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No mention of how incredible last night was or how it will fuel my wet dreams for the foreseeable future. Not bringing up how we both woke twice more throughout the night to explore each other's bodies further or how her breathless whispers in Italian are seared into my brain along with her rare smile.
Just seven perfectly professional words.
Hell no. After getting that brief taste of what it's like to be with Giulia when she's not holding back, no way am I going to let her pretend like a seven-word text will cut it.
I throw off the blankets and march to the bathroom, showering as I grow more irritated and grinding my teeth while I finish getting ready.
I’d like to think that I'm getting better at reading my little mafioso, and I already suspect what went through her gorgeous head when she woke up earlier. She would have immediately decided she wanted her carefully constructed control back. She probably told herself it was just a one-time thing—just one drink, just one night, she'd told me.
Fuck that.
I was there with her last night when she finally took down her guard long enough to enjoy herself. I saw how badly she wanted to just relax for once and how she realized she could do that with me. We’d both enjoyed it far more than either of us could have anticipated—and I'd anticipated a lot since I'd thought about her so much after her threats that first night I saw her.
I’d bet the businesses I own that she will shut down any attempts I make at bringing up last night. She’ll keep me at a careful distance again and pretend the chemistry between us isn’t off the charts.
If she thinks that will fly, Giulia Russo has another thing coming. I don’t care how important this contact is—
I force myself to take a deep breath, rolling my shoulders back and rubbing my scarred knuckles. No, I do care. I don’t want to scare off Giulia by acting out, and I promised her that if she danced with me, I'd be on my best behavior. This was the deal I proposed, not her.
So if she wants to play it cool and collected today and act like nothing happened? So be it. I can play by the rules and still find a way to get under her skin.
Get ready to dance some more, Bellissima.
I've pulled myself together by the time I arrive at the underground parking garage that houses the highly secure entrance to the private room where this contact meets. I left the hotel and stopped by my penthouse apartment for one of my favorite tailored business suits, and I opted to bring the Porsche instead of the Volvo. I'm composed to the point that I could probably give Giulia a run for her money. In fact, I’m somewhat hoping to see her at least a little frazzled from our night out.
And then I see her with the contact.
She's dressed in a tasteful dark gray business suit, the skirt barely shorter than average to show off her long, toned legs. Her dark hair is up today, curls framing her face perfectly as she laughs breezily at something the guy says.
Giulia is fucking perfection, and she's giving him all of her attention. I must take a deep breath because I can see this skeeze’s eyes taking every inch of her.
Logically, I know Keller Frederick isn't an actual skeeze. He's as loyal to his sled dogs are to their driver. He's also one of the Giovanni family's top contacts for this sort of thing—a powerful drug lord with dealers as far as Las Vegas and his own extensive, admirable underground network all under his thumb. I've worked with him enough to know that he's a boon to my family and that losing his interest inVitalenwould be a massive hit to what we’re trying to accomplish.
This is why I ignore how he winks at myBellissima, all smiles as I approach.
"Frederick. I see Giulia here is wrapping you around her little finger."
"Ah, there's Mr. Pretty Boy," he laughs.
He's always called me that. No idea why. I hardly try to protect my face in a fight, and it shows—I’ve had small scars visible since I was a kid first learning to throw a good punch. Maybe he thinks the nickname bothers me, or more likely, it's an affectionate title. Either way, I grin at him, not offering a handshake because I know he dislikes those.
I also see that Giulia is carefully only looking at Keller as if she couldn't care less about the nickname. She's detached but polite, offering me a mere nod. After themanydirty things I did with her last night, it's almost laughable. God, I want to break that composure again.
But today, I must prove I can keep my promise to her. So I’ll be good…. for now.
"Haven't seen you in a while," the kingpin adds, addressing me. "Started to wonder if you'd gotten in one too many fights." He raises his bushy brows and points between us. "And a Russo and a Giovanni together on this one, huh? Never thought I'd live to see the day. Should I be worried about you two spilling blood in my office? Just want a heads up since I'm still getting stains out of the carpet from a deal that went south last week."
He probably means it as a subtle warning, a tiny power play. Giulia laughs lightly. It sounds completely genuine, like she’s really amused. I narrow my eyes at her.
"You're right, bloodstains in the carpet are quite the nuisance—though personally, I find wallpaper the worst to clean. It always stains so much deeper." She smiles with the exact right amount of knowledge and charm. "You don’t have to worry about our old feud getting in the way of your future cut of the profits, Mr. Frederick. I give you my word as a Russo.”
He raises an eyebrow, nods, and then turns to me. "I take it you'll throw in the Giovanni family's word, too, Pretty Boy?"
"Come on, Frederick. You know I prefer action over words. But you have my promise that I wouldn't hurt a hair on this Russo's pretty head."
I smile innocently when she looks me over coldly. Keller seems satisfied with our assurance and leads us through a heavily secured hallway with biometric locks until we get to a quiet, tasteful meeting room with no windows. We sit across from him at an ornate little table, and when he offers a couple of cigars, I look at Giulia quickly, worried she'll turn him down. Keller likes working with people who are relaxed and indulgent—people he can smoke with—and I doubt she’s the type to get in on that.
To my surprise, she accepts it with a bright smile and thanks him when he lights it.
