Page 16 of The Killer Cupcake (Poison Cherry #3)

T he humid breeze off the Mississippi clung to Kathy's skin and dampened her carefully styled hair as Carmelo guided her down moss-covered stone stairs through a crumbling courtyard off Bourbon Street.

Somewhere above, the clip-clop of a mule cart and the distant wail of a trumpet spoke of the segregated city that existed in daylight.

But here, behind an unmarked iron door, jazz pulsated like a living heartbeat.

This was where another South breathed—underground, alive, and unapologetically free.

Aunt Janey swept in first, a regal silhouette in emerald silk that made the massive Sicilian bouncer snap to attention like a soldier before his general.

"Evenin', Miss Janey," he murmured, his eyes darting nervously to her companion, Capo Carmine Boanno, whose diamond cufflinks caught the amber light.

The bouncer didn't speak to Carmelo, who gently pushed Kathy and Willa forward to enter before him, but gave the young fighter a nod of unmistakable respect.

Then came the assault on the senses—the heat, the noise, the intoxicating aliveness of it all.

The speakeasy was a cathedral of sin and smoke, where morality came to die and be reborn as something more honest. Ceiling lighting dripped golden luminance onto a swirling dance floor, where Black musicians tore into a hypnotic mix of Zydeco, South Louisiana Creole-infused rhythm and blues, and swing music that had evolved from jazz.

Their horns wept and soared with the passion of the truly free.

Creole women in bias-cut gowns that cost more than most people's yearly wages laughed intimately with their men, who all looked to be of wealth and prominence.

Sicilian men had several of their ladies on their arms. These men in sharply tailored suits, gold crucifixes glinting against black and curly chest hair, gazed at you no matter where you stepped.

At the bar, a stunning light-skinned beauty passed aged whiskey to a mob captain with a scar carved through his left eyebrow like a badge of honor.

There were no "White Only" signs here. No segregated corners or apologetic glances. Just the mob's iron law, more absolute than any government decree: Money outranks color, always.

Kathy felt Carmelo's hand tighten possessively at her hip, his touch burning through the silk of her dress. "This is my world now," he bragged, his voice low and intense. "I want you to see it. All of it."

She glanced back over her shoulder at him, and without warning, he boldly brushed his lips across hers in a kiss that tasted of defiance.

Kathy's eyes fluttered in shock—it was the first kiss he'd ever dared give her in public, around his people.

She would rather die than kiss him in front of her father, yet here he was, claiming her openly.

The acceptance rendered her speechless, her heart hammering against her ribs as her gaze swept over the mobsters around the room, his tongue delving deeper.

A few gave her sly smiles and appreciative looks, their eyes holding nothing but interest. None seemed angered or disgusted by their obvious affection.

Carmelo's smile was triumphant, almost boyish in its pride when their lips parted.

Then a gasp next to them made her snap out of it.

"Willa!" she called out urgently. "Carmelo!"

Two men had descended on Willa like sharks scenting blood—one to her right, another to her left, both easily twice her age and speaking at her simultaneously in rapid-fire French, English, and Italian. Willa looked terrified, overwhelmed by the aggressive attention. A man touched her chin.

Carmelo immediately stepped toward the predators, his entire demeanor shifting from lover to enforcer in the space of a heartbeat. He said a few quiet words that made both men step back with raised hands and apologetic smiles, then pulled Willa protectively closer to their group.

"Stay close to us," he commanded gently but firmly.

"Sorry," Willa mumbled, her voice small with embarrassment.

Gone was any trace of the timid sharecropper's daughter from Mississippi.

In her place stood a vision in champagne lace—Janey's borrowed pearls glowed like captured moonlight against Willa’s slender throat, her dark eyes wide as saucers as she took in the velvet banquettes, the musical clink of champagne coupes, the sheer audacity of this hidden world.

Willa touched her hair, newly styled into sleek finger waves, as if checking that this Cinderella transformation was fundamental and not some elaborate dream.

Carmelo moved through the crowd like a young prince, greeting other men with embraces and handshakes that spoke of genuine affection and hard-earned respect. The girls instinctively found each other’s hands, seeking comfort in the familiar touch.

"You okay?" Kathy whispered.

"It's like... like walkin' inside a diamond!" Willa breathed, wonder replacing her earlier fear.

“You’ve never seen a diamond before,” Kathy teased.

“I read about them in your books. And Debbie has that pretty bracelet with diamonds and sapphires. Remember?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah, you right,” Kathy nodded.

Suddenly, Carmine Boanno's voice cut through the music. He stood in the center of the room with a crystal glass raised high, Janey at his side, grinning with feline satisfaction.

" Salute al campione! " he roared.

The response was instantaneous and thunderous.

Mobsters, both Black and Sicilian, beautiful women, and Creole gamblers turned as one organism, glasses raised toward Carmelo in a toast that felt almost religious in its fervor.

Saturday's fight wasn't just a boxing match—it was war declared.

This would be a testament to power and territory that would echo through both the legitimate and criminal worlds.

A young man approached through the crowd, moving with the confidence of someone born to wealth and privilege.

His gaze bypassed Kathy entirely, fixing on Willa with the focused intensity of a hunter spotting new prey.

He was breathtakingly handsome—skin like warm caramel, wavy hair the color of copper slicked back to perfection, and clear green eyes that seemed to glow with their own inner light.

He was so polished, so flawlessly groomed, that he didn't quite look real.

He murmured something in liquid French that neither Willa nor Kathy understood, the words flowing like music. Before either could respond, he lifted Willa's hand to his lips and kissed it with old-world gallantry, his eyes never leaving her face.

