Page 33

S arah

At six-fifty, I’m standing in the lobby, waiting for Big Boyd.

I’m wearing a simple black dress, but I’m glad I didn’t see the price tag. The mythical red-soled heels are on my feet, and they’re surprisingly comfortable. Thankfully, I still remember how to walk in heels. It’s been a really long time since I’ve worn a pair.

A few minutes later, Boyd walks through the front door.

His hair has been cut. He didn’t have much to begin with, but it’s trimmed down.

His beard has been trimmed as well, much shorter than it was when he dropped me off.

His suit is stretched across his broad frame, but fits him perfectly.

It looks a lot nicer than the ones he wears every day.

His green gaze finds me immediately, and the way he looks at me makes the air catch in my throat. As he gets closer, I catch the scent of his cologne as it drifts to me before he reaches the spot where I’m standing.

“You clean up nice,” I say, giving him a slow onceover, a grin tugging at the edges of my lips.

“I made sure this suit didn’t have any bloodstains on it,” he says, and I can’t tell if he’s serious or joking. “You, though? You look fucking amazing.”

“Even though I told you not to, you made me Las Vegas pretty.” I look down, the grin not leaving my face.

“Nah, still Sarah pretty,” he says, taking my hands and forcing me to look at him again. “And it’s a beautiful sight. Besides, you still picked everything out—once I got you inside.”

Our eyes meet. Nobody has ever made me feel pretty like Boyd does. The way he looks at me, like he never gets tired of what he sees. Like he can’t get enough. Like he’s dying to kiss me, every time, even right now. My lips are already tingling in anticipation.

“Big Boyd!” Massimo calls out, interrupting our moment. “A word?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Boyd sighs. “Wait right here. I’ll be right back.”

I turn toward Massimo as Boyd stomps in that direction.

Massimo flashes me a smile that’s almost warm, which is rather surprising.

I can’t hear what they’re saying, but the discussion looks fairly civil.

After I see them glance my way a few times, I walk over to the concierge area and distract myself by looking at the headlines on the newspapers available.

“Hmm, what’s that?” I question, picking up a newspaper and flipping it over so I can see the story at the bottom of the page. “Missing tourists. Several of them.”

Even when I’m about to go on a date with the hottest guy I’ve ever met, I can’t turn off the true-crime-junkie-slash-true-crime-podcaster part of myself. I read the news story, flipping to the page so I can finish it.

“These names… I swear I’ve—” I mutter, then I’m interrupted by Boyd’s heavy footsteps, so I put the newspaper down and turn toward him. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, you told Lea about the date, hmm?” he chuckles.

“I did,” I admit. “Should I… not have?”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t give a fuck if anyone knows we’re on a date tonight,” he replies. “But Massimo promised her he’d talk to me. Don’t break your heart. I’m sure you can figure out the rest.”

“Wow, I’ve never had anyone have the talk with someone before I went on a date with them.” I can’t help but laugh. “My mom… she always said you never really know someone, because she thought my dad was the nicest guy in the world until he murdered one of his students to cover up his affair.”

“That’s true,” he says. “But with me, what you see is what you get. I think you already know that.”

“I bet there’s plenty I don’t know,” I laugh, biting my bottom lip.

“That’s what dates are for, Sarah,” he says. “We skipped ahead a few steps, but now we get to know each other a little better.”

“And you promise you’re not going to break my heart? You promised that to Massimo? The boss,” I ask, searching his eyes for any hint of the heartbreak he could easily inflict, but I don’t see anything except genuineness in his gaze.

“I don’t break what is mine,” he assures me, taking my hand in his.

“Oh, so your doors are safe?” I laugh, holding his hand as we walk toward the exit. “It’s other people who have to be worried about their doors. Beds. Steps. Tables…”

“You know what the fuck I mean,” he snaps back, but there’s a smirk on his face.

When we step outside, it isn’t Boyd’s SUV waiting on us.

It’s a limousine. The driver nods and opens the back door.

I suck in a breath and Boyd leads me to it, then helps me climb inside.

I expect the slap that lands on my ass when I give him full access to it.

It’s gentler than some of them have been.

“Wow,” I say once he’s seated beside me. “You went all out.”

“Nothing but the best for you,” he smiles. “It’s what you deserve. Now get your ass over here so I can smear that lipstick a little before we get to the restaurant.”

Boyd pulls me closer and his lips crash into mine.

The kiss takes my breath away and makes my head spin as the limousine pulls away from the curb.

