by Bethany-Kris
Not that he was a Marcello—a made man; a capo for the mafia, and now, a fucking Cosa Nostra boss in waiting all because someone decided he was the right fucker for the job. She didn’t know his family, or the crushing weight that currently sat on his shoulders.
She didn’t know anything.
He liked that.
Haven was still staring at him even as Andino inched a little closer in the doorway, asking, “By the way, just how many stars are on your body? I got to twenty.”
She wet her lips.
Smiled.
Gave him that fiery look.
It made his dick hard.
“You must have been looking terribly close to count that many,” she murmured.
“I think some might be covered … even with that outfit. So, how many? Care to let me count them sometime?”
He wasn’t even playing now.
Andino wanted to get to the fucking point.
Haven shook her head, and nipped on her bottom lip. How this woman could seem innocent wearing the ensemble she currently wore, he didn’t fucking know. But she made it work, and he liked it far too much for his own good.
“You are something else, Andino.”
“I’m glad you—”
The ringing phone on the desk stopped Andino from saying more. Haven gave him an apologetic look, and then left him standing in the doorway and she moved to pick up the call. She didn’t tell him to go, though, so he stayed right where he was.
“Yeah, Haven here.” A beat of silence passed before worry colored her next words, “Oh, no, really? I thought you said Maria was doing better?”
Andino tipped his head to the side, and let his gaze travel along the curves of Haven’s thighs, and how that robe fell just high enough on the swell of her ass to show off a bit. He had missed two stars—the points of the stars peeked out just beneath the straps of the black leather curving around the bottom of her ass.
Twenty-two, then.
So far.
“The fever has gotten that high?” Haven asked.
Andino’s attention went back to her in an instant.
“Okay, no … don’t panic, I’ll come help. It just needs to break … no, I know you can’t go into an emergency room without paperwork, and … yeah, I’ll be there. Try to relax, okay? Give me twenty or so. Bye”
Haven hung up the phone, and didn’t even pass Andino a glance as she grabbed the jeans and sweater that had been tossed on the chair next to the wall. She was dressed in a flash, and grabbing the messenger bag hanging from a hook next to the door before she finally spoke to Andino again.
And it was only to say, “Sorry, I have to run. Maybe I’ll see you around, Andino.”
Damn.
Why was his luck so shitty lately?
“You better have a box of leftovers in the fridge,” Andino grumbled, passing his cousin by where John had stretched over the couch. Snaps trailed behind Andino, but was quick to go greet John who already had a piece of crust ready for the pup.
“Left you three pieces, asshole,” John replied. “You act like I always forget about you.”
Andino grumbled under his breath. “Good.”
He headed for the kitchen while John stayed put on the couch—probably watching that show he liked so much with the dragons and fire and craziness. Sure enough, he found the leftover pizza waiting for him on a plate, and not in the pizza box. That was typical John. The man couldn’t stand to have things be dirty or disorganized.
Throwing his plate in the microwave, Andino waited for the pizza to heat. By the time it was done, and he was back in the living room with his cousin, the television was playing commercials, and John had finished his pizza.
“You’re back late,” his cousin noted.
Andino fell into the recliner, and sighed. “I was out.”
“Famiglia business?”
“Sort of, and … not really.”
John lifted a brow. “Really, you … Andino, who only ever works and never does anything else … were doing something other than work?”
“I do other things, man.”
“Rarely.”
“Mind your own, John.”
John grinned from his reclined position, and tossed an arm behind his head. “Seriously, what were you doing?”
“I had to chat with a bookie.”
His cousin pointed a finger at him. “See, I told you that you weren’t out doing something for you. It’s always about work, Andi. You’re predictable.”
“And then I met someone.”
John stiffened on the couch. “Wait, like met a woman?”
“Something like that.”
“Listen, either she is a woman, or she isn’t. And you need to update me on your preferences because I didn’t know that kind of thing could change.”
Andino didn’t even think about it—he whipped the small decorative pillow behind his back, and hit John square in the face with it. “There’s your fucking update, asshole.”
John only laughed as he pushed the pillow away. “So, you met someone?”
“Maybe. It’s not Marcello business. Just … something to do.”
“I get that.”
And maybe he needed to tell someone.
John was good for that.
Andino gave his cousin a look. “You know, I think I might miss coming home to see your ass stretched out on my couch every day.”
“Don’t be like that. I’m looking forward to moving into my new place tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I know you are.”
John looked like he was waiting for Andino to say something—like everybody else always did to him. People voiced their concerns, or bothered the hell out of him to make sure he was doing everything he needed to do. Like he didn’t know how to take care of himself, or some shit.
Andino wasn’t one of those people.
He had his cousin’s back.
For everything.
“You need help tomorrow?” Andino asked.
John nodded. “I could use an extra pair of hands.”
“I’ll be there, then.”
FOUR
“How did the meeting go?” Haven asked the second Valeria walked through the door.