Kathy felt her own pulse quicken at the electric connection crackling between them. "Kathy? What's happening?" Willa whispered, her voice filled with confused wonder.

"I think he likes you," Kathy murmured back, unable to suppress her smile.

"I... what? What do I do?" Willa asked desperately.

The mysterious suitor extended his hand with a bow worthy of European royalty, then led her toward the dance floor with the confidence of a man who'd never been refused.

Willa looked back over her shoulder, seeking rescue, but Kathy made the decision to let her go.

This was Willa's moment—her chance to feel special, desired, beautiful in a way she'd never been allowed to experience.

When the stranger swept her into his arms and she began to sway against him to the hypnotic rhythm, Kathy saw the instant connection that was worth savoring, worth the risk.

"Looks like Willa's found her match," Carmelo said, his arm slid around Kathy's waist to pull her back against the solid warmth of his chest. She relaxed into him, feeling safe and claimed as they swayed near the table where the Ricci crew held court.

"We shouldn't be so open," Kathy said, though her protest lacked conviction. "We could get in trouble. That kiss was enough. People were watching.”

"We're fine here. My father's men don't care about this. My father doesn't care. Not really. Not about this," Carmelo murmured against her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine.

"What?" Kathy twisted in his arms to face him, confusion clouding her features. "What does that mean—he doesn't care? Not really? Of course he does, Melo. He has a hit out on me. I can't return to Harlem. My father's life is hanging by a thread because of us!"

Carmelo's eyes widened slightly, and she caught something—a flicker of deceit, of knowledge he wasn't sharing. "Yes. Right. He wants us separated, but they... uhm, they don't know who you are here. They don't care about?—"

"Stop." Kathy stepped back, her intuition screaming warnings in her head. "You're lying to me. I can see it in your eyes." Her voice grew stronger, more certain. "Don't treat me like I'm stupid, Carmelo Ricci.”

"Kat... come on, don't be angry," he pleaded, reaching for her, but she evaded his grasp.

"Let me go!" She shoved him away with both hands, the force of her anger surprising them both. "You're lying to me about something important, and I won't stand for it! I felt it earlier, and I feel it now. Tell me. Tell me.”

He opened his mouth. The truth was there, on his tongue. But one look into her lovely face and his heart raced so fast he could barely breathe, let alone speak. He closed his mouth and lost his nerve.

"Kat!" Carmelo called desperately as she stormed away from him.

Kathy headed straight for her aunt's table, her silk dress swishing with each determined step. Carmelo stood frozen in the middle of the dance floor, caught between truth and deception, unsure what words could possibly repair the damage.

A heavy hand dropped onto his shoulder like a lead weight. He glanced back to see Caesar's grim face. "It's time."

"In a minute. I need to talk to Kathy—she's upset," Carmelo said, starting to move toward his retreating girlfriend.

Caesar's grip tightened, stopping him cold. "It's Don Marcello. He wants to see you now. You can't say no to this."

Carmelo looked back toward the table, where Janey sat, watching him with those penetrating cat-like eyes, while Kathy settled beside her aunt, clearly venting her frustrations about his strange behavior.

He could see Janey absorbing every word, filing away information with the calculating mind of a woman who collected secrets like other people collected jewelry.

He cursed under his breath, torn between duty and love, and reluctantly turned away from the woman who held his heart, toward whatever fate awaited him in the shadows of the criminal world he'd chosen to embrace.

"Willa has found a new love in the Quarter," Janey said.

Still fuming over Carmelo's sudden disappearance and his complete dismissal of her feelings, Kathy wasn't really listening.

She glanced toward the dance floor and paused over the scene.

Willa was wrapped in her gentleman's arms, but now they were kissing.

Passionately! Lost in each other as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

“Whoa, we need to bring her back to the table," Kathy said, starting to stand.

Janey's manicured hand pressed firmly against her wrist. "Sit," she commanded softly.

"She doesn't know him," Kathy protested, concern evident in her voice.

“She's getting to it,” Janey smirked, clearly enjoying the romantic drama unfolding before them.

But Kathy had seen enough. She stood decisively and hurried onto the dance floor, weaving between other couples until she reached Willa. Without ceremony, she grabbed her friend by the arm and pulled her out of the stranger's embrace.

"Kathy!" Willa gasped, dazed and clearly intoxicated by more than just the kiss.

The suitor's expression hardened as his gaze shifted from Willa to Kathy, his mesmerizing eyes flashing with annoyance.

He took a threatening step toward them, then suddenly froze.

Kathy followed his line of sight and realized he was looking beyond them to the table where Janey sat watching the entire scene with an unwavering stare.

A dare? Something more? The man's demeanor changed instantly—he gave Janey a respectful nod that seemed almost apologetic, winked at Willa, and then turned and melted back into the crowd without another word.

"Why did you do that?” Willa shouted, her face flushed with embarrassment and anger.

"You don't know him," Kathy said firmly, still watching the spot where the mysterious man had disappeared.

"So what, Kathy! I was having fun for once in my life!" Willa's voice cracked with disappointment.

“Did he give you something to drink?” Kathy said, and moved in closer to smell her breath.

“Leave me be!” Willa said as she stormed back toward their table.

Janey sat there smirking at Kathy as if the entire event was set for her entertainment.

Between Carmelo's games and Willa's sudden attitude, and her aunt's trickery, Kathy had reached her breaking point.

She threw her hands up in defeat and headed in the opposite direction.

Maybe she should have something to drink.

Initially, she walked toward the bar, but then spotted a lighted corridor that obviously led toward the restrooms.

She needed air. She needed space. She needed to be free.