Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“Not famous,” I told her. Notorious was more like it.
She waved a hand at me. “Today you don’t look like a lawyer or business man by the way.”
“What do I look like then?”
A light blushed traveled up her throat. She gave a delicate shrug before she headed back behind the bar, then hesitated again, mustering my arms that I had propped up on the bar. “Perhaps you can help me get a few beer crates from the basement. I doubt Roger wants to do it, and I don’t think I’m strong enough. You look like you can carry two or three without breaking a sweat.”
She turned and walked over to the swing door, leading to the back, then threw a look over her shoulder to see if I was following.
I set down my glass on the counter and rose, curious. She seemed completely unaware of what I was. And I didn’t mean my rank in the mob. People were usually uneasy around me, even without seeing my tattoo. She wasn’t a good actress and I would have sensed fear if she harbored any. I followed her to the back and then the long staircase down into the storage. I knew the place. I’d used it for a couple more intense conversations with debtors. The door fell shut behind us. A flicker of suspicion shot through me. Nobody could be that trusting. Was this a set up? But that would have been equally stupid.
She searched the back of the room. She never once looked over her shoulder to see what I was doing. Too trusting. Too innocent.
“Ah, here they are,” she said, pointing at a couple of beer crates. She looked over to me, then frowned. “Is something wrong?”
She sounded concerned. For fuck’s sake. She sounded concerned for me. Every other girl in Vegas, and every man as well, would have shit themselves if they were in a soundproof basement alone with me. I wanted to shake some sense into her.
I strode towards her and picked up three crates. As I straightened I caught a whiff of her sweet scent. Fuck.
She smiled up at me. She wore close to no make-up, only enough to highlight her natural beauty. She touched the soft dusting of freckles on her cheek sheepishly. “Do I have something on my face?” she asked with an embarrassed laugh. I could tell she was self-conscious about her freckles. But fuck me, I liked them.
“No,” I said.
“Oh, okay,” she said. She searched my eyes, brows drawing together. Don’t try to look behind that mask, girl. You won’t like it. “We should probably go back upstairs. I’m not supposed to let the bar unattended for so long.”
Had she seen something in my gaze that had finally put a healthy dose of fear into her? The way she held the door open for me with that same unsuspecting expression, I feared not.
I nodded toward the stairs. “Go ahead.” She hesitated, then walked in front of me. Perhaps she thought I wanted to get a good look at her ass, but not only was her dress making that impossible, but I hated having people behind me.
We strode through the narrow corridor when the door to the main area opened and Roger and Stefano came through.
Both of them looked dismayed at seeing me with the girl. Her face shifted into one of unease at the sight of Stefano, which made me curious. He looked like any mother-in-law’s dream and his charm was the Camorra’s best weapon when it came to luring women into our whorehouses after all.
“Fabiano, can I have a word with you?” Roger asked, his eyes scanning the girl, probably looking for a sign that I’d assaulted her in the storage room. But Stefano, too, was giving me a contemplating look. “Go back to work, Leona.”
Leona. So that was her name. She hadn’t struck me as a lioness. Perhaps there was more to her.
She hadn’t moved despite Roger’s order. Her eyes were on me. I nodded. “Go ahead,” I told her. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
She left and to my utter annoyance, Stefano decided to go after her. Back off, fucker.
He’d definitely set his sights on her. Why was he even considering her for one of our whorehouses? She really didn’t look the type.
“I know you handle things however you want but recently I’ve lost too many waitresses to the Camorra’s whorehouses or unfortunate accidents.”
Those accidents were mostly related to Remo’s soldiers acting up.
“I’m glad to have that new girl. The customers seem to like her and she actually knows how to behave herself. I’d appreciate it if she would stay in my service for more than a couple of weeks.”
“We handle things however we want, you said it, Roger,” I said in warning. “If we decide to put her to use in one of our other establishments, we don’t ask you.”