by Fiona Murphy
Ah, I love that one. It’s a wrap dress in a silky burnt orange. Yet, I shake my head. It’s also short sleeved, the hem ends right below my knee and although I’m hardly coming out of my bra, there would still be a lot of my chest on show.
“What’s the matter with this one?” The question is hard.
Fear shimmers inside me at the idea of making him angry. “It’s too tight.”
Oh no, he’s mad. His jaw clenches. I step back.
He sees it and sighs. “Come here.” The words are soft, almost gentle. I cannot refuse them. I move closer to him. “Look at me.” Still soft, still gentle. Breathing deep, I meet his eyes. His large hand cups my cheek, his thumb runs along my chin. “
Thank you for coming to me when I asked you to. I understand it wasn’t easy. This isn’t going to be any easier. You’re going to put on the burnt orange dress that it’s clear you like. If you don’t put it on yourself, I’ll be the one to put it on you.”
A last lingering kiss to my temple and then he lets me go. I can only watch as he picks out a black silk suit, a red silk shirt and black tie, and begins to dress. He couldn’t mean it? Could he? I don’t have to consider if for long before I believe he will. Sighing, I take the dress off the hanger. When I look up, Luca is gone.
Swallowing my fear, I begin to get dressed. I fasten the dress and look up in the mirror. A sigh escapes me; the dress fits. It’s not overtly sexual the way all the clothes Ignacio bought me were. Unease fills me at the idea of anyone seeing my fat legs, though.
I cover my eyes, wondering if there is anything I could possibly say—
“Hey.” Luca takes my wrist in his hand. He’s back in the closet behind me. “I think you’re gorgeous. You don’t. We’re fixing that because you’re wrong.” My hand slides into his as pulls me out of the closet. “Finish getting ready. What do you want for breakfast?”
“Scrambled eggs and toast are fine, please.”
“Coffee?” he asks.
“Not really, I’d rather have orange juice.”
“I’ll have it waiting when you’re done.”
Luca liked me in the dress. He thought I didn’t want to dress in the clothing because I didn’t think I was pretty. Although that was a part of it, really I was afraid of him treating me like a dress-up doll. Only Luca wasn’t dressing me for his pleasure; he was dressing me for my pleasure. I wonder, if I were to explain it to him, if he would let me live in the leggings and shirts I like so much.
Going into the bathroom, I wince at how awful I look. My hair is out of control because I didn’t blow dry it properly last night. I remember Luca mentioning a blow dryer under the sink, so I hunt for something I could use to tame my hair. Far back under the sink is a flat iron, a very expensive flat iron with blonde hair on it. The air in my lungs shudders—I hadn’t seen the sign of another woman. I’m trying to tell myself to calm down, but it doesn’t work. All I can think of is the blonde from last night. Was it her hair? Was she here often?
“Luca!” I find him in the living room sipping a small cup of coffee. “Who’s is this?” It takes everything in me not to throw it at him.
He laughs. How is this funny? I don’t remember it happening; all I know is one minute the flat iron is in my hand, the next it’s across the room, and Luca moves fast to avoid it. I gasp in shock and cover my mouth as I realize what I’ve done. “I’m so sorry.”
The asshole is still laughing. “Ah, so your mother is white and your father is Mexican.” How the hell could he know that? “Because if your mother were Mexican you’d never think to apologize and you’d still be yelling at me.”
His arms go around me and he hugs me close as I try to push him away. “She’s gone. She’s been gone for weeks. I couldn’t care less where she is. All of her stuff should have been cleaned out. You shouldn’t have had to deal with seeing it. I’m sorry. I’m not going to lie and say I haven’t been with a lot of women. However, I only ever take one woman at a time, and the moment I laid eyes on you every other woman faded to black.”
I’m annoyed with him and myself for hating him letting me go. “Who was the blonde?”
He frowns.
“Natasha.”
A little chuckle. “She’s my personal assistant and very gay. I was more concerned about the way she wouldn’t stop staring at you. Didn’t you notice?”
I shake my head. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Good, keep not noticing.”
