Andrei: A Dark Mafia Romance (Dark Mafia Kingpins Book 1)

by Naomi West

  I smile at him. “That’s flattering, thank you. If I see you again, can my fiancé come too?”

  He looks mildly surprised at that, but not mad. He looks down and shakes his head. “If I say yes, will I see you again?”

  I give him a tight smile and hold the card out to him. He takes it back.

  “I had to give it a shot,” he says. “Congratulations. He’s a lucky guy.”

  I smile at him, grateful that he is taking the rejection so graciously. Many men don’t know how to take no for an answer. They think the bottle girls are part of the merchandise, and well… actually, some of the girls kind of are.

  But not me.

  My shift ends at 3:30 in the morning. In the rear changing room, I change into some comfy sneakers, then count out my tips with the girls and split them up. I hurry out to the bar before leaving. It’s last call and the crowd is slowly dwindling.

  “Elijah, hey, I’m heading out,” I say to the bartender.

  “One for the road,” he says, presenting me with a bottle of vodka. It’s Jeremy’s favorite high-end brand, so I pick up a bottle up for him from time to time. I can’t wait to get home. It’s been a long night.

  I drive the twenty minutes it takes to get home, let myself into the apartment, and walk straight through to the kitchen. The lights are out, so I figure Jeremy is asleep already. That’s usually how it goes. He used to wait up for me, but it’s been a long time since he did that.

  I’m setting down the bottle of vodka when I notice an unfamiliar set of keys on the counter. I pick them up. Mine are in my purse, and I know they aren't Jeremy’s unless he suddenly gained a liking for cat-shaped key rings. He wouldn’t have left them here on the counter anyway. Two people live in this apartment. If the keys aren’t mine and they aren’t Jeremy’s either, then...

  My mind slows down and everything in the room becomes heightened. The cool metal of the keys in my hand, my coat that I haven’t taken off yet, my heart pounding behind my ribs loud enough I can hear it…

  I put the keys down and walk slowly out of the kitchen. The feeling that there is someone else in the house makes the hairs on my arms stand up. I turn on the light in the hallway.

  Jeremy and I have two bedrooms and a guest bathroom. Way too much for us, I thought in the beginning, until Jeremy revealed that the second bedroom was for me to use as a home office. Never had any of my boyfriends in the past taken my passion for fashion design as seriously as Jeremy did. I love that about him.

  But the other things that I love about him are a little hard to think about at the moment as I look down the hallway.

  Something is wrong. It’s the way you feel when someone moves your stuff around when you were gone and the whole vibe is off somehow, though you can’t quite put your finger on exactly what it is.

  All the doors are closed but I hear something coming from behind the door of the master bedroom. I hold my breath and take a slow, deliberate step forward.

  Squeak.

  Squeak.

  Squeak.

  It’s coming from behind the master bedroom door. There is only one thing in the room that could make that sound and the only time it makes that sound is when there are two people on it.

  Our squeaky bed is an inside joke. We’re hanging onto it because it makes no sense to replace it before moving into our house together after the wedding. We hear our neighbor having sex all the time, so we figured if she can dish it, she can take it, too.

  This is not what I meant by that.

  I only realize how much my hands are shaking when I reach for the doorknob. My pulse is throbbing in my head and I feel like I'm going to be sick. Relax, some part of me that still has control of the situation says at the back of my mind. My hands are sweating. I wipe them dry on my coat and take a deep breath.

  I hang onto the last shred of hope that what I think is happening is not happening, and fling the door open.

  One of the nightstand lamps is on. Jeremy is on the bed, and below him is one of our neighbors, the one who we hear having sex through the walls. Neither of them has clothes on, and I’m not close enough to tell, but I’d bet every cent of my tips tonight that Jeremy is inside of her.

  For a few seconds, I am stunned, just staring at them.

  She sees me first. The squeaking stops. She screams and tries to push Jeremy off of her.

  “What?” he asks her, bewildered.

  She's hysterical, flailing her arms and legs so much, Jeremy almost falls off the bed. He hasn't seen me yet. She's burrowing under the comforter, trying to cover herself up.

