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The son of the mobster we wanted to get away from.
A son who so far had been kind, unlike the other assholes here.
Now I not only had a billionaire heiress who’d adopted me as her new best friend, but I had to survive the place itself…a damn Mafia training camp. A place dad had told the Salvatores could help me learn how to serve them better.
Serve them.
The words stuck in the back of my throat, and sent a shiver coursing through me.
I rolled, and kept rolling, finally climbing out of the mammoth king-sized bed with its luxurious sage green bamboo sheets, and let my feet hit the plush fur rug before leaving it behind for the cold black marble.
Everything here was expensive. Marble, brushed steel, and dark tinted glass were everywhere…but not a damn door in sight. I stepped into the bathroom and stared at the doorway, glancing from one side to the other while the urge in my bladder grew teeth.
“What the hell?” I growled, running my fingers along the jamb. “No damn doors?”
I couldn’t wait any longer, so I ground my teeth and glanced over my shoulder to the open bedroom door. Kat was probably still asleep, and wouldn’t wake for at least another hour. If her reaction to eight AM classes was anything to go by, she wouldn’t even hear me. I hurried to the toilet, yanked down the elastic waist of my PJ’s, and spun, plonking my ass onto the cold seat.
Music started, spilling through the open doorway, something dark and sultry. I hurried to the shower, washed, rinsed, and stepped out, looking at myself in the mirror. Hazel green eyes, lackluster brown hair. I lowered the towel, taking in the smallness of my waist and the gentle flare of my hips before yanking the towel up once more.
Find the contact and leave. It was all pretend, right? Easy. Go to classes, smile and act like I wanted to be here, and wait. Dad didn’t like the plan any more than I did. But the contact had been adamant it had to be here. So, while dad stalled with the Mafia’s money, he made a simple demand, that I come here…where there was protection, and where I could learn how to follow in my father’s footstepsexclusivelyfor them.
But now that I was here, it felt weird.
Kat started singing in the room next door as I hurried to the walk-in closet. I wanted to hate this place. I wanted to hate everything here. But it wasn’t hate that trembled inside me, even after the damn shooting.
Kat was nice, real damn nice, taking me by surprise. And this place was high end, as expensive as I’d ever seen before.
I slid on panties and a bra, then searched for my black denim jeans and the cream top with frills around my neck. Maybe it was too much? I winced. The mental ticking of a clock ultimately made the decision for me.
I sighed, slipped on flat black shoes, and dragged a brush through my still-wet hair. The blast of a hairdryer from Kat’s room made me still. God, I couldn’t go out looking like a drowned rat. I raced for the bathroom, searched the drawers, and found the dryer. Five minutes later I was looking a little better, even with flyaway strands and blotchy skin. I tugged at the frill around my neck. Still overdressed, but it’d have to do.
“Ready?”
I turned at her voice and stopped dead. “You’re wearingthatto class?”
“Like it?” Sheradiatedin the silky green dress that hugged her boobs and was split to mid-thigh.
“You know we’re going to class, right?” I couldn’t stop staring.
She took a step closer. “Only class with some of the hottest, most dangerous Mafia guys in the world.”
Her smile was devilish and I knew right then that she not only wanted to behere…she wanted to be aroundthem,the corrupt, the merciless. That’s what turned her on. “How are we going to be friends?” I questioned, and met her gaze. “We’re total opposites.”
“You know what they say about opposites.” She came closer, perfect blood-red toenails peeking out of black, strappy pumps, and flicked my frilly, high-necked collar as she planted a kiss on my cheek. “Now, let’s go knock 'em dead.”
She spun, heart-stabbingly stunning, and strode away.
I followed her into the elevator and through the automatic doors in the foyer. The sun was already blinding as we stepped out and headed along the walk. I brought up my iPad, glancing her way as I punched in the unlock code. If she saw me watching her, she didn't say anything, instead she focused on chatting. “I mean, I do love Dior, but Chanel just has my heart…you get me, right?”
“Totally,” I muttered, my eyes running over the numbers of the stock exchange. “A door has your heart.”
She stopped suddenly, and I was so absorbed by the numbers, I didn’t realize, not until it was too late. I slammed into her, the iPad crushed between my breasts and hers as she turned. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Sorry,” I muttered. “It’s just…”
“Not your thing, huh?”
My smile this time was genuine. “Yeah.”
