by Sonya Jesus
There’s a very interesting person in room four.
The door slams open, startling me. I glance to the side to see Tony’s threesome with one less Tony.
The man in front of me is really fucking pissed. Fuming. The door is slammed shut, and the button activates, shutting us inside. No interruptions.
He stalks toward me, bare chested and fastened belt, and locks me against the window, one arm on either side, using the knuckles of his fists to support his weight. “How did you get in here?”
I don’t answer fast enough.
He yanks the mask from my face, snapping the cord with the force. I wince as the stretched elastic strikes my cheek. Cupping the sensitive skin, I subdue the sting of the small lashing on my cheek bone. “How did you know I was here? Can you see me?”
“I was notified the moment your GPS pinged on your phone. Vinnie’s outside waiting for you.”
The new phone. Shit. “They didn’t take your phone?”
He smiles, but only to hide his anger. “My turn to question you. Don’t think I don’t know how you get away with things.” He tosses the mask on the chair and unfastens his belt so he can zip and button up. He shouts to the air. “Bring me my shoes and shirt.”
So, they can listen.
“What are you doing here, Isabella? I said for you not to come tonight.”
“Because you were having a threesome with a guy?”
“Because this isn’t a place for you. Anyone here can recognize you.”
“No one can see me.”
He laughs and slides his hand through his hair before grabbing my wrist and shoving me into his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around me. “This room is the main attraction. Why do you think it’s in the middle?”
“What does that mean?”
“It means it’s time to get the fuck out, Isabella. Unless you want fifteen people watching me screw you and tie you to that chair.”
Yep. I’m out. I got what I came for anyway.
“I’m going home.” I push him off.
“You shouldn’t have fucking left the house. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you coming into my club?”
“Your club?”
He brings a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell, Daddy, but I bought this place three years ago.”
“You think my father doesn’t know?”
“I know he doesn’t.”
What the fuck?
Chapter Nine
Paolo
Luca Cabrali
Instead of delivering the burner phone to the post office, I figure, dropping it at the church will work better. So before going to the hotel for some much-needed sleep, I grabbed an energy drink, traded my car out for a limo, and asked to be driven to Old Ridge.
My buddy’s hotel isn’t that far away, so I left my car in the parking lot. The old dude in the front seat, with a friendly smile, doesn’t seem surprised when I ask for somewhere fun.
“Fun time, got it.” He swirls his head forward before I get a chance to clarify.
“A place where they don’t recognize my face, and where there aren’t paparazzi.” Movie stars travel in black limos, and that’s who I’m pretending to be. Anthony Shard. It’s a made-up name, but if I play the part right, no one will know.
“You famous?” The stout man with the white beard turns around to study me, but I keep my head down. I can see the driver through mirrors in the vehicle.
Like an asshole. “Preferably, a place I can get laid.”
The driver’s tight lips convey his disapproval, but he drives and leaves the divider down. Because I have nothing to hide, I simply sit in the backseat, thinking about how much of a bad idea this is.
There are so many things in play, and each one of them puts Isabella in danger. I don’t think she realizes how risky this plan is. If Beppe finds out she’s planning his murder, offering up money to the highest bidder, he’d lose his shit and kill her.
Tony would probably be the one to pull the trigger.
“Is there a church anywhere near where we are going. I’d like to stop in and say a prayer.” My plan B is already expecting my call.
“Unita it is. You need to make a reservation, sir.”
For privacy, I hit the button to section off the driving cabin from the back seat and pull out my phone to call my backup. Favors get you everything in this world.
“Luca?” The Beneventi hitwoman answers, but she’s not surprised by my call.
“Three won’t play.” In case someone has hyper-sensitive hearing, I lower my voice, occulting the truth between carefully chosen words. Steele, step three, turned down the hit, and if I know Isabella, she’s either going to do it herself or mess up and reach out to more people.
“Duh.” Her voice is groggy from sleep. “I told you that.”
“Can you fly in?”
“Yeah… In and out.” She’s hiding things herself. “When?”
“Thursday.”
“Okay. Gives me some time to set something up on my end. And the price?”
Steele turning it down and the risk of a Santini-led war against the Beneventis makes the one million irrelevant. Kelsie’s deadly and too intelligent to fuck with. She’s looking for a way out for her and Hayden, and money is the only way she can get it. “Three.”
“Deal.”
“I’ll text you the details. I’m going to say a silent prayer soon.”
“You want me to pop the Don in church?”
“It’s the best spot. Or there’s a Major Stein deal.” From the intel Isabella gave me, Santini is a religious man who always goes to confession after a weekly mass on Thursday night. Two men are with him, and usually, when he goes to the back for confession, they leave him in peace. Either that or she kills him when he’s surrounded by high-class hookers at Unita. He prefers to make those a party of two.
“Gross.” Even over the telephone, I can hear the shiver in disgust. “I rather not fuck someone to death again, especially not Santini.”
“Growing morals?”
“If I were, I wouldn’t be shooting the man during confession, now would I?” She grunts, “I’m not killing a fucking priest, though.”