Her friend passed a look to her daughter, and then to Haven she replied, “Well, someone didn’t tell me the whole story about what went on.”
Five-year-old Maria huffed in her pretty pink dress, and crossed her arms over her chest as she glanced away from her mother with a humpf under her breath. “I was right.”
Haven had to force herself not to grin—as she was learning from Valeria, it was never good to let a kid think bad behavior was acceptable just because an adult found their antics cute. Give a kid an inch, and they would undoubtedly take a mile.
For the most part, Maria was a good little girl. Sweet, and cute. Loud a lot of the time, but quiet when it counted. She listened, and behaved when told. Haven had very few problems with Maria since she and her mom moved in with her.
“Anyway,” Valeria said, “The niñita here thought it was okay to tell her classmate that the way she ate her fruit was stupid.”
Haven literally had to press her lips together for that one to stop the laughter or smile. It made her words come out in a mumble. “Oh?”
Maria sighed loudly, and threw her tiny hands in the air. “She doesn’t even put sauce on it like my mamá’s! It’s gross.”
“Well, hot sauce on fruit is a little yucky,” Haven told the girl.
“Is not!”
“I kind of think it is.”
“Is not, Haven!”
Putting her hands on the countertop, Haven stared Maria down. “See, you didn’t like it very much when I said what you eat is wrong. Right?”
Maria quieted, and considered what Haven had said. Valeria, on the other hand, shot Haven a wink and a grin.
“Well, that’s not nice,” Maria eventually said.
Haven nodded. “And it’s not nice for you to say those things to someone else. Food is food—sure, we
can make it better or worse, but it’s still food, and everybody likes their own kind of food at the end of the day.”
“Still think it’s gross with no sauce.”
“But?” Valeria asked.
Maria let out another one of her loud, child-like sighs before saying in a monotone voice, “We don’t tell other people that.”
“That’s my good girl.” Valeria patted her daughter on the top of her black curls, and then added, “Take your backpack to your room, and I’ll be in to start your homework with you.”
“Okay, Mamá!”
Just like that, the issue was done and resolved. Maria was quick to skip off out of the kitchen with her sparkly pony backpack on her back, and her pretty white shoes clicking against hardwood the whole way.
Haven gave her friend a smile. “Kids?”
It was their way of explaining things that sometimes didn’t need much more of an explanation other than a single word to say it all. A lot of the time, that’s how it was with Maria and any issue that came up.
Kids were kids.
And kids did kid-like things.
Valeria nodded. “Yeah, chica, kids.”
Haven laughed. “You hungry?”
She gestured at the spread of food she had made for supper—porkchops, mashed potatoes, and mixed vegetables with gravy. It wasn’t much, but it was the best she could pull off after a run, and little time.
“I could eat,” Valeria said. “But you’re not dressed for home—more like the club.”
Haven glanced down at her skin-tight black leather pants, the flimsy crop top that showcased the tattoos on her stomach, and shrugged.
“Got a call earlier. Rita had an emergency. I need to go in and handle the bar since she won’t be in, and no one else can take it … unless you want to, of course?”
Haven put that offer to her friend as though she were dangling something sweet and juicy. It was the look on Valeria’s face that told her the answer.
“I would, but …” Tipping her head toward the door, Valeria said, “I have to take my days off for her when I can get them.”
“Yeah, I know.”
And it wasn’t like Haven would ask for anything different, either. Not from her friend. Valeria was a good mom that way.
Valeria made a face. “Sorry.”
“It is what it is, right? Hazard of being the owner and manager. I need to step up where others fall short, or plan for this.”
“Chica, you don’t even take days off,” Valeria replied, grabbing plates from the cupboard, and setting them on the counter. “Like … ever.”
“I try to take days off. It just rarely ever works out that way for me.”
“You should let Jackson hire another manager so you can step back a little from everything. Or even a temp one, Haven. Anything.”
The thought of that actually turned her stomach. It made her sick, and anxious, and nothing fucking good. What if they screwed up? What if her lack of attention and care for the business her father had struggled for years to maintain crumbled because she needed a break?
No way.
Not going to happen.
Haven decided to change the topic, and fast, because this just wasn’t something she even wanted to discuss. No one would truly understand how important it was to her that she keep Safe Haven successful, even if that meant she worked herself into a grave to do it.
She was fine with that, too.
“So, I forgot to mention something, by the way,” Haven said.
Valeria was busy piling the two plates with food, but still asked, “Oh, what’s that?”
“A few days ago—I ran into Mr. Three-Piece again.”
Her friend all but dropped the plate onto the counter, and her gaze cut to Haven fast. Curiosity and a sly grin stared back from Valeria. She’d told her friend about Andino—although at the time, she hadn’t known his name—shortly after their first meet. Valeria thought she was crazy to keep looking for the guy on every run.
Apparently, Valeria had been right.
It wasn’t another run where they ran into one another again.
“Did you now—where? Oh, wait, let me guess. Probably on the running trail again, right?”
“No, the club actually. The night I had to do your special.”