***
Luca
I can’t settle as I wait for Bella to finish with the dentist. She had preferred a woman to be the one to look her over when I took her to the doctor. I did too. Once we got here to the dentist, she was okay with a man.
At first, she hadn’t wanted to be put out when the dentist explained he’d found a cavity that needed a filling. Since I knew it was really the tracker I wanted on her, it took a minute to calm her down and get her to agree to the knockout.
Just as I’m wondering what’s taking so long, the dentist comes out of the room. “Sir, we found something.”
“What do you mean you found something?” Unease fills me.
“She has a tracker in already.”
“Take it out,” I mutter as I wonder who the fuck she is that someone else is tracking her, and where the hell whoever is tracking her is at. Were they on their way here to get her back? I pull out my phone and call Valdez.
As usual he answers on the first ring. “She already has a tracker in her.” I’m wondering if somehow it could be from Valdez.
Valdez exhales a curse word. “I’m sending someone to deal with her tracker. I don’t have everything, but I have enough of what you asked for on her. Enough that you should know now.”
“Who is she?”
“Her name is Isabella Warren. She’s twenty-four years old and the daughter of Augusto Reyes. Yes, that Reyes. Isa, as she prefers to be called, is the daughter of one of the women he stole off the streets while she was visiting Mexico City from Dallas. He kept her locked up until she got pregnant with Isa, then he sent her back to Dallas to have their kid. He more or less forgot about the both of them except to torture them with the threat he’d never let them go. Reyes married her off, one day after her seventeenth birthday, to Ignacio Ortiz.”
Even though I already know the married at seventeen part, it doesn’t stop the bile rising all over again at the thought of Bella being raped when she was still a kid.
“Yeah, poor girl, Ignacio was more than forty years older than her. He married her because he didn’t have kids and wanted a few heirs. After four years when she never got pregnant, he sent her to a house he had in Tampico where he left her. The housekeeper said he never saw her again, but he liked to threaten her with him coming, just to make sure she knew he could whenever he wanted to. Ortiz died ten months ago and didn’t leave her anything. She’s been living in Dallas since he died and working as a graphic artist since she was sent to live on her own.”
“How the hell did she wind up on the back of the truck?” I nearly growl. Valdez is taking too damn long to get to what I need to know.
“Augusto is a psycho and master manipulator. Thinks he’s the next Alexander Borgia. He promised Isa to Manual Rodriguez so she could take care of his kids, since she can’t have any.”
I understand why she’s so afraid now. And all I can do is wonder if she really can’t have any kids, and what that might mean for the future I’ve been planning since I laid eyes on her.
“Luca?” he asks, and I realize I haven’t been paying attention.
“Sorry, I zoned out,” I admit.
A husky chuckle. “I can imagine learning the woman is the prospective fiancée of your drug supplier, as well as the daughter of the man you shot the hell out of to gain control of Vegas, wouldn’t be what you expected when you were wondering who she was. My man should arrive soon to handle the tracker.”
“Once they make a move on the tracker, let me know,” I order as I look down on her asleep in the dentist
’s chair. Isabella. I bite back a chuckle as I remember how big her eyes got when I called her Bella. Isa, hmm, no, it doesn’t fit her the way Bella does.
Ending the call with Valdez, I consider the coming weeks. Things aren’t going to be easy. Valdez summed it up about right. Augusto Reyes and his son Mundo likely hate my guts already from the time they tried to renegotiate the contract they had with Al. Al was an idiot and he started it off all wrong; that didn’t excuse them trying to kill Al and his number two.
I went after them to settle the score, getting back the shipment and leaving a pile of dead bodies in my wake. Then I went to the Rodriguez cartel and negotiated the purchase of drugs coming into Vegas for the Outfit through them. In the end, the other mafia in Vegas were to afraid to continue doing business with Reyes and shifted to Rodriguez until all the cocaine that came into Vegas was from the Rodriguez cartel only. Jesus is still very much in control with his number two, his son Felix. Manuel is third in command, content to be the enforcer.
