“Thank you,” I tell her.
I let go of Lucy’s hand and reach for a chair, sliding it out for her to sit down. Of course, she raises an amused brow and sits down in the opposite chair instead.
“You know…” I smile and take my seat. “Last night may not have been a date, but tonight… you should really cut a gentleman some slack.”
She holds back a grin. “Well, I may not be the only one who needs to revisit the laws of chivalry. Last I checked, a gentleman usually knocks instead of breaking and entering into a lady’s private residence.”
“No, that’s allowed,” I say. “It only would have been rude if I peeked in on you while you were changing.”
She pauses. “Did you?”
“No.”
“Oh, well!” She sits back, smirking with sarcastic delight. “I guess we’re okay, then.”
“Good.”
The server arrives — a young man with dark features and a thick, Sicilian accent — and offers us both a glass of wine and a pair of menus of glance over. I notice the light bulge in his jacket where a small pistol lies hidden in a holster wrapped around his shoulders. The mark of a mob restaurant — even the wait staff is packing heat.
I smile as Lucy notices the same thing.
“Hold on…” she murmurs softly after he walks away. She looks around, twisting her neck so far it might break. “Is everyone here a criminal?”
“Almost,” I answer, truthfully. Her eyes grow wider, locking on the faces at the tables surrounding us. “Don’t stare, Lucy. You wouldn’t want to get whacked.”
Her head whips forward and she stares at her wineglass instead. “Right…”
I admire the adorable flush of her cheeks for a moment. “You can look at me.” I chuckle.
Her face turns up, her pink rouge shining in the red-tinted lamps above our heads.
“Just be cool, Lucy.”
“You brought me to a mafia hideout for dinner?” she whispers.
“I brought you to a nice place for dinner.”
“A nice place owned by the mob.”
“I challenge you to find a nice place in Chicago that isn’t.”
She pauses to chew on her lip, concentrating hard to keep her eyes on me. “Just be cool, huh?”
“Graceful. Elegant. Poised,” I say. “You know, all the things you claimed to be last night.”
“Is that doubt I hear rolling off your tongue?”
“Maybe.” I smile, reacting to the tough, Chicago accent seeping through her teeth. “You going to prove me wrong?”
Lucy picks up her wineglass. “I assure you, Mr. Hart… I have grace and elegance coming out of my ass.”
I laugh as a hand slaps my shoulder.
“God, I love a pretty broad with a dirty mouth!”
I look up to find Enzo Zappia lingering over me in a dark burgundy suit, looking exactly like his old man minus about twenty years.
“Enzo!” I greet, extending my hand to him as I gesture around with the other. “This place is wonderful. You’ve done a fine job.”
He whips my wrist like he’s herding cattle and then lays his hand on his chest. “It tickles me to hear you say that, Hart. I’m honored you could make it tonight.”
I lean toward him an inch. “Well, your father didn’t give me much choice.”
Enzo laughs, the sound carrying across the entire room, but no one bats an eye. He’s a Zappia, after all, and the owner. He can do whatever the fuck he wants.
“But this—” He points at Lucy. “This beauty must have been worth the effort.”
“She’s certainly proving to be.” His hand slips from my shoulder and he extends it across the table toward her. “Lucy, this is Lorenzo Zappia.”
Her brow twitches at the name and I detect sly malice behind her eyes. Perhaps bringing her to spend the night out amongst the people who gave her father a gambling addiction and tried to kill him over it wasn’t the wisest of decisions.
Still, she throws on a pleasant smile and nestles her fingers in his.
“It’s a pleasure,” she says.
Enzo leans over and kisses her knuckles, a move that probably infuriates her, but she keeps her cool. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms…”
“Vaughn.”
He stands up, smiling wide as he releases her hand. “Ms. Vaughn,” he repeats, shifting his eyes back to me. “Hart, you let me know if you or the lady need anything.”
I nod. “Of course.”
