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Nepotism at its finest.
Today was one of those nine times, and I’d gotten the message that I was on my own only an hour ago.
We’d already planned for it—I would be stupid not to with a partner like Simmons—but it didn’t make it any more palatable.
Neither did the difference in the way the FBI treated me compared to Simmons. My boss Wilks told me time and time again that he thought of me as a daughter, yet he'd given the order for me to go undercover with my real name.
Ariana De Luca.
Worse, he’d recruited me, so only he knew what my last name really meant.
That I was one of those De Lucas.
I pushed the betrayal aside and tried to focus on my goal. Armed with a killer little black dress, nude Louboutins, and my padded resume, I entered L’Oscurità to…
Well, I actually didn’t know.
Most of being a legend required winging it, but I at least expected to flirt, seduce, or show off my way into a bartending job here—despite every instinct of mine screaming at me to turn and leave if I valued my life.
A buzz hummed in the atmosphere at L’Oscurità, sending a dark thrill down my spine.
The midnight-black brick wall split the restaurant in two—a fancy high dining restaurant with a year-long waiting list in the front and a low-key, dimly-lit bar hidden in the back.
The walled-off restaurant gave no indication of its affiliation with the bar. In fact, no sign hung above the bar entrance.
There didn’t need to be.
If you didn’t know where it was, you probably wouldn’t get in anyway.
“Can I help you?” A woman approached me and ran her eyes down my body, myriad emotions flying across her face before she settled with disdain.
Jealousy did fickle things to people. It also happened to be the reaction I usually elicited from women.
Just like your mom, Aunt Nadia had never failed to remind me. Like a siren, always drawing attention. Good and bad.
I swiped a hand at the mess of honey-brown waves that reached the curve of my waist—my natural hair color for once—and tucked a loose lock behind my ear.
I could barely breathe with a tight bandage dress wrapped around my curves.
Her eyes dipped down to my long legs, traveled to the generous swells of my breasts, and settled on the pop of my blue-green eyes past the smoky eyeshadow.
Very rarely did I look out of place unless I wanted to.
Perks of being a legend.
It took her a few seconds too long to nod at the resume clutched in my hand and say, “There’s no job available.”
I slid the resume into my bag and studied the woman, my silence clearly making her uncomfortable.
Though she didn’t wear a name tag, I knew everything I needed to know about Dana Till from the files I’d been given. She worked as a server on this side of L’Oscurità and dated Bastiano Romano a while back.
He managed the restaurant and, as the nephew of Frankie Romano, the head of the Romano family, boasted deep ties to the Italian mafia.
Without a doubt, if Dana already didn't like me, she most definitely wouldn’t like me when I got a job here. So, I matched her stare, the disdain coming readily to me, and brushed past her.
She was harmless, a minnow in a room full of sharks, and I hadn’t the time nor inclination to deal with pests.
Given her visceral reaction to me, her history with Bastiano “Bastian” Romano, and the fact that she saw me as a threat in the first place, I knew without a doubt that her ex held my ticket into this place.