  I want to move because I don't want to look at what is in front of me, but I can't. I'm looking at them long enough to see that Jeremy doesn't have a condom on. He and I have been using condoms since I got off my last birth control. We were going to start trying for a baby soon.

  My whole body feels cold and my stomach drops. Finally, he notices me. He's naked, with a hard-on and the stupidest look on his face.

  “Na—Naomi… babe,” he says.

  Instantaneously, something clicks. Something breaks.

  I’m looking at my fiancé, the man I have been with for three years, naked with another woman and my mind puts an immediate stop to the relationship.

  Every ‘us’, ‘we’ ‘our’ is gone.

  I stride forward into the room. The woman cowers in the bed like I’m coming for her, but instead I walk straight into the closet.

  “Naomi,” I hear behind me. “Babe… I didn’t realize you were going to be home so early.”

  “I live here,” I snap. But not for long. I pull my gym bag off its hook and start to fill it.

  Underwear, socks, some t-shirts, jeans, enough clothes to last me a few days. I’m dedicating every bit of my attention to the task so I don’t have to look at or think about Jeremy behind me.

  “What are you doing? Hey, baby, just—can we talk?” he asks. He puts his hand on my shoulder and I shake it off like it’s covered in dog poop.

  “I can hear you,” I say. “If you want to talk, then talk.”

  He curses under his breath. “I don't want to lie to you about what you just saw. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry.”

  “Was this the first time?” I ask.

  He’s quiet long enough for me to know what the answer is.

  “I’m sorry,” he says again. “Could you please stop packing? Where are you going? It’s the middle of the night.”

  I whirl around to face him. Jeremy is attractive. I always imagined our child inheriting his blue eyes. When he smiled, his face was so cheeky and boyish—I don’t know what it was, exactly, but it just got me. It got a lot of people, evidently, but who’s counting?

  “Excuse me,” I say, moving past him. I walk into the bathroom and start grabbing the essentials. My makeup and most of my other cosmetic stuff will have to stay here for now. I’ll have to come back, as long as I can schedule that at a time Jeremy isn’t home.

  “Are you really leaving?” I hear Jeremy ask. I glance in the mirror and see his reflection. He threw some boxers on and he’s not hard anymore. I look back down and stuff my toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste into the bag.

  “I don’t see any reason to stay here. Do you?”

  “I’ll sleep on the couch. I’ll leave, how about that? You stay here. I don’t want you out at this time of the night.”

  I look up at him again through the mirror. “I brought you a bottle of your favorite. It’s in the kitchen. Try not to choke on it.” I zip my bag up and sling it over my shoulder, then turn and walk out of the bathroom.

  Before I can get away, he grabs onto my arm so I can’t leave.

  I spin on him, fury in my eyes. “Get your fucking hands off of me!” I hiss through gritted teeth.

  He lets go, putting his hands up, shocked at my outburst. I look over at the woman in the bed. I wonder what she thinks this is, whether she thinks she could replace me and he wouldn’t do the same thing to her.

  Let her try. I couldn’t care
less anymore.

  Jeremy is still at a loss for words. I can’t even remember the last time I yelled at him, if I ever did. Definitely not like I just did.

  I walk out of the bedroom, leaving the two of them together. Once out of sight, I stride fast, trying to get to the door. I want to get as far away from here as humanly possible.

  “Naomi!” I hear behind me.

  Oh, for the love of God. I get to the door, but pausing to unlock it slows me down. He catches up.

  “Babe. I’m begging you here. Please don’t go. I’m sorry. This was the last time between me and her. I was stupid. I was lonely. I just wanted to… I’ll do anything, baby. Please.”

  I look up at him and it shocks me how tired I feel. The past few minutes have felt like an entire lifetime.

  “The last time?” I ask him. “I wish you figured out some more creative lies before I got home.” I open the door and notice the diamond ring on my finger. I stop and pull it off my hand. I hold it out to him.

  He shakes his head. “No. It’s not over.”

  Yes, the hell it is.

  He refuses to take it from me. I shrug and drop it down on the floor at my feet.

  Then I leave.