Handling Manuel and Jesus wouldn’t be bloody, it would just need to be done very fucking carefully. Manuel was a psychopath, one of the most effective enforcers in any cartel. He didn’t have emotions. He’d admitted once he barely felt lust. I thought he was trying to impress, to inspire fear, but his tone—the look in his eyes told me I was wrong. The man was void of emotions. However, taking his fiancée would be seen as an affront. This will cost me, a lot.
As far as Augusto, he’s so psychotic pretty much everyone in the underworld hates him. His son, Mundo, is the preferred second and the one everyone hopes will live to inherit the business.
I bring up Pop’s number, I should call him to let him and Dominic know what’s going on. Whatever way this goes, things are going to get bloody and messy. And whether I want it to or not, it will likely make waves—I was raised that the Outfit doesn’t make waves. It’s the secret to our longevity. My control over Vegas has been absolute since I was twenty-one. Although I took over when I was eighteen, I understood and didn’t let it bother me. I’m sure in the beginning they were all waiting for me to fail, only I never did.
Despite my control, I can’t help but worry Dominic will tell me to cut Bella loose, let her go. I can understand the order. Except I wouldn’t do what I was told, not when it came to her. For now, I’m not going to tell Pop about who her people are.
I’ll worry about it tomorrow.
6
Isa
Luca has been quiet since we left the dentist. I’m wondering if he’s annoyed because I didn’t want to be put under for the filling. As we walk into the elevator to go back up to his penthouse, I can’t keep my hands from twisting together. He catches them and draws me to him. How can such a simple touch be so soothing yet have me desperate for more?
“What’s the matter?” he asks as he unravels my hands.
“You’ve been quiet. It worries me,” I admit.
We’re in the living room now. He presses me down on the couch then goes to the bar. I watch as his he pours a few fingers then takes a measured sip, before walking back to me. Taking another sip, he sits down beside me. Picking up my hand, he runs his thumb over my wrist.
“Isa, I have to say the name doesn’t hit quite right to me. I’m preferring the Bella part to your name.”
I go still in shock, then try to pull my hand from his. Once again he doesn’t let me go.
“I know who you are. You know who I am. I don’t care. I’m not letting go of you. Not today or tomorrow, not ten or twenty years from now. Don’t worry about all of that. I’ll figure it out.”
“How?” I don’t know how the word gets out of my throat.
The tip of his mouth goes up. “I told you, Bella. I’m Luca Sabatini and nothing happens in this city without my permission. My first thought was to let you tell me when you were ready. I decided against it because I don’t want that hanging over you, us. I know who you are. Does it make things complicated? Not really. I’m more concerned about your fear of me at war with your desire for me. Have you been seeing a therapist?”
How can black be soft and warm? His eyes hold mine and won’t let go. He’s really not afraid. Is he crazy?
“Bella?”
“Yes, I started about six months ago when some poor guy accidentally bumped into me getting out of an elevator, and when he went to put his hand around my arm to stop me from falling, I had a panic attack and fainted,” I admit, red all over again at the memory. “We did EMDR. It’s this thing where it makes the memories easier to contain instead of smashing them down then them popping open on you. It really helped but...I don’t know. I’m beyond messed up. You can’t—”
“Hey.” His hand goes into my hair and yanks me back to look up at him. “I don’t want to hear you talk shit on yourself. Do you want to keep going with your therapist in Dallas? Do you think they’ll do it by phone, or do you want me to find someone for you to see here in Vegas?”
“You would be okay with me seeing someone?” Wasn’t he going to tell me to just get over it?
He’s frowning down at me. “Of course, it wouldn’t be any different than you getting physically hurt and needing a regular doctor, which is a huge part of what you dealt with. Do I wish I could fix everything? Yes. I don’t like the idea of you in pain from everything you went through. However, there is no time limit on trauma. What you need is what you need.”
The elevator alert goes off. He frowns. It’s the man who opened the door and spoke Spanish last night. Today he’s in a black silk suit with a white shirt and dark blue tie. Without the fear from last night, I can see he has a tattoo across his throat of a tiger’s blue eyes. He’s handsome with bright blue eyes like the ones on the tiger, a strong jaw and sharp nose. But he also has more muscles than I feel comfortable with, muscles that even the cut-to-fit silk suit can’t hide. There are tattoos on the back of his hands, but I can’t make them out from here.
