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I’m barely back inside when a text comes through from Milos.
Doyou really need to go out for dinner? Can’t you stay home?
At first I’m stung,then I’m pissed.
I have been homefor more than a week. I stay home all the damn time. I want the best gnocchi in Chicago and that’s at Dominic’s club. You’re the one who won’t let me go without someone. I am more than happy to go by myself.
Deep downI’m hoping he’ll call me. Tell me I’m to have dinner with him, something, anything but this silence. My heart sinks when I read the response.
You will not goby yourself. Your security will be there within fifteen minutes.
That’s it?I curl into a ball on the couch. A marriage built on respect and the fact he wants to fuck me. Yet it doesn’t seem like he even wants to fuck me, when it’s been an entire week since he saw me.
By the time the honk comes from outside I’m seething.
I’m let into Dominic’s club with a smile. Neither Regina nor Christy are here for dinner. Luca, Tony’s newly found son, is in from Vegas for a visit.
My new guard who is glued to my hip is Michael. And he’s chatty. He eats with me at my table—something Peter never would have done. He’s only a few years older than me, but he’s been working for Milos since he was sixteen. I’m told he thought Milos would never get married, and that no offense, I’m cute but not beautiful like he thought the woman Milos married would be. I have no idea if he doesn’t see me roll my eyes or isn’t paying attention when I mutter, “Really?”
“Oh yeah, gorgeous women line up to be with him. When he’s at the club they beg for him to use them.” He sips deeply on the vodka he ordered.
“What club?” I knew he had a restaurant and grocery store, but I hadn’t heard about a club.
“Aleksander’s club. It’s where Aleksander runs gambling out of, poker games, craps, that kind of thing upstairs in the VIP area. Downstairs is the dancing and bar where women are constantly asking for Milos, Aleksander, and Nikita.”
I have no idea where the words come from. “I want to go to the club.”
“Finally, I love that place. I haven’t been in weeks.” He nods enthusiastically.
“Take me home so I can change,” I order him.
Fuck Milos and him telling me where I can go and what I can do.
At home, I take off the camisole and put the sheer black blouse on again, tying the bottom into a knot. Looking in the mirror, I swallow hard at how my black lace bra shows through the blouse. I don’t have any skirts short enough, so I grab a black ankle length and cut it to several inches above my knees.
A half hour later Michael is walking me into the loud, packed club. I’ve heard of this place but never imagined coming here.
Michael grabs my hand. “Let’s hit the dance floor.”
Stomach churning, hands sweating, I follow him. I’ve never been in a club before. The only place I’ve danced is at home with my sister. It doesn’t make sense that a glass appears in my hand, where did it come from? I sip deep, it looks like water with lime. Holy crap, that is not water. I’m not sure if it’s vodka or gin, but it’s like swallowing gasoline. Almost immediately it hits my bloodstream.
Lost in the music, I startle when Michael puts his hands on my hips. I try to push him away. He gets annoyed, and his hands slide around my waist, bringing me back up against him.
I put my hands on his chest and push. The fucker doesn’t budge. Shit, shit, shit. Thank you Nonna for all your lessons. Pulling my hand back as far as I can, I bring my weight forward as I send the heel of my palm up under his chin—hard. It’s enough of a shock to him that he lets me go. I stumble back into something hard.
A hand comes around my waist, pressing flat on my stomach, and the shock hits me instantly. No, it can’t be, but I inhale—Milos. His lips are at my ear. “I warned you, Celia.”
He tosses me over his shoulder. I watch as the man who’s taken over as Milos’s guard pulls a smaller gun—a .22—and points the weapon at Michael. No, I squeeze my eyes closed. A .22 is the gun of choice for up close killing, less blood splatter and mess to clean up. Even though the .22 is smaller, it didn’t mean it wasn’t lethal. A few people scatter, one woman screams, but I don’t hear the gunshots over the pounding music. I just see Michael fall to the floor with blood spreading across his white shirt. By the time we reach the door the dance floor is already full again. Another Saturday night in Chicago.
I’m tossed into the back of the SUV. Milos slams the door then rounds the front to get in beside me.
He’s vibrating with rage. “Seat belt.” The word comes out from between clenched teeth.
Hand trembling, I fumble with the seat belt. Milos takes it from my hand and fastens it. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Did youreallyhave to kill him?”
Tears fall faster than I can wipe them, splashing down on his hands. Catching my chin, he brings my face up to his. I can barely see him in the dark even though the lights of the city are bright all around us.
Letting me go, he settles into his own seat. “Tell me, Celia.” My name stings. “If I make it clear to everyone, not just my men but the men I do business with, that no one is allowed to touch my woman and someone does and I do nothing about it…how does that make me look? Hm? What would those men I threatened with death think if I did nothing?”
