Page 10

9

ADRIANO

I try and fail again to tie my tie.

Not that I hate dressing up, I like to look nice. But…

Doing it to please Dom of all people, to impress his guests and allies?

Pass.

Besides the fact that I suck at tying ties.

“Are you ready to go? The car will be here soon.”

“Almost. Just … fucking tie.”

She’s there in an instant, her fingers wrapping around me from behind. “Here. Let me do it for you.”

“You don’t have to…Thanks.” I concede, sighing softly. “Where’d you learn how?—?”

Standing so close to me it’s impossible for me to tell her to stop.

She’s like a shot of whiskey, immediately making my head spin.

Wish I had a shot right about now.

“I watched my mom tie my stepdad’s tie for years. Not sure why he always wore one. All he ever did was gamble down at the bar.”

“Sounds like a winner,” I scoff, watching her fingers work. It’s soothing, calming. Distracting.

The cool shower and the nap I took right after cleared my head, some. But Gloria’s body, her legs wrapped around my head and then her mouth wrapped around me…

It’s all I can think about between bouts of trying to think of other things.

Probably a good thing that she went out to run some errands while I was showering. I needed to sleep after another all-nighter. And there is only one way the rest of the day would have gone.

So the nap helped, but not enough to prevent my brain going into overdrive as her chest presses up against my back through my shirt and her surreal, teal, sparkling dress. The neckline on that thing…

“Ahem,” she chirps, her eyes in the mirror flicking down to my crotch, swelling through my gray-blue trousers.

“Sorry?” I ask sarcastically.

“Never apologize, but we really need to go, so I really need to tie your tie without dick-stractions.”

“Wow.” I laugh, suppressing a snort. “That pun was breast-taking—I mean?—”

Her giggle is musical, sending shivers all over me.

“Grab your jacket!” Gloria spins, heading toward the door.

“You can if you want,” I call after her, a stupid grin on my face.

“What?”

“Jack-it …”

I barely dodge the couch pillow aimed at my head.

We’re still chuckling, fading off into silence as we slide into the back of the jet-black, shiny Lincoln Dom sent to get us. It leaves me time to think, time for my thoughts to drift as we pull away, heading toward a night of fake smiles and ulterior motives.

Despite the enjoyable humor, and the tension between us, there’s another aspect to all of this that has been eating at me more than the rest.

The fact that I really, really want Gloria. I want this to be real.

To work.

My entire life I’ve had to be tough, deny my needs for those of others. Is it so wrong to want to indulge something of my own?

Added to the fact that all that macho, mob-raised mentality goes flying right out the window whenever I see her. Like I just want to stare at her pretty face.

To grab her and lay one on her.

And then tear both of our clothes off and never leave our bed.

I want her to be the person I met on that train. I need her to be.

But if that’s true, I also need to be the person I was. Is that who I really am?

Is this romantic, foolish, flirty, and cocky side of me just a front? Or is it just a part of me I’ve denied for way too long.

The expanse of the leather seat between us feels like a chasm.

Just when we were starting to get somewhere.

“You sure this works for me?” I tug at the collar of my shirt, the tie.

“Very much so. You look sharp. Powerful.” She bobs her eyebrows once.

“Right. Guess that’s a good thing where we’re going.”

“You don’t want to be careless with my father. He hates it. You know as well as anyone how he likes things.”

“Yeah. Neat and tidy. No loose ends. Even though he tends to run things off-the-cuff most of the time.”

“He would say it keeps his enemies guessing.”

“Right. But we’re not supposed to be enemies,” I say, a little too testily.

“It makes you nuts, huh? His erratic nature. Impulsiveness.”

“It makes me nervous.”

“Me too,” she murmurs, barely audible. “You would have things run smoother. Calmer. Right?”

“Wouldn’t you? We always ran a tight ship. But we, I mean I, gave and gained respect and confidence through consistency with our people. Follow-through. And I made sure my guys felt comfortable enough to be themselves still. To put talents to good use.”

“That’s a good way to run a business.”

“And a family.”

“You know, you can still…” She gestures for me to lean toward her, running her fingers through my hair, tussling it a bit.

Pulling back, I give her an odd look, uncertain.

“This way you can have something the way you like it. The way I like it too.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“How did you know?”

“You run your fingers to your hair like that all the time. I like it. It looks badass.”

“You’re amazing. I mean you look amazing, um, gorgeous.” I didn’t blurt that out. Nope.

