Franco holds the microphone out towards me, but I demure, stumbling as I step back towards the stairs. As I walk down the aisle between the tables, the huge check snags on chairs. The corner even grabs a woman’s purse, knocking it to the ground. I feel like a clumsy buffoon as I struggle to get to my chair.
Salvatore stands and places both hands on my shoulders. “Three,” he whispers into my ear.
Before I can register this, he kisses me, right there in front of everyone.
Chapter Twelve
Salvatore
Driving back from Bel Air, the comically large check is wedged in the backseat of my car. A rough corner juts into the front seat, and Molly keeps hitting her head on it, no matter how I try to adjust it. I’d hoped that after today, I’d have a chance with Molly, but I’m afraid Franco’s theatrics are ruining my game.
She’s distant and quiet. There’s a shell-shocked look in her eye. I concentrate on the road ahead, trying to figure out where I went wrong. She needed money, didn’t she? And I got it for her. She should be so grateful that she’s ravenous for my cock. It seems that Franco’s act of charity has freaked her out. She glances hesitantly at the huge check in the backseat.
“Don’t worry about lugging that into a bank,” I say. “Franco will wire the funds to the center. I’ll take that thing to dump for you.”
“Did you know he was going to do that?”
“I had an idea.”
“You could’ve warned me.”
“It was supposed to be a surprise.”
She raises both eyebrows. “It was.”
I merge onto the busy highway. “It looks like your income problem is taken care of.”
Molly sighs. “I don’t know. The counselors need a raise. We need new carpet, and a new air conditioner-“ She stops herself, and looks up at me tentatively like she’s said too much. “I don’t mean to seem ungrateful. That was very generous of Franco. It was just out of the blue.”
“I see,” I say, leaning back in the driver’s seat. “You don’t like being onstage?”
She bites her lip. “That’s part of it.”
When we get to the apartment building, I walk her to her door. She slips inside quickly, then peeks out the open door. Her expression has changed. There’s anger in her eyes.
“Franco’s older, but he’s not unwell,” she says in an accusatory tone. “How long do you intend for this to go on?”
I show myself inside and she doesn’t stop me. The door swings closed with a final thud, leaving us alone. Molly takes a step away from me.
“This?” I step towards her. “This…what?” I want to hear her say it.
“This-“ she inhales sharply. “Fake relationship.”
I reach out slowly and take her hand. “Do you want it to end?”
She hesitates, her eyelashes fluttering over her cheekbones. I can see in her face that she doesn’t want this to end, not truly. It’s barely even begun. Taking a chance, I step closer to her, smelling the soft sent of her shampoo.
“Those kisses didn’t feel fake,” I say. “Were you faking it, Molly?”
“It was pretend. I was acting.”
I trail my fingertip up her arm, watching the goosebumps spread over her skin. “Are you faking it now?” I bring my hand to the back of her head, where I tangle my fingers in her luscious curls. I bend down, my face inches from hers, desperate to taste her. Her breath is quick and shallow. I know she wants me too. “So you don’t want to pretend anymore. Neither do I. Say you want me, Molly. I want to see the words on your pretty lips.”
She gasps, unable to speak.
“Say it,” I order her.
Her lips part as she studies my face. “I want to go to bed. Alone.”
I step back, dejected. I thought I had her where I wanted her. She walks to the other side of the room, her hands clenched into fists.
“You’re just trying to get into my pants,” she accuses, shaking her fist at me. “You’re not interested in me.”
I scoff. “Not interested? Are you blind?”
She shakes her head. “I’m on to you, Sal, your manipulation. It’s not going to work on me. I’m a counselor, remember?”
When she looks at me now with her clear-eyed stare, I feel exposed. I’ve always been able to manipulate people into doing what I want. I underestimated her perceptiveness.
I clench my teeth to keep from growling. “If you understand me so well, what’s the game, then?”
I give her a cocky grin, but a part of me is terrified that she’ll be able to guess my motives.