“He’s expendable.” I catch myself before saying ‘and a witness.’ “Your brother may not be too happy about your visit.”
“Half-brother,” she hisses out. “And I’ll worry about Breaker. You worry about getting me my money.”
“Make sure there are no mistakes.”
“I don’t make mistakes, Luca. I’m usually the one who fixes other people’s screw-ups. Send me pictures of the church, and the other option, I assume, it’s a club?”
“Exclusive.”
“Send me details. I’ll make my decision based on layout.” She hangs up. No way in hell can I waltz right into Unita. I’ve never officially met any of the made men here, but Tony came from the East Coast. We’ve crossed paths a couple times.
The driver stops the car in front of a church with a Gustavino-style dome. Two flights of steps lead up to the main archway. To the right, another building annexed to the main building, slightly more modern and not of the same architecture. Though the lights are on, the mahogany door looks heavy and firmly shut.
The driver rolls down the partition. “The church is closed, sir.”
I make the sign of the Holy Cross across my forehead, chest, and shoulders. Then, open the car to get out. A woman, carrying a bag of trash, exits the side entrance. “I’ll be right back.”
“Miss?” I ask, startling her. At the sight of the limousine, she relaxes slightly. Rich people aren’t usually killers. Unless they’re in the Mafia.
“Yes?” She drops the black trash bag, and I reach into my pocket, bypassing the burner phone and holding up an imaginary coin between my fingers. At this distance, and in the dark, she can’t tell. “Do you mind if I light a candle for my sister?”
“Oh,” the woman looks over her shoulder and nods her head. “Just for a minute while I throw this out?”
/> I nod my head and jog toward her, while she heads to the back of the premises to where, I assume, the large trash containers are kept out of sight.
“Thank you,” I say as I duck inside. The church is huge, but I don’t have much time to get the layout. With my phone, I film as much as I can, careful to catch the section with the confessionals and the free-standing altar, while heading toward the electric candles. I kneel in front on the Holy Mother and pluck a couple of hundreds from my front pocket, dropping it in to the collection’s box with a silent apology for the trouble that will happen here.
“Sir,” she says softly from near the altar. “I have to close up. Would you mind?”
I shake my head. “Of course not.” Before getting up, I slide the burner phone out of my pocket and slip it under the small kneeling pew. I walk down the center aisle, taking a knee before the altar, which the woman finds endearing.
“Good night,” she says as I step outside.
“Thanks again for letting me pop inside.”
“No problem.” She shuts the door, locking it before she heads to her car. I take out my phone again, and film the exterior, pretending to snap a couple of photos and selfies in case anyone sees me.
“We can go now,” I announce.
“Sir, Unita is over there. But I can drive around the block, so you don’t give away your trip to the church. Do you have a reservation time?”
“Yes.”
After about thirty minutes of driving around and chatting with the nice man, he tells me he’s from Rome and wants to retire there with his wife of forty-three years. His broken English reminds me of my grandma, may she rest in peace. We return to Unita. He gets out and opens the door for me. I grab the fake ID from my wallet and a wad of cash to tip the driver. I leave the five hundred dollars on the seat and grab the bottle of Moet from inside.
“I wait until you come back, sir.”
“You don’t have to.”
“You pay all night. I stay.” He nods and shuts the door.
“Okay. I may be a while.” I fasten the center button of my suit and stretch the material as I survey the surroundings. I’m fucking exhausted from the travel, but I have to make sure she’s okay.
The street is lined with black SUVs with tinted windows, and parked in the reserved spot is a luxury Escalade with a tall man standing in front of it. Two men are at the door, and I’m guessing there are more inside. Being in Santini territory isn’t the best idea, but because he actually doesn’t know Bells and I are working together, me showing up could be a coincidence.
My father doesn’t give a shit about who I love, but he enjoys favors, and it must have taken a few to get him to agree to this. I’m sure he’d call one in for my safe return. Of course, getting caught isn’t an option.
“Can I help you, sir?”
I check my watch and give my reservation, “Physalis, eleven thirty. I’m a bit late, but my escort should be waiting.”
“Ah, yes. She’s in the Hex. The show only started ten minutes ago. We’ll escort you inside.”
The door flies open.
A young blonde woman with curves that could kill in black lingerie stumbles out, a bouncer shoving her outside by the elbow. Around her neck is the necklace Charlotte sent to her.
“I can walk, Tony.” She yanks her arm away from him. “That’s why I have two feet.”
Isabella as a blonde. I like it. My eyes linger on her legs.
The shirtless guy curls his finger toward the guy standing near the vehicle. “Vinnie.”
Ah…the bodyguard.
Tony glances in my direction but doesn’t recognize me. He steps into her personal space and whisper something in her ear, before he flicks his hands at the guard, waving them off. “Give us a minute.”
At his command, the bouncers disperse while I pull my phone out and pretend to take a call. Isabella’s escorted to the Escalade, and she leans against it while Tony and Vinnie exchange words.
She crosses her arms against her chest, the nightie rides up slightly. “Can we go home now?”
Tony and Vinnie turn to face her. “Now you’re in a hurry?”