Gloria’s smile and her blush make my suit suddenly feel very warm.

“We look very presentable, yes.” She looks out the window.

Somehow, we’ve moved closer together on the seat, much closer.

We sit like that, nearly in each other’s space for several minutes, my mind racing to think of something to say.

Anything instead of sitting here like a fucking schmuck.

“Do you think there’s going to be lots of people there?” I fumble out.

“I guarantee there’s going to be lots of people there tonight.”

“Free booze, right? What’s your favorite?”

“Good question. I used to make them all the time back in Paris. Gin. Lemon. Touch of champagne.”

“French 75?”

“You know it?”

“I may have once considered a career in bartending. Only at our family gatherings, though. My uncle Gio taught me how to make all sorts of things.”

“I may have to have you make me all sorts of things at some point.”

“The bar could use a few new additions at home, for sure. Haven’t really had anyone to make drinks for in a while. Usually, it’s just me and the twins.”

“You rarely talk about them. Your brothers.”

“Not much to say. Too much to tell. Plus, the fact that one of us…” I so wish I could tell her the truth, that Alessandro is alive. That he’s married to an incredible woman. That they’re expecting a child and they’re safe and…

Secret.

“I get that. Like my father and my mother. I don’t dare talk about her with him.”

“Sore subjects, huh?”

“Complicated subjects. I don’t even know how they met. If they were in love, or I was just an accident.” Gloria nibbles her lip, raising her fingernails, her knuckles to her mouth. That habit I’ve seen her do when she’s vulnerable. Nervous.

“The twins were absolutely an accident.” I smile, trying to distract her from darker thoughts.

“Meaning you were left to be the responsible older brother.”

“Once our parents died, yeah. What about you? Any younger siblings, cousins?” I remember her saying she was an only child on the train, but something seems off about that now that I’ve gotten to know her.

That and the fact that she tenses, so subtly that I almost miss it.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” I offer softly. “But you know you can .”

“No. I mean, thank you.”

“No obligation. And no explanation necessary. I know better than anyone that some things in your life are better kept to yourself. Safer that way.”

She inches closer, nodding. Her eyes are locked on the lights of the city swiftly sweeping by. Our fingers brush and I nearly flinch away, unsure until her fingers curl around mine.

“We probably should get used to doing this.” She finally looks at me, sharing a commiserating smile.

“You could talk me into it,” I sniff, draping my arm around her and pulling her close.

She’s soft, warm.

Completely disarming.

“Sir?” our driver interrupts.

My head jerks as I look to my right, the car door open beside me.

When did we stop?

“Right, sorry Vigo.” He simply steps back, holding the door open. The stern fellow nods at me, an indication of respect. Maybe it’s just the fact that I remember his name. I remember all of their names. Every guy that works for me.

“Adriano?” Gloria nudges me.

My heart’s skipping a beat in a mild panic as I snap back to the present, climb out of the car. Turning back, I offer Gloria my hand and she steps out, looking like a dream come true.

And like this is the most normal thing in the world.

While I feel like an imposter, wearing someone else’s clothes, someone else’s body in the glare of the lights out in front of the hotel.

Maybe it’s because it used to be our hotel, the Diamantes.

And Dom’s given it a gaudy makeover.

Or maybe it’s just the goddess on my arm as we take the stairs, flanked on both sides by elegantly dressed heads of state, lawyers, celebrities. And every eye follows us, like we’re the center of attention.

Except that we are.

And Gloria rides it out, preening in the spotlight of every smile and the applause that follows us through the gleaming glass doors. Like she’s done this her entire life.

It drives me just a little nuts the way she does that.

One minute she’s just like him, Dom. The next she’s the complete opposite.

Which one is real?

“Shall we?” I take a breath as we enter the massive, marble-floored foyer.

“Like we have a choice.” Her tone is droll, sarcastic. At least she seems to understand how I feel.

Inside, the stairs sweep up from the auspicious entryway, every surface shimmering, reflecting the chandelier light above. Red carpet, like something out of a 1920s movie, lines the walk, running up the stairs. Everything is gold leaf and crown molding.

And I suddenly feel underdressed in my crisp, gray suit, white shirt, and deep-teal tie, a match for her dress. Everyone else is wearing tuxedos and white coats.

But my discomfort is short-lived.

Because Gloria is the glittering, shining star of the evening.

