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A swirl of excitement simmers through my veins as I head for the subway downtown. No happy hour for me tonight. I’ll need to prepare for the interview and pretend I haven’t been living in sweats and hiding out in my tiny midtown studio since summer ended.
I sink into an empty seat on the subway car, my mind racing with the possibilities. I should run by Lulu Lemon on the way home and buy something cute. Wouldn’t I do the same for any job interview? Yes, yes, I would. It’s totally worth the extra expense.
Tomorrow will be my lucky day. From the sound of it, the job would pay well, and I’d be surrounded by gorgeous Manhattan socialites. No more mentally unstable losers for me!
I dig through my purse for my wallet and let out a curse as I find the empty credit card slots. Damn it. I’d completely forgotten I’d frozen my only remaining credit card in a block of ice to keep from spending. I stare at my sorry debit card and picture the measly balance. Definitely not enough for a new yoga top and pants.
I hurry off the subway at Grand Central Station and weave through the mass of tourists. I’ll just stop by my place, defrost the damned credit card with my blow dryer and run out before the store closes. I’m totally good.
I’m practically sprinting by the time I reach my building on East 51stStreet. The pungent scent of curry is thick in the air, and my stomach grumbles as I unlock the entrance door. My little apartment is nestled between an amazing Indian restaurant and a twenty-four-hour laundromat. What else could a single girl need?
I race up the stairs to the third floor because the elevator is always broken and let’s be honest, I could use the exercise now that I’ll be rocking a skimpy yoga outfit. As I walk down the narrow corridor, a faint odor fills my nostrils. I glance down the hall and spot something outside my door.
What the hell?
I creep closer, a chill snaking up my spine. I draw in a breath as my heart rams against my ribcage, growing more frantic with each step. A black vase filled with wilted yellow roses leans against my door. A white notecard pokes out of the arrangement, sending fear cascading through every inch of my body.It’s just a note. Pick it up and read it.
The smell of ammonia and rotting garbage reaches my nostrils. I pinch my nose as I bend down and pluck the notecard with trembling fingers. Three words steal the remaining air from my lungs.
Miss me yet?
CHAPTER6
NOTHING BUT TROUBLE
Dante
An odd mix of disinfectant and lavender assaults my nostrils as I barrel through the glass doors of Palestrain the bowels of The Plaza Hotel. The gym has become my sanctuary in the past few weeks, post-recovery. I’d only joined at first to irritate my little brother and find an in with the female socialites of Manhattan, but now, if I didn’t get a workout in first thing in the morning I was frustrated as hell all day. It’s only been four days since I forced Luca on vacation, and already the stress is getting to me.
How did he manage running King Industries by day and the Kings by night? Maybe I’d underestimated myfratellino. The seeds of doubt take hold, the ones sown all those years ago when I was just a teenager. I grit my teeth and keep my head down as I pass the front desk with my duffle bag hitched over my shoulder.
“Excuse me, membership card please?”
I lift my gaze to the brunette in front of the neon Palestra sign, an angry growl ready to erupt. My eyes immediately dart past her, drawn to the familiar blonde standing beside a redhead.
“Rose?”
Her head spins around, and she tucks the clipboard she’s holding to her chest. Her lips thin out, and a hint of guilt creeps into my chest. Walking out on her the other night had been unexpectedly difficult. It had to be because I hadn’t gotten laid in a while, and I was hard up. Yes, had to be that.
Still, I can’t look away from her, or that sexy cropped top, exposing a milky white shoulder and perfectly toned abs. My gaze drifts lower to the tight yoga pants, and my thoughts whirl back to that night. To those legs wrapped around my waist, that hot pussy rubbing against my cock. I squeeze my eyes shut, banishing the heated memories.Not the time,coglione.
The redhead nudges her in the ribs. “Take your time filling out the questionnaire, and I’ll be back for you in a few.” She ticks her head at the seating area in front of the entrance.
“Right, thanks, Ms. Jordan.”
“Please, call me Maisy. Ms. Jordan is my mother, and God help me if I ever turn out like her!”
Rose nods and walks right past me before settling onto the black leather chair.
The cute brunette behind the counter watches the exchange, and I realize I still haven’t shown her my damned membership card. I yank it out of the pocket of my duffle bag and flash it an inch from her nose.
“Oh, Mr. Valentino, I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you.” Her cheeks flush. She probably thinks I’m Luca. Papà’s blood runs strong; our dark hair, Roman noses, and wide jaws are characteristic of the Valentino men. I debate correcting her, but what’s the point of beating a dead horse? Besides, there’s something about Rose’s complete dismissal that has my temper flaring.
Bypassing the girl, I slip into the seat beside Rose and drop my workout bag on the floor at my feet. “You’re not even going to say hi?” I whisper-hiss.
“Oh, sorry, D, I didn’t see you there.” She doesn’t even look up.
“Rosa…” I growl.
