His Witness

by Vanessa Waltz

  “Where are we going?”

  “To my house. You’ll feel at home, I promise.”

  He promises.

  I stare at him as he gives me a secretive smile and his hand gently squeezes my leg. The pressure sends warmth through my skin. Honestly I have no idea what’s going on anymore. I don’t know what game he’s playing at, bringing me to his house.

  “Tommy, what the hell is going on? Why are you taking me to your house where anyone can see me?”

  The car thunders across the bridge, the bars casting shadows over his face as he grins. “We want to be seen, hon. There’s a charity dinner tomorrow that you’ll be attending with me. Everyone will be there.”

  Everyone?

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will.”

  Through the snarl of traffic, we finally arrive at Tommy’s home in West Village. He lives on a quiet, upscale street. Snow is shoveled to the side in dirty mounds, and I grimace, thinking of the cold wetness on my bare feet.

  “Wait,” he says as he parks the car.

  He gets out, his boots crunching on the snow as he moves to the passenger side and opens the door. A gust of cold air blows into the car and my teeth chatter. Smiling, Tommy bends to his knees and beckons to me.

  “C’mon. I’ll pick you up so you don’t have to walk through the snow.”

  “Tommy, it’s okay—”

  But he slides an arm behind my legs and neck and stands up with hardly a grunt before I can utter another word of protest. I squeal in delight as he lifts me into the air, swinging me around as if I’m a rag doll in his arms. His chest erupts with laughter as I tighten my arms around his neck, toes curling against the cold.

  God, we almost seem normal.

  It’s freezing outside. The cold bites my toes hard as all the hair stands up on my arms, and Tommy’s breath billows out like smoke.

  “Hopefully I don’t fucking slip on these steps.”

  I cling to his shoulders as he carefully climbs them. I expect him to put me down when he reaches the top, but he doesn’t. He somehow unlocks the door and we walk inside the heated, narrow hallway. He shuts the door, finally letting me down to my feet. My face heats as I slide down his chest.

  “Thanks. You didn’t have to carry me like that.”

  It was sweet, really.

  He says nothing as he bends down, removing his shoes. I turn around and take tentative steps forward into his apartment. So this is Tommy’s home. I wander through it, checking out the living room first. Bright, white walls and soft, blue couches. There’s a small glass coffee table and two black leather chairs, with a brick accent wall. It’s a beautiful apartment, really. The kind of place I dreamed I’d have when I made it. I find it interesting that he’d live here, and not in some fancy high-rise downtown. Here, it’s quieter.

  I stand next to the window, gazing down at the silent street as Tommy moves behind me. His arm snakes around my waist as he plants a kiss on my neck.

  “Come see the bedroom.”

  He takes my hand and leads me from the living room to his room. The sheets and comforter are dove-gray. The headboard rests against another brick accent wall, and he pulls me into the closet, flicking on the light. On the left, there are all of his suits and ties of ranging color. The right side has more variety of color—blue, green, even shocking pink. I reach out and slide one of the hangers to the side, realizing that they’re all women’s clothes. In my size.

  I take a blouse from the bar, the hanger shaking in my hand. My voice is hardly a whisper.

  “How did you get these?”

  “I have my ways. I’ve seen you naked enough times to know what size you are.”

  He smiles at the blush burning my cheeks and kisses me as a whirl of confusion seizes my body. Tears suddenly prick my eyes, and I don’t know why. Everything is just so fast, and I can’t untangle it from my mind.

  “What’s the matter, hon?” he says in a gentle voice.

  “Why are you doing all of this for me?”

  I search his hazel eyes for the truth. Oh God. Is any of this real, or is it just another trick to placate me?

  “You mean, why am I doing this for myself? That’s easy. I’m a selfish man, and I want you for myself. There will be times where you’ll have to leave the apartment, and you can’t go out looking like that.” He smiles, looking at the men’s t-shirt and the ill-fitting sweatpants.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

  His calm gaze irritates me. “What does this all mean? What is this between us, Tommy?”

