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My lips find each other instantly, pressing down firmly as I growl under my breath. My fight senses taking over. I roll my shoulders back, feigning confidence I usually have but which seems to elude me every time I am around this man.
“You need to leave,” I say sternly, taking a few steps away from him. I want no part of being in any way associated with the mob.
He makes no move to leave.
“I am a lawyer, for Christ’s sake! I work to put people like you behind bars! I can lose my license just from being in your presence!” My voice gets higher in pitch and more panicked the more I talk. “I can’t believe you are here in my apartment! Oh my God. Have you spiked my coffee? Are you going to kidnap me? I’m too heavy to kidnap. You won’t be able to carry me. Me as a dead weight would be even worse... You could totally put your back out, maybe really hurt yourself. Yeah, you would most certainly need backup. Shit, do you have backup? Are there more men waiting outside?” I can barely catch my breath as I pace back and forth before him.
This is what happens to me when I am pushed too far or caught off guard, I ramble. It is a good quality to have in the court of law, I can pull many things out of my hat of awkwardness and it is often worked in my advantage. But right here, right now, I have a case of verbal diarrhea and no idea how to stop it. He stands at seeing my obvious distress, pushing in the chair he was sitting on, leaving no trace of him being here. I suppose my nerves worked in my favor this time. Annoy the man until he leaves me alone.
“You have until Friday, Miss Cole. Think about it. You are losing clients each day, and I know your assistant, Cindy, is saving her money for her wedding anniversary trip to Europe. Her heart will break if she loses her job because you can’t afford to keep her.”
Nico has obviously done his homework and knows exactly where to hit to make it hurt. He heads toward my door, strolling like he has all the time in the world.
“Why?” I ask to his back, and he stops and turns to face me. “Why me?”
“Because you’re the best,” he says before giving me a smile walking out my door.
What the hell just happened?
I rub my face with my hands, trying to wake myself up, hoping it is all a bad dream, but as my vision returns, I’m still standing in the middle of my apartment, wearing my sweatshirt that barely covers my ass, staring at a cup of coffee I didn’t make myself.
“Emi, Emi, Emi...” I quietly scold myself, not liking how out of sorts this man makes me feel. I rub my face again, because… this can’t be happening.
I walk back to my bedroom, and as I do, I catch myself in my standing mirror and gasp. I look like I have put my finger in the electrical outlet. My hair is everywhere, looking much worse than I thought. Stepping closer, I see lines along my cheek where I obviously laid on my crumpled sheets for too long, and mascara under my eyes as I suspected.
What am I going to do? He isn’t wrong, my business is going down the toilet. Rapidly. And I don’t want to lose Cindy or impact the once-in-a-lifetime holiday she has been planning for close to a year. But he is a freaking mobster! I can’t work with him. I can’t even be seen with him. If I am, then I can kiss my career goodbye for good. Literally the only thing I have in my life. The only thing I have focused on for years.
Without it, I don’t even know who I am.
5
NICO
Istand in her office, admiring the view. It’s not bad; you can see most of the streetscape below, and the windows let in a lot of light as the sun rises over the dark New York skyline. My eyes flick to her desk. It is neat, with nothing out of place. Pristine. Much like her apartment.
As I move around, I notice her filing drawers are locked—smart girl—her computer is not here at all, and there are no photos or keepsakes anywhere to give me any further insight into the woman who now has to be the center of my attention.
I bite my lips as I try not to laugh at the memory of her walking out of her bedroom early Saturday morning, still half asleep. The vision of her messy hair and fire in her eyes, her long, smooth, tan legs, with her soft pink painted toes now firmly ingrained in my mind. She has great fucking legs. The kind I know would look amazing wrapped around my waist. She looks like a bambolina; short, blonde, with pouty pink lips and a sharp mouth, the complete opposite to any of the Italian women my sister tries to set me up with.
Hearing a familiar chime, I know it is her arriving to work. The elevator giving her away. Her coffee with cream already waits on her desk, still hot as the steam rises from the cup. It matches the steam coming from her ears as she stops abruptly as she spots me in her office again.
“Again?! What are you doing here on Monday morning? You said I had until Friday!” she screeches out, and I smirk.
“I am eager to start our arrangement.” It is not entirely untrue, because if she can start on the work I have for her sooner, that would be even better. But I only came here today to get another chance to see her, push her a bit more. I enjoy teasing her. It’s very entertaining.
“I have not changed my mind, Nico.” She sighs like I am annoying her.
“Ahh, but you will.” I walk around her office, taking in the books in the bookshelves and her certificates, which all shine behind the glass frames on the wall.
“Oh, really? And what makes you think I will?” she asks with a bite, watching me as I saunter around her space, not really afraid of me, yet not trusting me either.
“Because you will have no choice, and I always get what I want. You will come and work for me, Emilia. You know it, and I know it. We might as well start today, but I’ll be generous and not go back on my word. You’ll get the week tothinkabout it.” As soon as I emphasize the word “think,” her eyes light up with rage. My cock twitches at the sight.
“Oh my God! You are so arrogant. Such an asshole! Is this how you do business? Continually harass people until you get your own way?” When her huffed insults and questioning garner no reaction from me, she roughly sets her bag and coat down. Straightening, she crosses her arms over her ample chest, just as she spots the coffee. Then her eyes are back on mine.
“You only have five days now, Emilia. Tick Tock…” I say mockingly, leaving the light threat sitting between us. I respect her confidence in standing her ground, but she will take this deal. She doesn’t have a choice.
“I don’t think so, Nico. I am sure you can find someone else for your illegal activities,” she says, waving her hand around. I rub my mouth with my hand, covering the smirk that is forming. She speaks with her hands a lot, especially when her feathers are ruffled, which I’m taking too much joy in. I wonder where she picked it up. It is a very European mannerism, one that reminds me of my family.