“My guess?” Molly says, cocking her head. “You’re using me to get into your uncle’s will. He won’t leave you anything if you’re single. Those other guys, Snake and Bruno, they’re married. And they’re pissed you’re trying to get a piece of the pie.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Looks like you got a large piece yourself.”
She purses her lips. Her eyes light up with anger. “I never asked for that.”
“That was an interesting story you spun, but I don’t need that old man’s money.” I breathe heavily. My yearning for her has twisted my senses. I can’t think straight. All I want, in this moment, is to own her. “And I don’t give a fuck about your rent. You can stay here as long as you like and not pay a dime for all I care.”
“Oh my God. You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
Molly’s confident posture waivers. That’s right, I think. Give in. Live here. Be mine.
She lifts her chin haughtily. “Well, I’m not doing that. And I’ll pay you back the discount you gave me.”
I shrug, not giving away how much this affects me. “If you change your mind, the offer still stands.”
Her eyes narrow as she studies me. “Why, why would do that? Because you want leverage over me, so I’ll do your bidding whenever you ask?”
Fuck. She’s in my head. She knows my moves. My face is still, not showing one crack in my facade. I nod in her direction, and go for the door. But I can’t leave it like this, with her having the upper hand. So, I try something new. I tell her something very close to the truth.
“I chose you, Molly,” I say. “I can think of a dozen women, off the top of my head, who would’ve pretended to be my girlfriend for free. I chose you because I wanted you. And I still do.”
My own words surprise me. When I watch her, standing there, fiddling with the hem of her skirt, I realize how true they are. I leave, quickly, before anything else can be said.
In my apartment, I pour myself a glass of scotch, and settle into my armchair. What the hell is happening to me? Why should I care if Molly doesn’t want to fuck me? I could just move on to someone else. But I can’t.
I think about her just down the hall. What’s she doing right now? What’s she wearing? I find myself thinking about her more and more. This isn’t a sexual conquest anymore. I want her body, and her heart and soul too. This is turning into an obsession.
But how do I get her? She’s too smart for my tricks, and can’t be swayed by seduction alone. Maybe, if I level the playing field, or if she thinks I’ve leveled the playing field, she’ll become more pliable.
I swirl the scotch around my tongue, savoring the burning sensation. Miss Molly, you’re about to find out that I don’t give up that easily. In fact, I don’t give up until I get exactly what I want.
Chapter Thirteen
Molly
For the rest of the weekend, I’m a prisoner in my own apartment. Every time I hear someone in the hallway, my stomach twists into knots. I run to the peephole to make sure it’s not Sal coming to torture me further. I don’t go on the internet. I still have the irrational fear that he’s somehow spying on me through my computer, so I entertain myself with analog games of solitaire. The counselor voice in my head scolds me, saying that Sal isn’t in charge of my life. He only has power if I give it to him, but I can’t stop myself from doing just that.
It’s not that I’m scared of what he’ll do. I’m s
cared that I’m not strong enough to resist him. After the barbecue, when he dropped me off here, I’d been so close to saying, Fuck it, and dragging him into my bedroom. He’s so handsome, and with his gaze burning with desire, every inch of my body throbbed for him. Luckily, I was too freaked out about the huge check to go through with something like that. But if he tempts me again, will I be strong enough to turn him down?
I’m so happy when Monday morning rolls around. I look forward to being at the office all day, and not having Sal right down the hall. I leave my apartment earlier than usual, just in case he was planning on surprising me. The apartment building is quiet at this hour. No one stirs in the hallway. I check the peephole, making sure all is clear, then open the door. After taking one step, I nearly trip over the box at my feet.
My body goes numb. It’s the same crimson dress box that I’d returned to him. I cast a nervous glance towards his door, then drag the box into my apartment.
I pull off the lid. There’s a note on top of the folded dress, and another piece of paper stapled to the back.
You looked beautiful in this, and you should to keep it. You can afford it now. -S
I flip the note over to read the next page. It’s a detailed invoice. Sal’s charging me for the dress, the underwear set, and back pay on my rent. Scrawled on the bottom of the bill, in Sal’s neat, swooping handwriting, is another note that reads, Now you don’t owe me anything.