  The calmness on his face warps into a mask of pure unadulterated lust. He advances on me like a predator, his presence stifling the walk-in closet. His eyes smolder like bright, glowing embers.

  “It doesn’t mean what you think it does.”

  My breath catches as he lifts a hand to my neck, the contact burning my skin. “Then—what?”

  “It means that even if you’re freed from Jack, you’ll never be free from me.”

  His mouth burns my lips, his hand painfully clutching my neck. I open my mouth and lift the flimsy shirt separating us, and then he moans when my breasts flatten against his chest. I don’t know how to explain why his possessive words drive me insane with desire. It always pissed me off before, when he assumed that I must’ve been into him. I was, of course, but that didn’t stop me from being annoyed. Now, it’s the opposite. I need him to control me. At the same time, my heart clenches. I want more than his lust. I want his heart, too.

  But I don’t even know if he has one.

  Mine hammers hard against my ribs, the sleepy smile on his face enough to make tendrils of something warm and thrilling curl around my heart. The muscles in his chest are like steel. His breath catches in his throat as I slowly unbutton his shirt and spread my palms over his warmth. The dimples carve deeply into his face.

  How could I ever think of going back to my old life? What was that, anyway? Pining after college students and living with an unseated desire that burned my insides. Tommy gives me everything I wanted. He makes me feel truly alive.

  I don’t want to leave him.

  Holding my breath, I expect my heart to gallop ahead. I expect horror. Regret. Something.

  Not calm acceptance.

  My hand stills. “Tommy, can we talk?”

  He grins at me, hair hanging around his face and his shirt half open. “You want to talk? Now?”

  Then I meet his gaze and he balks under my stare. “How long is this going to last?”

  “Until I say so.”

  Goddamn it. I just want a real fucking answer.

  “Melanie, I’m having way too much fun with you right now to just give you up to Jack, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

  It’s not.

  It feels like a swift blow to the sensitive area right underneath my ribs. I care about him. Why can’t he see that?

  Whatever, just go along with it.

  “Swear it on your mother’s head.”

  I hold his head, feeling his rapid heartbeat through my palms.

  Good, so I’m not the only one who’s affected.

  He laughs handsomely, placing a hand over his heart.

  “On my mother’s head, I swear.”

  Like any promises a mobster makes are worth a damn.

  I raise myself on my toes, my lips bumping against his hard enough to make him stumble backward. He laughs as his hand squeezes my ass, a low growl reverberating in his throat.

  * * *

  A scared face stares back at me from the mirror. She’s all dolled up—lips in a deep-red shade of hue, hair ironed straight, a necklace shining at the base of her throat, golden hoops dangling from her ears, and a long, seductive dress flowing down her curves.

  She looks petrified.

  No amount of makeup will erase the truth blazing on my face: that I was kidnapped. I was coerced, but it doesn’t feel like it anymore, does it? I
barely blinked an eye when Tommy told me I’d never be free from him. Maybe being freed from him scares me more than being his captive. What would I do? Where would I go?

  I take a deep breath and unlock the door of the bathroom, finally stepping out after more than an hour of being inside. Tommy sits in the living room, looking breathtakingly handsome in his suit. He hears the sound of my heels clipping on the wooden floor and turns around. An appreciative whistle splits the silence. He stands up immediately, that dark look smoldering his face again. He raises his hand to my face, but at the last moment touches my neck instead.

  “I won’t ruin your makeup. I can’t promise anything for later tonight, though.”

  I clutch the hand on my neck. “Tommy, I can’t do this.”

  The desperate note in my voice makes the smile on his face disappear. “Yes, you can.”

  “I can’t face them—not after everything—”

  “I know it’s hard, but I’ll be with you the whole time. I promise.”

  “I just don’t understand why I have to be there.”

  He sighs, closing his eyes. “It has to be done. If they see you with me, it’ll make your testimony unreliable. It’d be even better if they caught us banging at the party,” he adds in a husky voice.

  I push him away, swallowing the anger I’m barely containing inside me. Their faces cycle through my mind: Vincent, Joe, Jack, Nicky. I ratted them all out, and I’m going to see them. I’ll have to look them in the eyes and swallow my pride.

