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They don’t reply.
I wipe my hands and my eyes go to my purse where the stone is to make sure it’s still there. I walk out, plaster a smile on my face, then freeze when I see who it is.
“Hello, my Tesoro,” the man from last night says a deep, rustic timbre that has warmth spreading in my belly.
He peers out the window and grabs the lock, turning the deadbolt. The slide of the lock is loud, echoing in the empty store. The two men with him close the blinds to the large windows that allow me to see most of the street and people walking by. The sun is blocked and no longer seeping through the glass and onto the floor. The store darkens and the two men stand, hands clasped in front of them while the man from last night walks forward.
One of his guards looks a lot like him, but the man coming toward me with powerful, determined strides holds an air of power the other doesn’t.
Holy shit, the Bianchi family has found me to finish the job.
“My shoulder hurts from the little stunt you pulled last night,” he informs me, patting the spot on his shoulder where I flung the knife.
Honestly, I didn’t expect the damn thing to stick. I’ve never thrown a knife before. That was luck…or misfortune at this point. I’m not sure.
“You weren’t too hard to find, Rosie O’Connor.”
I swallow, a cold sweat breaking out over my entire body. I grip the counter to stabilize my balance and do my best not to look absolutely terrified.
“If I can find you, so can Bianchi. You’re lucky, not many people saw you last night.” He picks up a bag of flour, inspecting it before setting it back down. “Quite a little ruckus you caused last night. I covered for you though. Don’t worry.” He takes another step forward and my traitorous eyes travel down his body.
I can’t help but admire how good he looks in a suit. The midnight blue blazer stretches over his broad shoulders and the onyx black shirt pairs well against the olive hue of his skin. It’s tailored to his body, crisp and clean with no wrinkles.
He’s beautiful.
Dangerously, beautiful.
“How? Why?” I’m finally able to move my tongue to speak.
“I think we can be beneficial to one another, Rosie.” He takes another step forward, his shadow falling over me, and I have to tilt my head back to look at him. His golden-brown eyes are intense, pulling into my soul for me to obey him.
I’ve never been the one to obey, but I will admit I need help and I’m willing to listen.
“So you turned your back on Bianchi? Are you insane? I don’t know how that helps either of us. He is one of the most powerful people in the city.”
One of the guards chuckles and the man in front of me smirks - a cocky, sure-of-himself smirk. He holds up two fingers and pinches them together until there is a small space between them.
“Oneof them,” he corrects and reminds me. “I am the other powerful man in the city.” He holds out his wide hand with long, thick fingers. “Aristide Milazzo. You may call me Ari.”
“Milazzo,” I whisper, completely horrified. Everyone knows the Milazzos. I knew recently that Milazzo changed leaders from one brother to the next, but it happened so recently, no one knows the new brother that well. “You’re more established than Bianchi. You’re—”
“—Absolutely terrifying. So it would be in your best interest to speak to me regarding your situation. Bianchi is bad but I’m so much worse, Tesoro. Are you willing to hear what I want?”
“Let’s hear it.” I know whatever it is, I won’t like it. Men like him don’t usually give amazing opportunities without a catch. If there is one thing I know about the Milazzos, it’s that there’s always a catch.
His eyes drift over my face as if he is trying to memorize my features so he never forgets. “I was at the club last night because I made a deal with Bianchi that I’d keep my ear to the ground about this stolen gem. Here’s what I think…” He leans an elbow against the counter. “It was your brother that stole the gem in hopes you and your family can get back on your feet. You’re in a lot of debt and the store is failing. You aren’t making enough money to even stay afloat.”
“Fuck you,” I spit, suddenly furious he’d dive into my personal history without permission. “That is none of your business.”
He grips my wrist and pulls me across the counter until my face is inches away from his. “Everything about you from this moment on is my business,” he grits, his eyes falling to my lips.
I try to pull away from him, but his hold on me is stronger.
“If only I had another knife,” I seethe, my gaze casting to his devilish lips.
He is everything I desire in a man and everything I despise.
His rough stubble is a shadow on his cheek, and I imagine how it would feel between my thighs, rubbing against me while he lowered himself down my body.
