Page 22 of Sins of the Orchid

“When are you back?” Adriano asked me in a low voice, but we were still within Renzo and Santi’s earshot, and although those two were talking in hushed Italian, I knew they could hear us.

“Tuesday.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow,” he promised. I nodded and upon another gentle nudge by Santi, I scurried along.

The second we exited the bathroom, loud music assaulted my ears. The hallway was crowded, college kids everywhere.

Something warm enveloped me and I realized Santi had draped his jacket over my shoulders. I shot him a questioning look, and he murmured softly, “It’s a chilly night.”

I nodded, accepting his explanation. His scent from it immediately cocooned me, and I inhaled deeply. I should’ve been terrified by the violence he unleashed in the bathroom. He killed that Venezuelan, but I felt safe. I always felt safest around him.

Placing a steady hand on the small of my back, he urged me forward.

“Here” by Alessia Cara played while a group of boys were playing beer pong and riling each other up. Girls either hung all over the boys or stood together, whispering to each other and eyeing the guys.

I knew the moment the girls spotted Santi. The chatter got just a notch quieter. My eyes traveled over the group of girls as they all gawked and giggled at him, hoping for his attention or a glance. Anything. It was much worse than how they reacted to Adriano. I looked over my shoulder and met his eyes. He was focused on me.

“You good?” he questioned.

“Yes.”

Unlike Adriano, Santi’s eyes remained on me and never wavered to acknowledge anyone else. A gorgeous blonde girl waved his way, but he didn’t so much as flick his gaze her way. Why did I like that so much? Too much.

Returning my attention to where I was going, I told myself not to debate too much about my reaction to Santi. I knew he would never see me as anything more than a kid. I was sixteen; he was twenty-four. We probably had nothing in common and this puppy love would eventually die out. I just had to get through it - it was like a rite of passage.

Every girl goes through it.Right?

The crowded room proved to be a challenge to shuffle through. Santi shoved a few boys around to allow me space to get through. It was kind of mind numbing. A wild, drunken party here, and a dead body in the bathroom right down the hallway. It became so startlingly obvious that there was a defining line between a normal life and the mafia life.

Where do I belong?I pondered.

Five minutes later we were outside. The fresh air hit me, and I inhaled deeply, letting the smell of alcohol and mixed fragrances wash out of my lungs. September was my least favorite month. Mom and George were killed the first week of September.

“My bag is in Adriano’s trunk,” I told Santi who stood next to me, probably waiting for me to get a move on.

“Let’s go get it.”

We walked through the parking lot, and though Santi was relaxed next to me, I sensed he was alert to his surroundings. Spotting Adriano’s Mustang, he went straight to the back of the car, pulled out a swiss knife and flipped it open.

“What are you doing?” I asked in a whisper, my eyes skimming the parking lot. I didn’t want to get in trouble. And breaking into a car was sure to land us in trouble. Not that Don Russo would care.

“I’m getting your bag.”

“You can’t break into Adriano’s car,” I scolded, the irony of reprimanding one of the most ruthless men in the Cosa Nostra didn’t escape me.

He just chuckled.

“It’s either a knife or I shoot the trunk open. Take your pick, kiddo.”

I narrowed my eyes on him. He could be such a jackass sometimes. I pressed my lips together and tapped my foot impatiently. I liked Santino Russo, but it didn’t mean I saw him under the illusion that he was perfect. The man liked to push people’s buttons.

The trunk popped open, and he grabbed my bag.

“Here we go. The pink travel Gucci bag is in our possession.” Was he making fun of me? “Now, let’s get out of here.”

He grabbed my wrist and started walking. My eyes flickered to his big hand wrapped around it. I knew his entire arm was tattooed, down to his fingers. My heart fluttered seeing his tattooed hand against my pale skin and excitement rushed through me.

“Why were you here anyhow?” I asked him curiously. “Aren’t you too old for college parties?”