Her gown lights up in the glow of the elegant beams, vibrant color amongst a sea of black and white, red and gold. She’s the center of the whole fucking universe, as far as I’m concerned.

Time freezes as we pose, waiting in the center of the lobby, turning a circle. I can’t for the life of me wrap my head around what’s going on until?—

Camera’s flash and time starts again.

Ah. Right.

“Smile,” she grits out humorously through clenched teeth and I almost snort a laugh.

“I can’t stand this.” I mumble right back, my mouth barely moving, a fake grin plastered over my face.

“Five more seconds, turn, wave, and we’ll go upstairs.” Gloria tilts her head, and I couldn’t be more thankful for her wherewithal.

Away from the noise and flashing lights, we regroup, nodding to the guests along the upper walkway, heading toward the banquet hall as quickly as we can. Dom will be waiting to see us before we make our grand entrance at the ball.

Even so, I start to notice the inconsistencies, odd guests lingering in corners, sipping drinks in twos and threes, mixed in among the suits.

They’re … gang thugs.

And some of them have no concept of how to dress for an event like this. If they even bothered to get dressed up at all.

Some are decked out in outrageous outfits; others are practically wearing pajamas. Sweatsuits. But they’re decked out in gold jewelry and sunglasses at night.

It makes sense, though.

These are the types of people Dom made promises to. Gangsters and small-time thugs who will do anything, back anyone for the promise of wealth and prestige.

It wouldn’t bother me at all, the contrast or the lack of classist exclusion, if it weren’t for the lack of any of our people, the old blood of the family. Like they don’t matter in the future of the organization.

Maybe they don’t

It’s precisely those dinosaurs who saw my brother dethroned.

And where are they now?

As if in answer, Vito Carlote, one of my uncles and the very same man who stood as the voice of the elders who caved to Dom’s threats and made us “kill” Alessandro, catches my eye, just outside the ballroom. All he manages is a curt nod before turning away and disappearing.

Coward.

The least he could do is face me and own up to his betrayal.

I tense, but the fingers threaded through mine squeeze gently, calming me. Even as we meet Dom just inside, the bastard embracing us like he actually gives a shit. And still, Gloria is there, anchoring me as the night kicks up into a barrage of claps on the back, handshakes, champagne toasts. All devolving into a drunken mess of lewd jokes and backroom handshake deals by midnight.

I wish I could say I kept my shit together.

Eight drinks in and all I can do is nod at the guy across from me, asking me about God-knows-what. It’s easy enough to look interested, nod. Let him do the talking.

Gloria plays the game so much better.

She’s pleasant, ingratiating.

Even when her father brings a never-ending string of well-wishers to meet us, taking the lead and diverting their attention from her very drunk companion.

Sorry, Gloria.

Adriano is out to lunch.

“Mr. Carlote, isn’t it? It’s such a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from my father. The reports coming out of your textile enterprises are outstanding this quarter.”

“Ah, Miss Vipera! As charming as rumor tells and twice as beautiful! Please, call me Vito, or Uncle. We are family, after all.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” I slur bitterly, grinning at him from my seat beside my future bride.

She glances at me sidelong, her fingers pinching my leg and twisting painfully. Through it all, she just smiles sweetly. Traitor.

“Adriano, my nephew. Still the sullen boy you’ve always been, even with such a rare jewel on your arm this evening.” His flat stare hides the ice in his words. It’s a warning to mind myself.

Like we all have to play nice for this world to keep working under Dom.

Well, fuck you too, Vito.

“In regard to the numbers, you are too kind, Gloria. I am a humble man, who just wants to make a fine product, the same as my forefathers.” Vito’s always been so damned diplomatic.

“They would be proud of such humility and of your success, Uncle Vito.”

“You are your father’s daughter indeed, such a smooth talker.” Vito’s eyes twinkle at that, a test and a veiled insult. “Truly a delight to meet you finally. Congratulations on your engagement and your rising star in such a promising administration. Give your father my regards, please.”

Vito shakes her hand again and departs, glancing off toward the rabble of inebriated guests encircling Domenico.

His eyes flick to me for a second, concern clear in his expression. Is that shame? Or simply fear that I’ll retaliate someday.

Yeah. When he least expects it.

And just like that I’m sick and tired of all of it. Wandering around, I snatch another glass of champagne from a passing waiter, then a shot from a group of guys with bottle service. They all cheer me on as I stumble off, the remainder of the bottle tucked under my arm, trying to find a corner to hide in.

