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I eye her, hiding a grin. “Marco can never know.” She gets a little tense at the mention of his name, only to bat her eyes at me, keeping me on my toes.
“You scared of him?” she eggs me.
“Don’t be a brat. I’m deadly serious,” my voice lowers, and she tenses again.
“Okay, jeez. Just messing around.”
“No messing. Not with this. Understand?” We get to the bar, and I knock all my rings on the wood in finality. “Hey, kid. I’m not fond of repeating myself.” I knock again. “Do we understand one another?”
“Alright. Yes, I understand.”
“Good,” I soften my voice and lean over the bar. “Now listen, I know a lot of these men will be disappointed, but you don’t have to work anymore tonight.”
Her face contorts in anger, looking like she wants to slap me. Why? I’m being nice.
“I’m not a damn prostitute, Castor.”
My hands go up innocently as I hide my smirk. Guess I never thought of it that way. “I wouldn’t be able to afford you if you were.”
Her expression softens. “I don’t know whether to slap you across the face or try to grab you again.”
Blood rushes to my cock like a river. Every part of me wants to whisk her away to somewhere private, but I can’t. Marco…
“How about I buy you a drink instead, and we forget how I almost paid you for a taste.”
“I’m working, Castor.” She lifts the plate now full of drinks. “Out of my way.”
I turn around as she walks away, leaning both my elbows on the bar. I’m careful not to stare too hard at her ass swaying back and forth in those heels. Gia Castellano. Who would’ve thought?
The rest of the show is a success. No hiccups, no fights, just a bunch of hardworking crooked men escorting their dates off the stage and onto the next stage of the night. I don’t think I ever saw Billy Chops so happy in his life. He’s a short, balding man with thick glasses, but the Russian he won a date with seems all about him – clinging onto his arm, kissing him on the cheek. It’s a good sight.
I hold up my drink to the winners as they stroll by, and accept their thanks since I organized the whole bit. Well, funded, rather. My people organized it.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been eyeing Gia all night, but my better judgement tells me not to wait for her. Walk out with the crowd. Play it safe. There’s no telling who would start talking if I made it any more obvious than I had at the beginning of the night. Here’s to hoping alcohol erases suspicion.
When turning my back to her, I can’t help but think of how perfectly warm her pussy felt on my fingers. Glimpsing her face trying to hide the pleasure, it tortures me in a way my mind can’t handle.
Gotta keep this a secret… I’ll just leave it as a passing itch we both scratched. Nothing more.
Among the crowd of blazers, I find one that’s a little off-style. The Russian.
“Yuri.” I pat him on the back. “Happy to see you and Miss Jersey are getting along so well.”
“Hi, Castor.” She wiggles her fingers at me, and Yuri turns with a wide smile on his face.
Before he can say anything, I offer my hand with a returned smile to dispel any notions of disrespect. We understand each other. I’m here for business. His platinum rings click against my gold ones.
“I’ll give it to you, Bullion. You and your boys know how to throw a party.” His cackle rumbles like a motorboat. “At mine, we’re slurring from all the vodka before the girls even get there.”
“We’re just matchmakers at heart,” I say smoothly. “Hope to see you again.”
Leaving on a good note is the best I could hope for. It’s a small seed. No hard negotiations, no politics. Not yet.
He expects me to be aggressive because of my reputation, so I have to play him slow.
We all gather outside Bingo Bangos, chatting under the awning at three-thirty in the morning. My crew is loud and sloshed up. That’s alright, though. They deserve it. It’s been a long week of close calls. But they pulled through. Four jobs and three million profit later, we’re all still here.
The waitresses exit together, and to my surprise, I’m not the only one waiting for Gia. Mimmo Acosta – that horse-faced fuck.