Enzo glides away, laying a soft hand on her bare shoulder as he swings by. I expect Lucy to say something as soon as he’s out of earshot, but she keeps quiet, her eyes purposefully locked on mine, and brings her glass to her lips for a stiff sip.
“What?” I ask her, sensing the words building on the tip of her tongue.
“Nothing,” she murmurs between sips. She takes her time, pouring a healthy amount down her throat before setting the glass down. “I’m just sitting here… acting poised.”
“I can tell.”
She inhales a quick breath and her posture sags. “Not only did you bring me to a mob restaurant—”
“Lucy—”
“—you brought me to a mob restaurant where I’d be surrounded by the very men who tried to have my father killed.”
“I regret nothing.”
“I should stab you with my fork.”
“You’re welcome to try.”
Lucy lets herself look around again, obviously not caring anymore about whom she might offend. “This is fucked up, you know that, right?”
I pinch the stem of my wineglass. “Come now, Ms. Vaughn. If being around killers actually bothered you, you never would have agreed to spend the evening with me. Again.”
“What makes you think it doesn’t?”
“That look in your eyes.”
“What look in my eyes?”
“The one you’ve had since the moment I kissed you tonight.”
She falls silent and I take a victory sip of wine — perhaps prematurely, but it tastes delicious all the same. “Being a decent fuck doesn’t vindicate you of wrongdoing, Mr. Hart.”
“I never said it did, Ms. Vaughn.”
“You see, this is the problem with gangsters in this city,” she says, her voice firm but low. “Their entitlement to own things they hold no claim over.”
“You feel I believe I’m entitled to you?”
“Why wouldn’t you be?” she asks. “I’m curious, exactly how much money did you shell out to spend last night with me?”
I bite my lip, holding back my grin. “A lot.”
“Was it worth it?”
“Yes.”
“Every penny?”
“I’d pay it all again, Lucy. And more.”
“You’re psychotic.”
“You’re perfection.”
She heaves a frustrated sigh. “And I can’t be bought.”
“You wouldn’t be worth it if you could be.” I smile, seeing the tug of her own mouth betraying her. “Lucy, I did not bring you here tonight to show you off as my trophy nor to boss you around as my slave. I certainly didn’t bring you here to impress you or offend you. I asked you to accompany me tonight because I had to be here, and I couldn’t stomach it alone. I wanted you here with me to make my night a little easier.”
Her green eyes twinkle in the candle’s flame, growing softer with every word I say.
I keep talking, luring her in. “You’re light on the eyes, fun to talk to, and speaking of decent fucks…”
She laughs but quickly covers her mouth with one hand.
I take hold of my glass again. “Now, can we please cut the bullshit and enjoy our evening together?”
Lucy narrows her gaze, knowing she’s completely trapped but she likes it. “Fine.” She reaches for her drink. “But I’m not dancing for you again.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking.”
“Thank you.”
We take a sip of wine while we eye each other across the table. I detect the des
ire building within her green irises, that same fiery spirit I saw just before she let herself touch me last night. She knows as well as I do she’ll end up in my bed again and it doesn’t frighten her at all. In fact, she wants it. Perhaps even more than I do.
I lick my lips, my senses erupting at the mere thought of tasting her fine pussy again. It takes every bit of my control not to bend her over this fucking table and take a bite of that perfect ass right here and now.
Laughter carries over the tepid room, once again booming from Enzo’s powerful Italian lungs. Lucy twists around to see him standing in front of a large table at the far corner, this one sitting upon a platform by the windows near the entrance. There’s another uproar of laughter as the men around the table join his fun. I pause, sensing the questions on Lucy’s lips while her eyes linger on them.
“Who’s that?” she asks me as she turns back.
I clear my throat, glancing over her shoulder again. “The young man is Marty Zappia.”
“And the old guy?”
She already knows. I can see it in her steady eyes.
“That is Antony Zappia.”
“The Mr. Zappia?”