  This isn’t fair.

  “Hey, look at me.”

  The tone in his voice stirs hope in my chest. I look at him.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you tonight. You just have to be brave for me. Most of it’s drinking and dancing.”

  I nod at his smiling face and he kisses the tip of my nose.

  “Come on, let’s go.”

  We gather our coats and I grab my clutch, and he follows me out the door. The icy wind howls the moment we step outside, and I climb down the steps to his car.

  We’re going to some sort of mob charity dinner.

  “It’s a great way to touch up a muddy facade,” Tommy explains.

  Cops love to attend these events—it’s an opportunity for them to wire the place and eavesdrop, but business is never spoken there. It’s really just a night for fun, to look charitable in the public eye. Makes them look good. It’ll just be an opportunity for the feds to see that I’m alive, to make me an unreliable witness. It’ll make it easier on me when I retract my testimony.

  He parks the car somewhere in Midtown, and Tommy flags a taxi so we don’t have to walk the five or so blocks to the event. He’s just trying to be nice, but frankly I’d prefer walking through freezing snow than taking a taxi directly there. It’s better to prolong the inevitable.

  I cling to Tommy’s jacketed arm, grateful for his warmth. He gives me an amused smile as my arm locks around his in an iron grip, preventing him from leaving the taxi. A blush rises in my cheeks and I let go of him, immediately missing his warmth, but Tommy stands up and I grasp his waiting hand. I shiver against him, the shrug draping my shoulders doing little to keep me warm.

  We approach the venue, Tommy peeling several hundred dollars from a roll and handing them to a man in a tux, who ushers us inside.

  Heating vents from overhead blast us with warm air as we walk through the glass doors, into a dimly lit reception hall. White tablecloths cover dozens of tables, all of which have beautiful centerpieces. Dark branches with white iris flowers intertwined in the wood reach up from the center of the tables as white candles glow softly around them. Soft jazz music plays from a stage as we weave through the tables, the smell of food sickening my stomach as Tommy takes my waist and drags me around.

  Finally I spot Vincent and what must be his wife sitting at a table set for six. Jack Vittorio sits there, too, and my stomach clenches with the memory of his foot kicking my side. His wife sits in a glittering white dress, looking bored. Nicky sits with his wife at a nearby table.

  Oh no. No, no, no.

  It’s too late. Tommy brings me close to the table and Vincent’s eyes narrow in malevolence. Fury swirls in his black eyes, which give me a poisonous look. He opens his mouth aggressively, but Jack places a hand on his arm. His wife, however, peers at me curiously. She’s dressed in blue silk, as beautiful as her husband, but without the hostile gaze.

  “Adriana, Carmella, this is my girlfriend, Melanie. Hey, Jack.”

  My what?!

  Shocked beyond belief, I don’t even see the hand floating in my vision. Tommy digs his elbow in my side and I take Adriana’s hand, my lips spasming under her beaming smile.

  “Nice to meet you!”

  I can tell from the smile on her face that she has no idea who I am, or the part I played in her husband’s indictment.

  Holy fuck.

  Stiffly I walk toward the boss’s wife, who gives me a cool smile and a limp hand to shake. Vincent’s widened face tells me that he’s not the only one who is surprised.

  He’s just saying that. He has to in front of the women.

  “Tommy, where’ve you’ve been, you sneaky fuck?” Nicky’s voice cracks through the quiet table, but his face darkens when he sees me standing beside him. “What the fuck is she doing here?”

  His tone earns scandalized looks from Adriana and Carmella, and suddenly Tommy appears at his side, whispering in his ear with a cruel grimace. I sit down at the table and feel cold panic creeping over my skin, deliberately avoiding Adriana’s curious looks.

  “Good to see you, Adriana, Carmella.” He nods politely in their directions as he returns to the table, meeting Vincent’s furious gaze. “Hey, Vinny.”