Valeria whistled low. “Damn. Bet that was not what he was expecting to see, huh?”
Haven laughed. “He wasn’t what I expected to see, either. To be fair.”
“Was he wearing a suit again?”
She smiled slyly. “He was.”
“Still gorgeous?”
“Very much so.”
Valeria grinned, and arched one perfectly manicured brow high. “Now, for the better question—did you get his number?”
“Didn’t get the chance.”
Her friend cursed. “Shame on you.”
Haven laughed, and shrugged. “I expect he’ll be back.”
“Oh?”
“I mean, he did seem to like what he saw.”
“On stage, or off?”
Haven smiled a little at the exchange she had with Andino after she’d been on stage, but also the way he’d watched while she was on stage as well. “I’d say both, actually.”
“Well, then. You do you, chica.”
That was usually the plan, yep.
Haven took the tip a customer slid across the counter to her, and put it in the jar while she wiped down the bar with a rag. She didn’t keep the tips when she helped out at the bar, instead saving them up, and then dividing them between the servers for the night. What the usual bartenders did with their tips was up to them, though.
Once the bar gleamed again, and the stools were cleared of patrons, Haven went to the next task of putting the liquor bottles back in their rightful spot.
She couldn’t say she was a great bartender, but she was decent enough. She could pull off about twenty drinks, and those were the most requested at the club. Should someone come in wanting something she hadn’t heard of, a simple app on her phone could give her all the ingredients and direction she needed to make the drink happen.
She still preferred to be in the office.
Or even … sometimes … on the stage.
“No dancing tonight?”
Haven felt a warm sensation slide down her spine at the familiar, dark tone. Like brown sugar, she thought. His voice was rich, and candy to her senses.
Andino.
She had been right.
He was back.
Turning around, Haven found Andino approaching the bar. He didn’t take a stool, but rather, stood on the other side of the bar with a grin that said he was happy he found her there.
“No dancing,” Haven returned. “I’m filling in elsewhere tonight.”
“That’s the mark of a good boss, then.”
Haven shrugged. “You could say that.”
“You work often, don’t you?”
“Never stops.”
“I know that life.” Andino muttered, glancing away.
Haven was quick to search the floor while she had the chance to. Surprisingly, she found that Andino’s bookie friend—or employee, or whatever the hell he was—wasn’t in the club. The bookie sat in the same spot whenever he came in, and currently, that table was empty.
That told her two things.
Andino hadn’t come for the bookie.
He had come for her.
Maybe she liked that a little bit.
“Twenty-three,” Andino murmured.
Haven glanced back at him at the sudden drop in his tone when he spoke. She realized then that he had been looking at her again while she searched the floor, but she had been too distracted to notice.
Huh.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Twenty-three stars so far. I missed one behind your ear.”
Her heart stopped for a split second—she swore it did. How was he still keeping track of how many stars she had tattooed on her body? Hell, she had stopped counting four years ago
when she got her twentieth.
Subconsciously, she moved to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, but forgot she had pulled her hair up into a high, messy bun to work the bar. Which explained how he had seen the star behind her ear, considering the last time they met, her hair had been down.
Andino grinned lazily.
On another man, she might think that cocky look wasn’t her thing. On him, though? It looked divine.
“You could save me the trouble,” Andino said, “and just tell me how many stars there are.”
Haven really shouldn’t be flirting while she worked. It was a rule she had for all the girls that worked the place—it was fine to smile, and whatever else, but lap dances, private rooms, and meets outside the club were strictly forbidden. They weren’t that kind of joint, and she didn’t even want to give the appearance that they were to begin with.
And yet, all she wanted to do in that moment was play with Andino—tease him a little, and give it back to him just as much as he was giving it to her. He made it easy, and fun. God knew it had been a long damn time since a man came around to perk her interest.
Haven always had too much to do.
Too much work.
Too much responsibility.
Too much everything.
Valeria was always telling Haven to take a break, or do something fun. To try something new, and get out of her comfort zone. Maybe this was something she could do that with—what would it hurt?
“Where’s the fun in me telling you how many stars are tattooed on my body,” Haven asked, “when you seem quite intent on finding them yourself, Andino?”
The man across the bar flashed his teeth in a wickedly sinful smile, and let out a husky laugh that made her wet between her thighs from the sound alone. It rocked through her body, and touched every single one of her nerves.
Jesus fucking Christ.
The man was several feet away.
A bar separated them.
He wasn’t even touching her!
And he made her wet.
Yeah, this could be fun.
“I mean,” Haven continued, shrugging her dainty shoulders, “your way seems a hell of lot more fun than just telling you. The game ends once you know.”
Andino shoved his hands in his pockets, and rocked back on his heels a bit. He turned his head to the side, giving her a glorious view of his strong jaw, green eyes, and all the hard lines of his face. The man really was beautiful. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days what with the dusting of facial hair covering his jaw and cheeks. She bet that scruff would feel some kind of good between her thighs.
