Page 1 of Shane: His to Possess
1
Must see you now. Urg…
Mia Kasilli glanced at her phone when it chimed to let her know she had a new text message. Her father, again. She deleted it without even bothering to open it fully. He’d been texting and calling for several days. Didn’t seem to care that she wanted nothing to do with him.
Maybe she should change her number, but why bother? He’d just find it again if she did. Her father had a number of dubious contacts living in his shadow world who could easily find a new number, so what was the point? He would eventually go away. Vadim Kasilli had no trouble forgetting he had a daughter most of the time, so whatever his purpose for trying to reach her, he’d surely give up soon.
Entering the restaurant where she worked the evening shift as a server, Mia left her things in the break room and donned an apron over her serviceable black dress. She took a moment to eye her appearance in the full-length mirror, wanting to give Mr. Lovelle no reason to complain. The job was hard work, but lucrative and helped fund her college courses.
She looked neat and pretty, as she was supposed to. Her dark hair was confined in a tight twist, and the subdued makeup she’d used only enhanced her blue eyes and made her lips look a bit fuller without being pouty. The dress was modest and well-fitting, but not figure-hugging. No one could complain about the length ending an inch below her knees. Her flats weren’t as sexy as some of the shoes the other waitresses wore, but she could still walk six blocks to her apartment after work each night without blisters or pain.
After straightening the ties on the white apron, she smoothed the wrinkles from the crisp accessory and left the break room. As soon as she entered the din of the kitchen to clock in, the atmosphere was chaotic, yet somehow soothing in its familiarity. They were busy tonight, and she started working from almost the second she clocked in. Weekends were always crazy, but the tips were the best and easily provided forty percent of her income from just Friday and Saturday nights.
Lovelle’s customers seemed to be more demanding than usual, so she was feeling frazzled by the time the shift ended at eleven. Without complaint, she worked alongside the other servers and bussers to clean the restaurant and leave it ready for Sunday’s brunch crowd. Mia was looking forward to sleeping in while all those customers came for their champagne, lobster tails, and lox.
Near midnight, she was back in the break room to remove the apron and toss it in the laundry cart while Jimmy did the same. She bit back a groan at the realization it was just the two of them in the small room. He was a sweet boy, but she had no interest in him. It didn’t matter they were practically the same age. Heck, he might even be older than her own twenty-one years, but he seemed so immature.
“Long night, huh?”
She nodded in agreement as she picked up her bag. “I’m glad it’s over, and that I don’t work again until Tuesday night.”
His face fell. “Really? I have to work the next few days.” Looking nervous, he asked, “I was wondering if you—”
Before he could issue an invitation she wouldn’t accept and ultimately hurt his feelings, she deliberately knocked into a table while cursing her supposed clumsiness. After righting it, she sighed dramatically. “Well, good night, Jimmy.”
He looked disappointed, but had clearly abandoned the request—for now at least. “Hey, you need me to walk you home?”
She shook her head. “No, thanks.” Lifting her keychain, she showed him her pepper spray. “I’ve got it taken care of.”
He looked doubtful, but didn’t push her. “Okay. Good night, Mia.”
With a casual wave in his direction, she left the break room, said goodbye to the two dishwashers standing at the back entrance polluting the area with the smoke from their cigarettes, and headed off in the direction of the tiny apartment she shared with three other girls. Fortunately, they’d all be out since it was Saturday, and she’d have the place to herself. Mia couldn’t wait to sink into the old-fashioned tub to wash off the stench of restaurant food—even upscale meals clung to the pores after enough hours. She might pour a glass of red wine—cheap, but still relaxing—although she probably wouldn’t need the help getting to sleep.
It took her less than a block to realize someone was following her.
The furtive sound of footsteps made her tense, and she gripped her pepper spray tighter, ensuring the nozzle was facing outward. Mia increased her pace on the off chance she was simply going the same way as someone behind her, but her instincts screamed that wasn’t the case.
Deciding to be more safe than stupid, she increased her pace. When the footsteps behind her did too, she broke into a run. She was glad for her flats—that she wasn’t in the heels some of the waitresses wore—but wished for tennis shoes. She was in good shape and fast, but the shoes hampered her speed as she broke into a sprint.
The slam of hard soles against the pavement grew closer, and she whirled to face her attacker when he got close enough to be in range. She unleashed a spray right in the giant blond man’s eyes, making him raise his hands and scream.
Immediately, she turned to face the second man, who wasn’t quite the hulking behemoth as his comrade, but still a lot bigger than her own petite frame. The sight of the gun in his hand, as he brought it up to point at her, made her mouth go dry, and she made a show of lowering the pepper spray canister. That wasn’t going to do any good against a gun.
“What do you want?”
“Get up, Bruno.” The second man nudged the one she’d sprayed. He had a thick accent she couldn’t quite place. Irish? Scottish?
With a snarl, the blond giant lurched to his feet, his suit jacket straining across his broad chest as he blindly reached out in her direction. “I’m going to kill that bitch, Wallace.”
Mia was surprised when the gun moved from her to Bruno.
“No, you’re not. The boss wants her unharmed.”
It was Mia’s turn to snarl. These men had to work for her father. It was a new low for him to send his thugs to fetch her, but she wasn’t surprised. He would never take time from his busy schedule of criminal activity to come himself. “What does he want?”
Wallace shrugged. “Not my problem, miss. There is a limousine at the end of the street. You will turn and walk like a proper lady to the vehicle.”
She narrowed her eyes. “The boss wants me unharmed.”