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He was tall and broad, wearing a stylish dark blue suit. His hair was streaked with silver, and his eyes were dark, maybe brown, but they looked black and intense. When his friend called medoll, the tall man looked so protective. I thought he was going to flip the table over. We shared some steamy eye contact… I think. It’s not like I’ve ever done that before, but it felt significant and hot. It burned. It still burns, and it’s been at least five minutes.
Despite the exhaustion and knowing I should be trying to find forty grand—or fleeing the city to find Dad—I have to get back out there. I’ll still need a job if Mom and I somehow get through this.
When I see another man at the table, I approach, reminding myself to stay calm. Each step I take closer to the table sends more and more warm tingles thrumming through my body. The silver-haired man looks up. His dark eyes fixate on me again. It’s difficult to tell if he’s angry or… something else. The third man turns. When he spots me, his eyes snap open widely. Then he smirks.
I stare at him. I wonder, am I being paranoid? Those eyes. Those green eyes. They look so similar to the ones that stared from the balaclava last night. But that would be way too cruel, the universe throwing us together so soon. Or maybe it’s not a coincidence? Perhaps he came here because he knows I work here and wants to intimidate me.
“Scarlet,” the man says as I get closer.
I’m wearing a name badge, so this doesn’t mean anything except that he can read—big whoop.
“What a lovely name,” he goes on.
The silver-haired man flinches. I wonder why. I wonder if he cares, but he’s so much older. He’s handsome. He’shot. His suit probably costs more than our apartment.
“Th-thank you,” I say, trying to lock last night away, the argument, the threats. “Are you ready to order?”
“We’ve been ready for a while now,” the green-eyed man says, glaring at me.
“Don’t worry,” the silver-haired man says, his voice deep and reassuring. It’s a voice I can imagine whispering me awake on a lazy Sunday morning, his warm body pressed against mine, song notes of lust and love, and… Jeez, I need to quit this. It must be the lack of sleep. I’m reading way too much into this. “My friend doesn’t mean to be so rude. He’s forgotten his manners.”
The man waves a hand. “Bring us some whiskey and some steaks.”
“Any particular brand of whiskey? And how would you like your steaks cooked?”
“Do we need to fill out a questionnaire, Scarlet?” the man says, then laughs like nothing funnier has ever been said.
“Medium-rare,” the silver-haired man—myman—says.
The other two give me their preferences, and then I walk across the restaurant, wanting so badly to look over my shoulder to see if he’s watching me. I’ve never wondered or cared if boys are looking at me before. Is that the difference? This isn’t aboy. He’s aman, but I think it’s more than that. It’s like something in him is singing to something inside me.
After giving the order to the kitchen, my colleague pulls me aside. Terri is a tall woman with a shaved head and freckles scattered across her cheeks. “Do you know who you just served?” she asks.
“No, should I?”
“The bigger one, the older one, that’s Elio Marino. The other one is his brother, Luca. You’ve heard of the Marinos, right?”
I shake my head. “Should I have?”
“The Marino Crime Family? You’ve really never heard of them?”
“They’re a crime family? What, like the mafia?”
“Notlikethe mafia,” she says. “Theyarethe mafia. I thought I should give you a heads-up, just in case of… Well, I’m not sure what. Just be aware, okay?”
Elio Marino… I repeat his name in my mind, and then cogs start turning in my thoughts. Maybe I imagined the protective tone in his voice and the steamy, kind way he was looking at me, but it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?
Before returning to the restaurant, I quickly scribble a note on the order pad. A vicious voice whispers that this is a mistake, just as misguided as Dad’s get-rich-quick schemes. However, my world is one of complete chaos right now. Maybe, just maybe, this can bring some order. What’s the worst that can happen? It’s better than doing nothing and feeling helpless.
With the note tucked in my pants pocket, I get ready. When my chance comes, I’ll have to seize it.
CHAPTER4
Elio
“You really aren’t going to take a drink with me, friend?” Russel says, then knocks back another glass of whiskey. I’ve never been the sort of person to count another man’s drinks, but he’s already wasted.
I can feel Luca getting tense beside me. Russel has asked if I’m going to have a drink three times now. “My brother isn’t much of a drinker,” Luca says. “But don’t worry. You’re not going to outdrink me.”