“Yes.” The asshole who sent me to kill her father. “Lucy, let’s—”
“I want to meet him.”
I blink, shaking my head at the sudden request. “That’s not the kind of table you walk up and introduce yourself to—”
She tosses her napkin off her lap and quickly stands up.
“Lucy—”
She dodges my reach and slips away from the table with fast, precise feet. I growl softly in frustration as I struggle to catch up to her before she steps up onto the platform. Her sudden presence draws the eyes of the entire table and Zappia’s guards reach for their concealed weapons.
“Good evening, Mr. Zappia,” Lucy announces, smiling politely. She extends her hand toward his confused, old face. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m—”
I snatch her hand from the air and draw her away from the table, gesturing to his bodyguards that I have the situation under control.
“My deepest apologies, Mr. Zappia,” I say quickly with a forced, well-meaning chuckle. I keep a tight grip on Lucy as she tries to tug away. “My date has had a touch too much wine, I think.”
“Hart…” Zappia’s eyes stay locked on Lucy, twisting between annoyance and growing curiosity. “That’s quite all right. I’m sure we all will by the time this evening is over…”
“Excuse us.”
Lucy digs her heels into the floor and jerks out of my grasp. “Mr. Zappia, if you don’t mind, I’d like a minute of your time—”
I slide in front of her to meet her eyes, firing a hard look at her. “I’m sure Mr. Zappia doesn’t need—”
“Let the young lady speak, Hart,” he interrupts me and gestures to Enzo. “Don’t just stand there. Pull up a chair for the girl.”
I furrow my brow at her smiling face. She doesn’t even waver as she stares up at me. I don’t know whether to kiss her or slap some sense into her.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Zappia,” she says. “I’ll only be a minute.”
Enzo sets a chair down on the outside of the table and Lucy lowers herself into it. I stay behind her with my hand on the back of her neck just in case I have to snap it.
“Now…” Zappia curls his wrinkled lips. “What can I do for you, young lady?”
She grins. “I just wanted to meet the man whose been taking advantage of my father for the last ten years.”
Goddammit, Lucy.
I dig my fingertips into her skin. She doesn’t even flinch, but Zappia sure does.
“I beg your pardon?” he asks from the corner of his mouth.
Marty shifts awkwardly in his chair. His shocked eyes bounce from his father’s face to hers and back again with nervous apprehension. Of all the things he’s witnessed since diapers, I imagine watching his old man gun down a pretty girl in a crowded restaurant might be something new. He glances at his watch. There’s fresh tension in the air and every person within earshot of the table falls deathly silent.
“My father is Terrance Vaughn, sir,” Lucy continues, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. “He’s been gambling in your casino since I was a child.”
“Vaughn…” he murmurs, scratching his bearded chin. “The dancer man?”
“Yes.” She keeps her eyes straight forward, ignoring the titter falling off Marty’s lips.
“Ah.” He looks her up and down with his own smirk. “You somehow feel I am responsible for his addiction, yes?”
“No, sir. My father is responsible for his own actions,” she answers. “However, I do feel a man of your intelligence should know better than to enable people like him who clearly need to seek help.”
“People like him are how I stay in business, young lady.”
“Then, you do admit to taking advantage of him.”
“I never denied it,” he says. His amused eyes bounce up to me for a brief second. “And besides, the last I checked, your father’s debt had been paid-in-full.”
“Yes. By me,” she says, lying through her teeth. “And I would appreciate it if the next time my father wanders into your casino, you have the decency to throw him back out.”
Zappia chuckles for longer than necessary. “I’m not in the business of turning away paying customers, my dear. Especially not ones as eager to lose their money as your father is…”
Lucy leans forward an inch. I guide her back with my firm grip on her neck. “It’s disappointing to hear you say that, sir. I somehow expected a man of your status and means to be less of a coward.”
I dig my nails in. “Lucy…”
“Young lady…” he says with seething eyes. “I believe I’ve entertained you long enough.”