“Luca, don’t you remember we’re supposed to be meeting with the mayor in twenty minutes?”
“Shit. I forgot. Sandro, Bella. Bella, this is Sandro, my number two.”
Sandro doesn’t bother trying to shake the hand I offer him. His hands go up. “Nice to meet you again, beautiful, but I’m not even trying to have my blood spilled. I’ll bring your man back. You look good, don’t bother changing. We have got to go. She turns into such a bitch when we run late.”
Luca kisses my cheek. “I’ll be back soon. Call up room service when you get hungry.”
Then they are both gone.
The mayor? Shaking my head, I sigh. Not sure what to do with myself, I decide to change back into leggings and a shirt for comfort. I go into the bedroom to change.
In the walk-in closet are two flat white boxes with “Bella” on each one. I open one, it’s a one-piece swimsuit in my size. It’s a basic black swimsuit, exactly the kind I would have bought if I felt I had to. Opening the other one, I find a black two-piece but not a traditional bikini. I think it’s called a tankini. The top half is a lot like the sports bras I wore around my apartment and the bottoms are large, giving more coverage. Under the tankini is a silicone hair cover.
Luca said he would have the cameras turned off... but did he remember? Then I flash on the way he growled at Sandro last night about touching me—these wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t remembered. My guess is he’ll be gone for at least a few hours.
Excited now, I change into the one-piece and wrap myself in a big, fluffy white robe and grab a towel. It takes forever to get all my hair up under the hair cover. Out on the rooftop, I drop the robe then slowly walk into the pool from the shallow end with the steps. It’s a huge pool with a large area of two feet, then four feet then seven feet. The water feels as good as I thought it would.
For the next two hours I swim, then play in the water until my fingers get all wrinkled.
There’s an outdoor shower to rinse off before going inside. Standing under the water, I study the city below. Luca is meeting the mayor of the city, and f
rom what Sandro said this is obviously not the first time. He had been able to find out who I was in less than a day. And he wasn’t afraid of Augusto in the slightest. Maybe, just maybe, Luca could go up against Augusto and come out alive.
I’m in the living room watching television on a massive flat screen that I thought was a mirror. I found it by accident when I found the remote and pressed a button and the mirror became the news. The sun is beginning to set and I’m wondering where Luca is when I blink and he’s walking toward me. His smile flashes his dimples, causing me to melt for him. It is not fair he’s so gorgeous. And he thinks I’m beautiful, me.
“Hi, I wanted to have dinner with you. Are you good for dinner now?” he asks as he catches my hand and brings it up to his lips. The electricity is still there, and it still makes me want more. All I can do is nod. “Good, go change...maybe something black.”
Inside I freeze at his order. Yet, I don’t dare argue with him. I had just been thinking how lucky I am at how he thinks I’m beautiful. To argue with him is to call him a liar, and he’s not. Taking a deep breath, I go through the dresses. There is a pretty wrap dress in black I like.
Back in the living room, I find Luca on his phone. When his head goes up he goes still. “Bella is much more fitting for you.”
He catches my hand as he guides me toward the elevator. “My chef is tense and waiting. I noticed you liked a little bit of everything from the food I ordered last night. Talk to me, what are your favorite foods?”
I blink twice, the question is so mundane. “Um, I prefer Italian food but with the red sauce, not white sauce with all the cheese. Even after all these years I don’t like most Mexican food.”
“Must have been hard the last six years.” Luca guides me out of the elevator into the back of a restaurant that screams elegance.
Shrugging. “It wasn’t bad. The cook there was nice enough to prepare the things I liked. I never had to eat with Ignacio or anything. He wasn’t there much, thankfully. When he sent me to live on my own, I wasn’t really alone. I had two guards who lived there and one of them, his wife was the cook and housekeeper. She was happy to cook exactly what I liked too. In the last few months I tried to learn to cook. I’m not very good at it though. I can scramble eggs and do spaghetti and that’s about it.”