Just when I think he’s about to pull away, his hand wraps around the back of my neck and he kisses me even deeper.

I melt into his arms and our bodies press together.

Heat radiates from my core. When our lips finally part, I gasp for my next breath.

“Aren’t you supposed to wait until the end of the date to kiss me?” I ask, my eyes still closed, my lips still tingling, my core still radiating warmth.

“Skipping ahead,” he murmurs, tracing my lips before finally pulling away.

“Don’t skip ahead too far,” I say, shaking my head as I recover from the intensity of the kiss. “You said we going to get to know each other a little better tonight. And I’m a true crime podcaster, so don’t expect any easy questions.”

“Ask away,” he says.

Boyd has told me a few things about himself. His mother wasn’t able to keep him, so his uncle took him in. His father is from Greece, but he doesn’t really know him. He had a sister—but those are some bad memories. Still, I have to ask something.

“Any other siblings? Besides the sister you told me about?” I ask apprehensively, hoping it won’t be too much for the first question.

“Got a brother who lives in New York,” he answers. “He actually listened when I pushed him to go to college. Wish my sister had. I’m the oldest, so I felt like I had to look after them. Our uncle is a good man, but he wasn’t ready to be a parent, so that fell on me.”

“Are you close with your brother?” I continue.

“We talk every couple of weeks. See each other around the holidays, if possible.” Boyd shrugs. “He’s got his own life. Makes his money trading stocks and does well, so I don’t really have to worry about him anymore.”

“And he knows what you do?” I ask, nibbling the inside of my mouth.

“Yes,” Boyd confirms. “I started young. I was still a teenager. My uncle’s apartment was right by the Broken Lily.

I hung out with Rowan some, before I met Massimo and Leo.

It was obvious they weren’t poor, like most everyone else in The Gutter.

When they asked if I wanted to make some money, I was all ears. ”

“The Morandi family recruits kids?” My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I didn’t realize that.”

“Not really, no. That was Massimo’s doing, really.

He was destined to sit at the head of the table.

Wanted his own guys. People he could trust to move up in the Morandi family while still having his best interests in mind,” Boyd explains.

“Salvatore did the same thing. If Massimo and Lea have a boy, he’ll probably have a band of teenage delinquents answering to him, too, when he’s old enough. ”

“My best friend’s kid running the Morandi family.” I exhale sharply. “Lea… might not be fond of that idea.”

“She knew what she was getting into,” Boyd growls. “Just like you do.”

I swallow hard as the implication resonates inside me.

He’s right. I know what I’m getting myself into—what I’ve already gotten myself into.

Boyd’s a member of the Morandi family. A high-ranking member.

He’s never been on my Mafia true crime wall, but Massimo is.

I’m already tangled up in it all. So tangled, I’m on a date with Big Mafia Boyd.

“If you… we… were to have kids. Would you expect them to join the Morandi family?” I ask. “Once they’re old enough.”

“I wouldn’t encourage it, but I’d let them make their own choice,” he says. “I wasn’t born into this like Massimo. But, uh, kids… yeah. Guess we should talk about that, because you probably want them, don’t you?”

“Um, I think so,” I say, tilting my head slightly. “You don’t?”

“It’s not that I don’t,” he sighs, then points to his groin. “I’m sure you saw the scar down there. That bullet didn’t stop me, but it did some damage. Doctor said I basically got a free vasectomy, courtesy of the shrapnel.”

“Oh!” I remark, my eyes getting wide. “That had to hurt!”

“It did,” he agrees. “And there’s so much scar tissue down there, it isn’t something they can fix. Didn’t plan to drop that on you during our first date. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” I reach out and put my hand on his arm. “At least now I can stop worrying if I’m going to get pregnant. We haven’t exactly been using protection.”

“No need,” he grunts. “But it might be possible, one day. IVF, maybe, but there’s no guarantee.”

“I don’t need a guarantee,” I say, squeezing his arm. “Seriously. If it’s possible, and we get that far with this, then we’ll cross that bridge when we have to. If it isn’t possible, it isn’t possible. There’s always adoption.”

“And plenty of kids that need homes,” Boyd says, nodding in agreement. “We’re almost to the restaurant.”

“Good, I’m hungry,” I say, glancing out the window when we turn into a parking lot. “I don’t see a sign for a restaurant, though.”

“Very exclusive. They only seat eight guests a night,” Boyd explains.

“Let me guess, it’s owned by the Morandi family?” I laugh.