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All I need is for someone to give me a chance.
Her words echo around inside my skull. If I’m being perfectly honest, I wasthisclose to giving her the money straight out of my own pocket. I’d rather she owe me than be in Lorenzo's books, but I was too distracted by how gorgeous she looked in that dress. I don’t know the first thing about fashion, and I sure as fuck don’t care about style or clothes, but there’s no questioning her talent.
She looked like a fucking goddess in that sleek black gown. A seductress of the night. I don’t think I’ve ever been more jealous of a dress before. The way the fabric hugged her body, flowed over her curves and accentuated the dip of her waist…
My cock strains against the confines of my pants.
I ignore it because I’m a man capable of self-restraint.
Three sharp knocks sound at the door. Before I have a chance to look up, Milo fucking Palerma waltzes in with a smug grin on his face.
“Dom, my old friend! You’re looking good. Been hitting the gym lately?”
“You missed the last two meetings I called.”
“Ah, classic Dom. Always straight to business.”
“I’m being serious, Milo. You can’t keep slacking like this.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one without a care. “Give me a break, Dom. We never discuss anything important in those meetings. As long as I get my reports in to you, who gives a shit?”
“Igive a shit. Lorenzo expects me to stay on top of things.”
“Yeah, because the boss is too busy pissing away all his money on slots and whores.”
“Careful,” I warn, shooting him a glare. “We’re all entitled to our own vices. As long as he follows orders and doesn’t do anything to piss off the Family, he can do whatever the fuck he wants.”
Milo crosses his arms over his chest, leaning his hip casually against the edge of the desk. “And what about you, Dom? What areyourvices?”
“Did you come here to check in, or are you trying to waste my time?”
“Can’t I spend a little quality time bonding with my dear old friend?”
I squint at him. He’s as subtle as a knife stabbing me straight through the chest. I’ve known Milo long enough to know he hates my guts just as much as I hate his. There’s always an ulterior motive with him. The only question iswhat?
Despite his easy air and annoying personality, there’s a murderer hiding under that smile. I’m not afraid of him, but only in the same way I’m not afraid of a dog until it starts showing off its fangs.
I might be Lorenzo’s earner, but Milo is Lorenzo’s killer. His ledger is at least half a mile longer than my own.
Standing, I gather what little paperwork is scattered over the desk and tuck everything away. “I have places to be, so unless you have anything important to say, I expect to see you the next time I summon you.”
His suspiciously friendly facade finally cracks, his mask slipping for the briefest of seconds. “Summonme? It sounds like someone’s getting a little too comfortable playing head honcho. Don’t get too used to ordering everyone around. I’m sure Lorenzo won’t appreciate it very much when he gets back. You should be careful, old friend.”
I don’t bat an eye. I brush right past him after grabbing my coat off the back of my chair. “Lorenzo knows where my loyalties lie,” I tell him simply. “I don’t think he can say the same for you.”
With a final glance, I leave.
Looks like he’s showing his fangs, after all.
* * *
“Are you sure this is the address, boss?” Elio asks me from the driver’s seat.
I peer out the window and take in our surroundings. Elio’s got the car parked by the curb, but my Maserati still sticks out like a sore thumb. The sidewalks are crowded with street vendors peddling their wares — bootleg DVDs, knockoff designer purses, other more questionable items I can’t identify from where I’m seated — all in front of a small storefront big enough for one dress in the window display.
Marina’s Lil’ Dress Shoppe.
Cute.