  Contempt rolls from his gaze and he grips the stem of the wineglass, his fingers so white that I’m sure it’ll explode. He nods his head, apparently not trusting himself to speak. I don’t dare look at Jack, who wasn’t as good at hiding his disgust for my presence as Vince.

  A small, feminine voice suddenly pipes up. “Melanie, are you all right?”

  The mention of my name snaps my head to the left as I carefully avoid her husband’s heavy gaze. The concern written on her face fills my body with lead. I never felt guilty for ratting on her shitty husband until now. I never thought of Vincent’s wife, or any of their wives, except to feel sorry for them.

  “I—I’m fine.”

  Her eyes wrinkle a bit. She doesn’t seem to believe me, and then I feel Tommy’s lips against my neck and my muscles freeze. He kisses the shell of my ear as his hand snakes around my back.

  “Calm the fuck down,” he whispers into my ear.

  Seriously? How am I supposed to do that?

  I can’t calm down, even in this beautiful place with the jazz music softly playing in my ear. The men surrounding me look at me with a promise shining in their pitiless eyes.

  I’m going to die.

  My hand slides over his lap under the tablecloth and I grab his thigh, pinching him hard to relieve some of the stress shaking my limbs.

  “We’re going to get a drink,” he announces to the table.

  He grabs my hand in a vise grip and I rise from the table, Adriana’s face shining with concern. She immediately bends her head to her husband when we walk away.

  I chew my lip hard, nearly crying with relief when we reach the bar. Tommy pulls me into his arms, gazing down at me with a serious look. “You have got to relax.”

  “Why?” I hear my voice croak. “Why is it so important?”

  He sighs, turning toward the bartender to order a couple vodka tonics. He leans over the bar, passing the drink down to me. “You want to live, don’t you?”

  I wrap my hands around the drink and a hoarse grunt leaves my mouth as I nod my head.

  “Then you have to act like you are completely head over heels for me.”

  A bit of the drink slips down my chin as I swallow a huge gulp and sputter, fire blazing down my throat and watering my eyes. He chuckles and takes
a sip of his own, pulling me into his chest. His fingers splay over my bare back and the brief contact doubles the warmth blazing down my body. A single finger tips my head backward and hot lips and tongue take my mouth, the biting taste of alcohol lingering on him. My mind swims when he pulls back, even though we’re just standing still.

  I don’t want him to let go.

  The blaze inside me kicks up and I pull his head closer. “Tommy, I don’t have to pretend with you.”

  Nothing betrays the small, pleasant smile on his face. “Don’t you?” his deep voice rumbles.

  No, and I can’t tell you how fucked up that is.

  “I don’t understand what’s happened to me.” Taking the drink, I tip my head back and another large swallow makes me giggle.

  Tommy thrives under the attention. For weeks I rejected him and now he has me eating out of the palm of his hand. It must feel good. He bends closer, speaking lowly so only I can hear him.

  “I wish there was a room somewhere I could take you and fuck your brains out right now.”

  His voice sears the back of my head and my eyes scan the place, searching for something with my drink in hand. I take his hand in mine and tug.

  “Where are we going?”

  I stop abruptly and he bumps into my chest. “Somewhere you can fuck me.”

  I know I’m already drunk and the devilish laughter he gives me sends heat pounding in my core. The bathroom is a logical choice, and I find a handicapped one with a lock in the door, pulling him inside quickly. Tommy’s laughs echo in the tiled room, his hands smoothing my shoulders.

  I lock the door and turn around.

  He’s grinning ear to ear. “Are you serious? You want me to fuck you here?”

  “This night will be a lot easier if you’re inside me for at least part of it.”

  Tommy’s face turns pink for a moment, but he quickly recovers, shaking his head and grinning. “Jesus.”

  Then my back slams against the door as he covers my tits with his hands, groping hard as his mouth crushes mine. My head rolls against the wood as his lips trail down my neck, sending clenching pleasure between my legs. Everything is somehow amplified with the alcohol coursing through my veins. Every thought, every small caress on my skin revolves around getting that thickening bump in his slacks between my legs. His face buries between my tits and my nipples roll in his mouth, sending electrical shocks throughout my skin.