By the time I spot Gloria on my way out a side door, I’m feeling pretty damned good.

“You wanna dance, hot stuff?”

“Wow. You are hammered.”

“Nah. I’m just loosened up, finally.” I grin, turning on the charm.

Gloria frowns.

Damn. She must be immune to my wit and charisma.

“Charisma?”

Shit. I said that out loud?

“Come on, just a couple of spins. This is a good song.”

“I think we should go get some water.”

“Water? You need to have another drink!” Dom appears out of nowhere. “Your fiancé told you to dance, you better dance, girl!”

“No one else is dancing,” Gloria snips, glowering at him, then back at me.

“Yeah, they are, at least I saw Tommy Veera’s wife dancing with some dude…” I snicker. Probably shouldn’t be running my mouth. Acting a fool.

Gloria glances at me, then away.

I’m missing something. The way she’s standing. Not right.

Is she mad?

Or uncomfortable?

Now that I notice, lots of the remaining guests are cutting loose, getting out of control. More than that, lots of them are breaking things, some fighting outright.

A table smashes to the floor across the room, screams and laughter adding to the commotion.

“Nonsense, there’s always someone dancing! You!” Dom shouts at three women nearby, who all look back with varying looks of glassy-eyed surprise before approaching to Dom’s waving hands. “Dance with me, all of yous.”

Just like that, even in my stupor, I see the discomfort all over the room.

The majority of the faces I recognized are gone, but the few that remain are tense. Playing along. Tolerating the obscene display to stay on Dom’s good side.

“You know what? I am tired,” I speak up, making a show of rubbing my eyes and yawning.

“Aw! Baby boy needs to go to bed?” Dom mocks, shaking his head and swaying between the three scantily clad bimbos, too coked-up and drunk to realize what’s going on around them. “Pussy!”

“Ah, fuck you!” I spout off, real anger bubbling up in my chest, darkening my vision.

Fuck him.

I could do it. Right here. Beat the fuck out of Dom.

“I agree. I’m exhausted. Why don’t we get you home to bed, my love?” Gloria’s arm hoops through mine, diverting me with a subtle tug of her hand at my cheek.

“Huh? Yeah. Bed…” The image pops into my head, sounding so good suddenly.

Bed. Gloria.

But Gloria, the hopeful look, the insistent look in her eyes breaks through the haze, cues me into her discomfort. I’m nodding and shuffling toward the door without looking back.

The ride home is quiet, blurry.

“You’re so beautiful.”

I’m tipping, falling, and my head’s in her lap.

Looking down at me, she huffs, twisting that scrumptious mouth into a half smile, half frown.

“You’re fucking drunk. And cute.”

“Ooo, language, sassy lady. And I know I am.”

“Wow, modest and almost intelligible,” she mocks, running her fingers through my hair.

Her features blur, the car dims for a few moments and we’re home, at the apartment.

A skip and a hop and a tumble later, I’m flopping back on my bed sighing. What a night.

Not in a good way, really.

But not bad.

“Thanksfertakin’carovme,” I mumble. “I getso fugging tired of the bullshit, you know?

“Here. Drink.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll feel like shit tomorrow,” I say, sitting up looking as serious as I can.

Her head pulls back at first, looking warily at me. Then that angry scowl breaks.

“You are so ridiculous.”

“No, you’re Saint Nicholas. Like Christmas. You should have seen her, in that teal dress…”

“Who?”

“Mm…Gloria. It made her hair look like fire. Perfect.” I’m dozing, drifting in and out of sleep.

What might be a snort of laughter or maybe my imagination sends my head spinning deeper, fading.

“I wish…” my voice, somewhere in the distance.

“What do you wish, Adri?” Her question is so quiet. So far away.

“I just wish that you and I could have met different. Like on the train, and just that way.”

“Me too Adri. Me too.”

My eyes crack open, the golden slice of sun cutting right across my face, splitting my skull right in half. Good God.

I feel terrible.

Serves me right.

Glancing to my left, every ache and pain fades into the background. Gloria’s right there, laying on my arm, her copper hair strewn across the pillow.

Her eyes ease open.

No surprise, no judgment. Just soft, golden brown, watching me.

It occurs to me as I contemplate kissing her, the fact that we just slept together. In the same bed. For the first time.

And then how bad I must look, how awful I must smell.

And how much of a jackass I was last night.

Fucking. Idiot.