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My men keep watch as I make my way inside and I am met by the maitre d who looks as if he would prefer to have called in sick rather than face this horror show.
“Mr. Majerio. We are honored.”
He almost bows as I glare at him and snap. “Is my table as instructed?”
He nods and grabs a menu, scurrying before me, saying, “Of course, please follow me.”
As I walk through the restaurant, a hush falls on the room courtesy of the curiosity thrown my way by the other diners. As I take my seat behind a pillar with a view to the last remaining table, I note the atmosphere and my heart sinks. Fucking mafia. Each and every one. No wonder the maitre d looks as if he’s about to win a trip to the emergency room.
The terror lingers in the air as every table is filled with men. All in black suits making it appear as if we’re extras for the latest Godfather movie.
I don’t miss the curious stares and guarded expressions of the men as they look my way. They know who I am—what I am, and I wonder what is running through their minds right now. Hell, I’m trying not to think of what’s running through my own mind and so I settle back and snap, “Whiskey, make it a double.”
I can almost sense my grandfather’s disapproval from here and he’s not even made it into the room yet. Fuck a clear head, anyway. I work better with a little Dutch courage inside me.
The clock on the wall reveals we have twenty minutes until showtime and so I settle back and prime myself for a war—a mafia war and this time the stakes are high.
CHAPTER5
WINTER
Massimo is excited. The way he taps his foot and exhales sharply sets me on edge. He is in his element right now. Plotting and scheming another man’s downfall and I’m not shocked when he starts cackling like the evillest wizard.
“This is going to be so much fun.”
He starts rocking back and forth and giggles like a small child.
“I love games, don’t you, Winter? You see, I am a master at chess and your friends are going to find out why.”
“My friends?”
I’m surprised because I understood we were meeting his friend, Portia Symmons.
His head snaps my way, making me regret speaking at all. I spoke outside of a direct question, and he hates that. His eyes narrow and I resign myself to what happens next as he clicks his tongue and says harshly, “Naughty girl, speaking without permission.”
He slams his hand against my mouth and pushes me back against the seat, grabbing my earlobe and twisting it cruelly, causing the tears to well up in my eyes as he inflicts pain on me.
Almost immediately, he releases me and sneers, “Next time I won’t be so kind. Now, what do you say?”
“I’m sorry, my darling, please forgive me.”
He looks at me for a moment as if he’s thinking carefully, and then he unbuckles my seatbelt and says roughly, “On your knees before me.”
Shaking, I do as he asks and as he lays his hand on the top of my head, he whispers, “I forgive you, my child.”
He offers me the back of his hand and I press my lips to it and whisper, “Thank you, my darling.”
He pulls his hand away and tilts my face to his and the triumphant gleam in his eyes makes the nausea rise inside me.
“I will tell you a secret, my darling, because you have pleased me.”
I stare up at him and he grins. “I had word that the restaurant was booked out. There were no spare tables at all, and any previous bookings were canceled and replaced by new ones.”
I continue to stare, and he twists his lips into a grin.
“They believe I’m a fool. Setting a trap they hoped I would walk right into.”
He throws his head back and laughs and says with a dark tone to his voice, “My men are under instructions to wipe out the enemy and replace them. When Portia turns up with her mysterious date, I will have them cornered.”