I lean against the limo, resting my forearms on the hood while holding the phone up to my ear, somewhat blocking my face.
“Maybe I’m sleepy.”
Her disinterest puts a smile on my face. Keeping her voice monotonous defies them. She doesn’t realize she’s doing it; she thinks she’s playing the part, but it’s really hot. They try to shake her, and not even her voice trembles.
Oblivious to my presence, she rests her head against the car and brushes the tips of her fingers over her cheekbone, as if soothing her skin. “Did he fucking hit her?” I whisper to myself, as I step for Tony with a clenched fist.
The limo driver exits the car, stopping me with his question, “Sir, do you want to leave?”
Isabella’s eyes shoot in my direction, and panic erupts. She’s quick to react and cause a distraction. “Tony… Before we go, I have a question for you.”
“What?” Tony snaps back. “I told you—”
“Was the blonde woman with you in ‘The Hex,’” she air quotes for emphasis, “the one Beppe mentioned?”
Tony’s no longer interested in anything or anyone around him. She’s creating a scandal. Her eyes roll over to mine, telling me to get the hell out of there. I hesitate, but taking her with me now would ruin everything, and she’s fended for herself all her life. She doesn’t need me rescuing her.
“Get in the car!” Tony’s voice booms through the night air.
Vinnie opens the door for her.
I get back in the limo, evading the guard who too had been distracted, and drive off.
Chapter Ten
Lessons by Tony
Isabella Santini
What the hell was he thinking? I glare out the window, fuming on the inside. Luca could have gotten caught. Why would he come here after I told him not to?
Tony’s sitting down beside me, sending messages on his phone. Vinnie’s sitting in front of me, ankle hoisted on his knee, gun at hand. There’s a lot of silence in the car, which makes me jittery. I stretch my legs out to hide the anxiousness and tug at the short edges of my silk nightgown, ripping some of the black lace and catching Tony’s attention.
“You wore that on the street?” Considering just minutes ago he was shouting out me in the middle of the street, the gravelly tone mixed with the passiveness throws me off.
“Are you asking me because it annoys you?”
“I’m not annoyed, Isabella.”
“You could have fooled me back at Unita.”
He reaches over and sticks his finger in the hole, hoking the material and widening the hole. “Where did you get this?”
“Charlotte sent it to me.”
“I like it… now answer my question.”
“Yes, I wore it out outside.”
“Better. Now that you’re talking…Who did you wear this for?”
“You.”
“Liar…” He tugs on the material, ripping the it the rest of the way. The four-inch circular band hangs at my thighs, completely unattached to the skirt. “Try again.”
“I already answered you.” Lifting my thighs, I slide the band down my thighs and feet, using my heeled foot to bring it closer to me.
“Let me help you… my guys said you had a mister meeting you, and that he specifically asked for a room. I can’t figure out why you would be stupid enough to bring your lover into my club.”
“I didn’t know it was your club.”
“Did you do this to piss me off? Get back at me?”
“Do what? All I did was go to the club.”
“Fine… let’s start with how you got to the club.”
Why is he interrogating me? “I walked.”
Vinnie chimes in, “Where did you leave from? No one saw you leave the house.”
“I jumped the wall.” I’m not giving up my escape route. “At the end of the property.”
Tony smiles. “You jumped the wall in this?” He grabs the sleeve of my robe. “So delicate, isn’t it?” He jerks the material toward him, ripping it.
“Stop, Tony.” I curl my fingers around his hand and pry them off my lingerie. “What is wrong with you? I changed clothes.”
“In the woods?”
“Yes,” I confirm, knowing they probably found my bag. I left my jeans in the trash at the church.
“And you walked in those shoes?”
“Barefoot.”
Vinnie kneels down in front of me and slips my shoe off.
I lift my leg up, so he can examine the dirty soles. “Satisfied?”
He opens a hidden compartment in the center console and pulls out a pack of bleach wipes. “Here.”
I don’t even want to know why those are here. “Thanks.” I grab the half-empty pack and take a couple of sheets. “Are you done interrogating me now? Or do you want to keep ripping a piece of my robe every time you don’t like the answer?”
Vinnie returns back to his chair while I slip my other shoe off. Wincing as the solution enters the small cuts, I manage to wipe down my feet and toss the dirty naps into my cup holder. The wide sleeve is hanging on by a few threads, so I tug on it and slide it off my arm, throwing in Tony’s face.
Vinnie’s phone rings, shutting Tony up.
Shit. “Tony, we have to go back to Unita. I forgot my phone.”
“You just got it fixed and you’re already losing track of where you put it?” Tony smiles and points at Vinnie. “Who is it?”
Vinnie holds out my phone, so Tony and I can see the caller ID.
“So, no one was helping you get into my fucking club, huh?” He points at the phone. “Why is the wedding favor vendor calling you at this hour?”
Good question. Why the hell would Luca be calling me? He just saw me get in the car with them. Or did Tony follow him?
“Probably because it’s morning in Italy,” I remind Tony, who is looking at me between squinted eyes.