At first, the gesture pisses me off. What’s the point of this? Is he just being an asshole? Is he teasing me for the very real issues I brought up when we argued the other night? I haphazardly pack everything back into the box, and throw the lid on top.
On my walk to work, however, my attitude softens. It’s a clear, sunny day. Birds chirp, and butterflies flutter around, drinking from the Tupelo trees that are planted on the street. The calm, bright atmosphere makes me feel more generous.
Maybe, I hypothesize, just maybe, Sal’s not trying to be a jerk. Perhaps, in his twisted way, the bill is meant as a kind gesture. I’d said that I was uncomfortable being in his debt, and Sal has fixed that. If that’s the case, what’s he trying to say? That he really is interested in me? It seems silly that a man like Sal would go to so much trouble just for a one night stand. He could easily move on to another woman. Why’s he trying so hard?
I shake my head fiercely, and push open the door of the center. I can’t think like that. I can’t give in to Sal’s tricks. I can’t risk being vulnerable.
Greg beams at me from his desk. I pretend I don’t see him, and dash into the break room. While I’m stirring sugar into my coffee, I hear footsteps entering. I know it’s him.
“How was your weekend?” I ask, casually sipping my coffee.
Greg is still smiling brilliantly. It’s like he can’t stop, even when he attempts to be snarky. “You really want to ask where I went for brunch?” he asks.
He’s clutching his phone, and he shows me the screen. He has the center’s bank balance pulled up. I gasp as the hot coffee burns my mouth. We’re one hundred thousand dollars richer.
“We’re going to talk about this.” Greg points to his phone, his smile growing even bigger. “I nearly shit myself when I saw this. Did you know it was coming?” He searches my face, waiting for me to match his intense enthusiasm.
I blink rapidly, hiding behind my coffee cup. It’s still too hot, and I take a sip that’s much too big. I choke on the scalding liquid, and spit it back in my cup. Greg’s smile falls slightly. His eyes narrow with confusion.
“Good morning, guys,” comes a chirpy voice.
It’s Cora. I could kiss her now for this blessed interruption. But Greg’s having none of it.
“Nope,” he announces, then gently puts his hand on Cora’s arm, leading her towards the exit. “Cora, I love you, you’re fantastic, your outfit is hot, but you have to get out.” He disposes of an amused, but confused, looking Cora into the hallway. He turns to me, placing his hand on his hip. “Talk,” he orders.
I tuck my hair behind my ear, looking at my feet. “I found out about it this weekend.”
Greg sighs. “Okay, and you didn’t call me immediately, but I’ll overlook that for now.” His expression hardens as he plays the part of interrogator. “What’s the MTB Giving Fund? Did you reach out to them?”
I close my eyes, and blurt out the answer. “It was started by Sal’s uncle, Franco Mariano. It was his donation.”
Greg rubs his hands together, nodding, like he’s broken the case. “Sal? I see. What a man.” He gets a dreamy look in his eye, like he’s picturing Sal in his mind. I want to shake him and tell him not to conjure my landlord. “So, it’s getting serious.”
“It’s not like that,” I insist.
“Give me a break,” Greg says, rolling his eyes. “A hundred k isn’t serious enough for you?”
“It wasn’t Sal’s donation.”
“Right, right,” Greg says, sarcastically. “I’m sure Sal had nothing to do with it.” He takes my hand endearingly. “Honey, you don’t give that kind of cash to someone unless you want to wife them up.”
“Wife. I don’t think so.” My shoulders tense up to my ears. I fidget with my coffee straw. “It’s not serious. I swear. I’m thinking about dumping him anyway.”
Greg’s face falls in absolute devastation. “Why?” he whines.
“Because-“ I purse my lips, trying to find the words. I can’t articulate my reasons for fearing Sal. On paper, he’s really done nothing wrong. He’s been nothing but generous to me.
