Costa wasn’t the objective here.
She slipped the nail polish brush back into the bottle and looked at me. “You’re sure about that?” she asked. “I get the appeal. He’s like a roller coaster you want to ride again and again, but even if he wasn’t a psychopath, he’s a one-time use only kind of guy. He’s not going to let you ride him until you get bored and want off. I don’t want to see you get hurt—or dead.”
“Well, I have no intention of going on that ride. I don’t like roller coasters, and I’m kind of attached to breathing.”
She eyed me for a minute, but then her lips quirked up in a smile. “Nico freaking Costa, huh? You’ve got to tell me how you managed that one.”
I smiled. “A girl’s got to have her secrets. Besides,” I said, glancing at the clock on the wall, “it’s time to get my slutty butt moving.” I glanced at the mirror once more, trying not to cringe.
If Vito could see me now, he’d lock up my barely-covered butt indefinitely.
***
I slid out of the cab onto my three-inch stiletto heels and clicked and clacked my way across the pavement to The Coliseum’s front door—it was a wonder I didn’t fall flat on my face.
A man in a faded pair of jeans and an old black T-shirt opened the door for me. I could feel his dark eyes grazing over me from head to toe, leaving a slimy feeling all over my body. I paused just inside the door, though I took a step to the right to escape the slimy guy’s line of sight.
The Coliseum wasn’t like Onyx, which looked like the local nightlife hangout for the rich and famous. This club looked more like a hangout for Wall Street’s rejects. Men in wrinkled suits with their hair mussed and their ties undone. The few women I saw didn’t look like they spent much time in the financial district, though. They looked like me, with clothes too tight and makeup overdone—which was fine. I wasn’t judging. It just made me wonder how the heck I was going to stand out among the crowd of them.
Steeling my shoulders, I tucked my purse beneath my arm, made my way across the room to the bar, and sat down a few stools away from the Wall Street rejects. The bartender was tall, dark, and handsome, but there was nothing intuitive in his gaze, nothing like the bartender at Onyx. This guy’s gaze was just slimy. It seemed to be the overarching theme here.
“What can I get for you,signorina?” he asked.
“A—”
“Top-shelf scotch for the lady, Edoardo,” a man’s voice spoke from behind me.
I hadn’t even heard him approach.
I turned around to find out which one of the Wall Street rejects was trying to buy me a drink. But this was no reject. Well-dressed, relatively muscular. The lines etched around his eyes and mouth were deeper than they’d appeared in pictures.
“Buongiorno, signorina,” he greeted me, sliding onto the stool next to me.
“Buongiorno,” I replied, desperately trying to call up my inner-Greta, but she wasn’t answering the call today.
My dress felt like it was clinging to my skin uncomfortably, the interior fabric a matted mess from my body sweat.
Edoardo placed two glasses down in front of us, each filled a third-full of amber liquid. I nodded graciously and took a sip, but I had a feeling hard liquor wasn’t going to help me here. I steeled my shoulders and cleared my mind.Thiswas the man Greta had heard knew all that went on in the state. She’d also heard he was as wily as a fox.
“What brings you to my little club?” he asked after taking a healthy swig of his own drink.
It was showtime.
“Youdid,SignorBelemonte,” I crooned, hoping it didn’t come out as awkward as it felt.
“Oh?” he said, quirking his brows. His eyes darted down to my breasts, which were nearly overflowing the dress. “I can’t say I’m disappointed to hear that. What is it I can do for you?”
