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The nerve of that asshole sitting next to me. I couldn’t believe I’d slept with him.What the hell was I thinking?I took a deep breath and attempted to calm down. It didn’t work. I turned to him, vibrating with anger and wishing my gaze alone could shoot fire at the prick. “I didn’t steal anything from you—Max did. Last night was an unfortunate accident, one I regret deeply. If I’d known who you were, I would have stayed far away.”
“But you did know. You had something to do with this Max Caruso guy.”
My mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding, right?” I’d done my research on the Italian-American Mafia, regardless of where their territory was, after my altercation with Ben Amato.Hadn’t Luc figured that out with his impromptu internet search seconds ago?
Luc leaned into me, and I put my hand on his chest and shoved. He didn’t move an inch, and it made me want to punch him. There was nothing but annoying muscle beneath my palm. His body had been mouthwatering the night before, but I still wanted to kick him to the curb.
I did a quick replay of Luc’s reaction to Max at the door—I didn’t think he knew who Max was. “Max Caruso is a Mafia boss. He leads one of the Five Families in Chicago.” My voice rose an octave, reflecting the sheer terror that being in Max’s presence had caused me. “How can you not know that?”
“Why would I? I don’t live in Chicago, and I have nothing to do with the mob.”
I snorted at his stupidity. “Yeah, you do. One of the scary-as-fuck Mafia bosses just showed up at your door and ordered you to Chicago.”
“One thatyoubrought into my life.”
He was so close that the heat of his body infused mine. The crescent-shaped scar on his left cheekbone was even more pronounced. I bared my teeth. I wasn’t scared of him even though I knew virtually nothing about the man. If he truly wanted to hurt me, he would have after I’d slapped him when we were alone in the security office.
“You’re delusional.” I growled then crossed my arms and shifted to angle away from him and toward the window. I did not want to go to Chicago, but it was better than New York, at least sort of. Either way, I was screwed. First chance I had, I was taking off and disappearing. I would need a new name and paperwork to go with it. The tension in my body was causing my head to ache more than it already was, but nothing was as bad as how mad I was at myself for keeping my name. Changing my age hadn’t been enough. Lauralee’s mob-boss boyfriend could still find me, especially in the presence of the Chicago Mafia.
We left the city and headed into a depressing, run-down area of West Adams, California. I’d thought I’d be making a new start from my life in Georgia, but it was the same situation at a different address.
Part of me wished I had taken Luc’s money. Then I would’ve done what I was accused of and could escape poverty—if I could get away from him, which wasn’t likely. At least not yet.
I clenched my teeth, sending another stab of pain radiating along my jaw and straight to my throbbing head. I would not end up like Lauralee, dead before I turned twenty-one.
When the car pulled to a stop at the curb in front of the dilapidated home where I rented a room, Luc reclaimed my hand and tugged me out his door.Neanderthal. I should have said that out loud. “I can go in myself.”
“No,” Luc snapped, leaving no room for arguing.
“Fine.” I tried to yank my hand away, but he kept such a tight grip that I couldn’t break free. “I need to get my key. Let go of me.”
We marched to the door together, him with purpose but my steps reluctant. I raised my chin. I wasn’t embarrassed. I’d lived in worse places.
The front door was unlocked. It usually was. Sheri and Jerome were on a couch that had seen better days, passing a joint back and forth. Jerome nodded in my direction, but I kept going. The others who stayed there had been nice enough, aside from Talia, who was a raging bitch. But she kind of had to be, since she collected the rent.
There was no point in trying to dash out the back door with the couch blocking my path and a man whose stride would eat up mine in a second. Instead, I shouldered my way in front of Luc, and once we were fully inside, he released my hand. I didn’t bother making a run for it.
Paint bubbled and peeled in the far corner of the living room from a leak that had been there for who knew how long, and a damp, musty odor mixed with the pungent, skunky smell of pot. Mold grew somewhere. It couldn’t have been healthy to live there, but it was what I could afford.
I twisted the small black backpack around to get the key to my room from the small zippered front pocket. The lock was so flimsy I probably didn’t need a key at all, but the false security was all I had. After unlocking it, I swung the door wide and braced myself for his judgment, which I did not want, not bothering to look his way. He crowded me in the tiny six-by-eight space that had barely enough room for a single bed and a minuscule closet. I went right to my unzipped duffel, on which I’d neatly lain my secondhand clothes. It was my getaway method. If I had to leave in a hurry, I could just jam them in with one shove and make a break for it without having to lose the small number of belongings I owned.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Luc’s big frame blocking the exit as he leaned against the doorframe, his phone pressed to his ear as he barked into it, “Get me everything you can find on Max Caruso.” I could guess he’d called Becca.
I’d resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t getting away from him, at least not yet. I doubted Max Caruso would want me with when they discussed Luc’s money, so I would find a way to escape then. It would be better at the airport.
I wouldn’t have minded being in another state, either, especially after seeing my face in that damning online picture this morning. I couldn’t believe my bad luck. The chances couldn’t have been that great that a reporter would have been taking a picture of the scene my former boss made with Luc in front of the building, where I happened to be walking into work late. It was ridiculous.
There was a possibility nothing would come of it. But it wasn’t a chance worth taking. Once I got free in Chicago, I was finding someone who could get me a new identity then disappearing—again.
I shoved the clothes inside then zipped it. I slung it over my shoulder along with the purse-sized backpack that never left my presence. I couldn’t stall any longer. I had to face him. I braced myself for his reaction to how I lived, to what little I owned. He was a millionaire. There was no way he could understand my life.
Luc slipped his strong fingers beneath the nylon strap then lifted the duffel from my shoulder. Neither of us said anything, but he didn’t look around the room with disdain and judgment. Instead, the unwavering fury that’d been stamped across his features since he accused me of taking what was his deepened.
“I know you’re not what you’re pretending to be.” His voice growled, filling the room with predatory intent. “Sooner or later, I’ll find out what you’re hiding.”
Not in this lifetime, buddy.
He held my gaze for a few more minutes before doing a visual sweep of the small space. I crossed my arms over my chest, ready for whatever he would say.