“Put the coffee down,” Greg says, taking the paper cup from me. He puts his hands on my shoulders, leveling his eyes with mine. “Molly, please don’t turn into one of those people who sabotage their own happiness. I see it a lot with compassionate people. You feel so much for those who are suffering that you don’t think you deserve good things in your life.”
I look away, immediately dismissing this idea. “I’m not one of those people. I want to be happy.”
Greg places his hand on my heart, and lowers his voice. “Then stay out of your own way.”
The interrogation finally ends. Greg and I go to our desks and get to work. In my head, I continue our conversation. I don’t sabotage my own happiness. That’s insane. The whole reason I’m here is because I chased my dreams. And even though I want Sal, I can’t let myself have him because-
Even in my one-sided argument, my excuses for thwarting Sal seem flimsy. I think he’s going to break my heart, that he’s going to lose interest in me. He got his uncle to give a huge donation to the center for fuck’s sake. He was trying to be kind, to make me happy. And then, there was that thing Sal said, right before he left my apartment. He said he chose me. That should make me happy, shouldn’t it? A handsome, well off, exciting man chose me.
But I’m not happy. Why?
Shit. Maybe Greg has a point.
*
Salvatore
Before walking into the concrete shop, I straighten my freshly pressed suit jacket, and brush off a few pieces of lint from the sleeves. A lesser man would be nervous right now, but I know better than to cloud my headspace with doubt. Everything is going perfectly. I worked my way back in with the Mariano’s. My plan is to sow discord among the ranks, which shouldn’t be a problem. At the barbecue, Bruno had hinted at the fact that he’s not happy with the way things are going, and wants someone like me to shake things up. Bruno is one of Snake’s most trusted soldiers. If I can get the Beast on my side, it will make it that much easier to rip this family apart from the inside out.
Things are going perfectly, even if I haven’t fucked Molly yet. But that’s just a matter of time. I’m still working on her. And I like that she’s not making it easy for me. She’s a challenge, which I fucking love.
I swing the door open and walk confidently into the concrete shop. The entire crew is here. Dozens of soldiers sit around round tables set up in the middle of the warehouse. Everyone goes quiet when they see me. I get a quick rush that
feeds off of their fear and insecurity. I take a seat at Snake and Bruno’s table with an attitude like I own the place.
“It feels good to be back,” I say, breaking the heavy silence. I nod to Bruno, then look at Snake. “Did you miss me as much as I missed you?”
Snake clenches his teeth, glaring at me suspiciously. “Got your tribute?”
I smile, watching his eyes darken with hate. “Got it right here.” I reach into my jacket, pull out a fat wad of cash, and throw it on the table in front of him. “That’s from my own pocket as a show of good faith. Once I get a racket up and running, I’ll be generating more cash soon.”
Snake keeps his eye on me, gathering up the money. He wears an annoying fucking smirk as he thumbs through the bills. “Bruno,” he says, gesturing for the beast to lean closer to him. He whispers something that I can’t hear, then turns to me, pointing towards his office. “Can we talk?”
“Sure thing, capo,” I say.
I stand up, then swing my arm out, telling him to go first. There’s no way I’m walking in front of him so he can plunge another knife into my back. We walk into his office, the one he stole from my father, I struggle to keep to my cool. Snake was my best friend, more like a brother, really, so his betrayal cut deeply. Now, hating him is as easy as breathing. I want nothing more than to inflict excruciating pain onto him. But my time will come. For now, I need to play the part of the reformed mafioso.
Snake stands behind his desk, one hand on his gun, the other pointing to me. “I’m warning you right now, you better not be up to something.”
“Whoa,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. “Already with the accusations. Hand to God, I’m not up to anything.”
Snake exhales sharply out of his nose. “I hope, for your sake, you’re telling the truth.”
“I am. So, is that it?”
I turn towards the door, but Snake stops me.
“That’s not it,” he says.
I turn back to him. He’s looking down at the desk, his tough guy act has faded. “For the record,” he starts, looking up at me. “I’m sorry about Monty. I had orders. I had no choice. Rats die. Monty wasn’t above that.”
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