  I turn and walk, almost on autopilot, down the stairs to the garage and into my car. It’s the middle of the night. I have nowhere to go, but I start my engine. I hear my phone vibrate in my purse and ignore it.

  The only thing I want right now is a roof over my head. Well, that, and Jeremy dead.

  I don't want to bother Diana or Angie tonight. I have cash on me, my tips from my shift. A place to stay for the night isn't going to be hard to find. I look at my purse. My phone is still going crazy in there. At this rate, the battery is going to be dead by the time I find somewhere to sleep. I drive out of our neighborhood; the cheapest place I’ll find here is going to be upwards of a hundred dollars a night.

  I’m driving aimlessly for almost thirty minutes before I pull into a place and park. In the reception, I have to ring a bell to bring a man out from behind a door. He looks tired and a little mad to be woken up so late, but he nods and greets me.

  “I’m looking for a room,” I say.

  “Just you?” the man asks me. He looks me up and down. My coat is open and I realize I’m still dressed for work. Oh God, does he think I’m a prostitute? Well, he can think whatever he wants as long as it means he’s going to give me a room. I’m too tired to give much of a damn about a stranger’s judgment.

  “Just me,” I sigh.

  “Let me see,” he says, turning his back to me. My phone has stopped vibrating. I try and remember whether I grabbed a charger. The man turns around and holds a key out to me. I reach for it but he holds it away from me.

  “Are you doing okay, hon?” he asks. My eyes suddenly well up and I want to scream. I want to cry and tell him that no, I just walked in on my fiancé screwing our neighbor. I am not okay.

  “Just peachy,” I say.

  He doesn’t look convinced. “You know, if you need help, there’s a place for women not far from here. I can give you the address.”

  I give him a smile, though it probably looks tight and false, and shake my head. “I’m fine, really,” I say. In all honesty, I’m actually grateful for his concern. Something has happened, that’s for certain, but it’s nothing he can help me with, and I suddenly feel like I’m about to fall asleep standing still. I need a bed and an eternity to sleep, ASAP.

  He shrugs and hands me the key. “Enjoy your stay,” he says.

  I thank him and go to find my room. I have to walk up two flights of stairs to get to it. When I let myself in, it’s a room about as big as the master bathroom at home. At Jeremy’s home, I correct myself. It’s not mine anymore.

  I walk in and turn the lights on. Bed, check. Roof, check. That’s everything I need.

  I lock the door, drop my bags and fall, face-first into the bed.

  As soon as I hit the mattress, it bursts out of me. It's so hard and fast I can’t control it. I’m sobbing. I can’t breathe. My head aches and my chest feels caved in. I cry into the maroon bedcover, feeling everything I stopped myself from showing when I was at the apartment.

  Three years. All that love, commitment, time, just gone. He ruined it. It was all fake. How many times? How many women? How could I have been so stupid?

  I cry until I’m quiet. Until there are no more tears.

  I sit up on the bed and walk to the bathroom, using a wad of toilet paper to wipe my eyes and blow my nose. I splash water on my face in the sink. As I do, I catch my reflection in the mirror. My eye makeup is smudged, giving me raccoon eyes, while the rest of my makeup is a patchy, streaky mess. A laugh bubbles out of me, catching me off guard. I look fucking hilarious.

  “Are you done?” I say out loud into the mirror.

  Yeah, I’m done. It’s over.

  I wash my face and take a shower, realizing too late that I forgot to take my locket off before getting in the water. Hopefully, it isn’t damaged. I didn’t grab any pajamas so I just wear a t-shirt and some underwear. I don’t have much, but I do have enough clothes to last at least the next couple days without going back to the apartment. I will cross that bridge when I get to it. Jeremy has taken up enough of my mental economy for tonight.

  I pull my sketchpad out of my purse and rifle through it for a pencil. I always keep the pad on me, but I will have to go back to the apartment for my older designs and sketches. Add that to the list.

  I sit on the bed and open the last page I worked on. It’s a take on a gown inspired by a classic fifties silhouette. My pencil scrapes across the page and soon, I’m absorbed in the task.

  I get tunnel vision when I draw. It’s everything to me, the reason I came to New York. I’m working until I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.

  And for one tiny, brief moment, everything feels okay.

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