I grasp her arm to pull her out of the chair, eying the men around us all too willing to do the same. “I apologize, sir,” I tell him. “I’ll see to it that she never addresses you again.”
“I’ll gamble for him myself.” Her voice makes everyone pause. “I’ll take on your best poker player. If I win, you bar my father for life. If I lose, you can continue bleeding every last dime he has.”
Zappia rubs his silver beard as the amusement returns to his eyes. “Well, now…”
Marty leans forward in his seat. “I’d be happy to take on her challenge.”
His eyes linger far too long on her breasts and I fight the urge to pluck them out of his fucking skull.
“Ms. Vaughn…” Zappia chuckles softly. “I find your offer intriguing.”
“I thought you would,” she says.
“Stop by my casino sometime and we’ll continue this little chat…”
Quick movement rushes through my peripheral vision, alerting me to the three men piling out of a dark sedan on the street outside.
“I’ll do that,” she says. “Thank you, sir.”
Black metal glimmers beneath streetlamps as they each raise an AK-47 and point it at the window.
“Get down!” I shout.
I force Lucy to the floor and kick Zappia’s table onto its side to shield her from the windows.
Marty dives behind it and Zappia does the same as bullets come firing in, shattering the glass into a thousand pieces. I throw myself over Lucy, covering her completely as screams ring out behind us. Many men do as I did and topple their tables over to block the hits. Our table lurches with each blast but the bullets don’t penetrate through.
“Dante!”
I hold Lucy closer to me, wrapping my arms around her head until the firing ceases and tires squeal down the street.
Enzo leaps to his feet and withdraws his sidearm from his coat, shouting obscenities as he races out the front door with a few other men.
“Lucy…” I hold her pale face in my hands. “You okay?”
She nods and I feel her heart racing even faster than it did when she called Antony fucking Zappia a coward to his face.
I kiss her forehead a
nd look out over the table to make sure it’s safe before pulling her to her feet. She clings to my jacket with both hands as I check her from head to toe for any spots of blood.
“Nice reflexes,” Marty mutters at me. He reaches down and helps his father to his feet.
Enzo rushes back in, rage turning his face a bright shade of red. “Motherfuckers…”
Marty stares out the broken window. “The Lutrova brothers…” he says. “Who else would it be?”
Enzo kicks the fallen table and fires an annoyed glance at his little brother. “And you didn’t want me to splurging on the bulletproof tabletops…”
Marty turns away while smoothing his jacket down. “Wouldn’t have needed them if you got the bulletproof windows instead like I told you to.”
Zappia throws up his hands. “Quit bickering,” he barks at them. “Go smooth this shit over.”
Enzo and Marty step off the platform together, firing soft arguments back and forth while they help frightened patrons to their feet.
“No one’s wounded…”
Lucy’s whisper reaches my ears and I look around as she does. She’s right. Not one stray bullet hit anyone. In fact, most of the bullets struck Zappia’s table only.
There was one obvious target here and he’s staring back at me with wrinkled, gray eyes.
Zappia nods, his way of saying thank you for knocking over the table just in time to save his brains from splattering the wall, but I didn’t do it for him.
I take Lucy’s quivering hand. “Come on.”
We gather her clutch from our table, and I get her out of here as fast as we can move.
Chapter 11
Dante
I take Lucy home with me. Her body language — a mixture of silence and soft trembling — tells me she’s not in the right state to be in her apartment alone. I don’t want her by herself anyway based on the shitty neighborhood she lives in. She’s more than capable of handling herself, obviously, but getting shot at is hardly the norm for her.
She walks in around me and I do my usual quick scan of the block before following her inside.
Lucy pins me to the door before I even get a chance to lock it behind us. Her lips crush mine with a hard, life-affirming kiss. I hold her against me, feeling tremors shake her entire body. I realize that she hasn’t been trembling from fear since the moment we walked out of that restaurant.
Tainted Love Page 6
