“Let’s get out of here.”
“Don’t you have work?”
“Fuck work.”
He smirks at that. “Ask Tommy if you can cut out early. I’ll wait.”
“You better.”
As I slide from his lap, I feel his hands on my ass. There are people watching us as he gives me a rough squeeze and then slaps me, sending me on my way. He winks at me when I turn around, and I feel like shrinking on the spot.
The men jeer after me as I enter the back and look for Tommy. He’s on the phone, a mess of paperwork scattered on his desk. He’s frowning.
“All right, I’ll—yeah. Thanks, Vince.”
At the mention of his name, fear stabs my chest. The high from successfully asking out Tony pops like a soap bubble, and a chill creeps up my arms.
Vincent. There’s only one that Tommy and I know.
He hangs up the phone and folds his hands into steeples, looking unhappy. “Listen, Vince just found out that one of his men was detained for resisting arrest. He doesn’t know why, but he wants one of us to bail him out. Whatever you’re going to do, you better do it fast.”
My face drains of color. “Thanks—I was going to leave with Tony. Is that all right?”
He looks like he wants to say something else, but he stops himself. “Yeah, okay.”
Shit. He’s getting bailed out a lot sooner than I thought.
I gather my things and head out, fixing a smile when I rejoin Tony at the bar. The sooner I ask him, the better. The tension in his face dissolves somewhat when I take his hand. A dark, searching look descends over him as he squeezes my fingers.
“Are you hungry? I was going to take that girl to dinner.”
Surprised, I look up at his expressionless face. “Yeah, a little.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
“Okay.”
He leads me out of the bar, holding the door open for me with a self-assured smile. God, the man exudes confidence. All of Dad’s men seemed like that, at first. It took a few months for me to realize the difference between confidence and cocky assholes flying off the handle at every perceived slight.
“So what kind of food do you like?”
“Oh, anything is fine. Really.”
We walk down the streets as I cling to his hand for warmth. He keeps giving me meaningful looks as we pause for the lights, and then we finally stop in front of a restaurant. Tapeo.
“Hope you like Spanish.”
There’s a line inside the restaurant. The foyer is completely packed, but Tony calmly pushes to the front where the hostess recognizes him.
“There’s no way we’ll get a table!” I shout over the din.
He gives me a secretive smile and nods toward the hostess. “Table for two,” he says in his deep voice.
“Right this way, Mr. Vidal.”
My jaw drops as he turns around to give me a wink.
Of course. Johnny must have all the restaurants in the city in his pocket.
The hostess takes the heavy coat from my shoulders, and I feel oddly vulnerable without it. I’m dressed in a flowing tank top and jeans, and he’s in a suit. Discomfort rattles against my ribs.
It’s a nice restaurant, low lit and moody. The golden tone of the lights complements the steel-blue walls nicely. Tony’s strong hand wraps around my waist and a flash of desire trails up my thighs. I forgot what it was like to be excited for a date, to have his hands around my waist, and for that small, yet powerfully intimate touch to send a thrill to my heart.
But it’s not a date.
No, I’m here to ask Tony for a favor.
The hostess leads us to a table with two white, round candles. The rustic decor in the restaurant gives the place a trendy vibe. There are no tablecloths. Tony pulls my chair out and pushes me in when I sit down.
It’s kind of startling to see how well mannered he is. I didn’t expect it because he talks like a goddamn jerk.
Here we go.
My nerves fire up as he sits across from me and orders a bottle of wine. The sommelier whisks back with the bottle, pouring two glasses for us. I take the delicate stem in my hands and swallow a small gulp, shuddering as it spreads heat over my chest. Tony looks vaguely content, his eyes relaxed, but with the occasional glance toward the door.
I wish I could just sit here and enjoy the night like a normal person.
“When was the last time you’ve been on a date?” I ask him.
“I go on dates all the time, I just don’t go on second dates.”
“Why not?”
He lifts his shoulder in an elegant shrug as a complicated look flashes over his face. “What’s the point?”
What’s the point?
“Oh, I don’t know. Friendship? Love?”
He smiles at me. “I don’t know if I care about any of that.”
Wow.
“What do you care about?”
He grins like a devil. “Pussy. Money. Those are my two loves.”
It’s like a wrench inside my chest. This is going to go so badly. A man like this will never agree to a marriage of convenience.
“Aren’t you a charmer,” I say in a very dry voice, sipping more wine.
“I never pretended to be.”
His gray eyes are as dark as his face, and just as cold. His indifference strikes me hard, and I don’t know why I care. I don’t care. Whatever, I’m not here to make him smitten with me. I’m here to hopefully get him to agree to marry me.
“So why the fuck are we here, huh? You got rid of that girl I was going to bring home.”
I roll my eyes at his narrowed ones. I decide that Tony looks even sexier with a scowl on his face. “Please, don’t act like you don’t want me. You were all over me as soon as you recognized me in the bar.”
“I don’t like being manipulated, sweetheart. Just tell me what you want.”
The tiny flames of the candles flicker in his unrelenting stare.
Fine, I’ll tell him.
I lick my dry lips and open my mouth, unable to ask him.
Hey, guy I barely know. Wanna marry me for money?
The cutlery on the table rattles as I bump my fist against the wood, suddenly overcome with a fit of giggles. I cover my mouth as he stares back at me in bemusement, my shoulders shaking.
He swirls his wineglass. “You seem a bit stressed.” Then he leans in closer. “Maybe I should have just taken you to my place to fuck the pain away.”
The laughter breaks off and my skin blazes under his penetrating stare. “Yeah, maybe you should have.”
“This is about your ex, isn’t it?”
A wary look hardens his face.
“Yeah, but it’s not what you think.”
I still can’t fucking tell him.
“He showed up to my apartment right after I got home yesterday. We—we fought.”
He says nothing, but his eyes blaze.
“The cops showed up just in time, but he’ll be out soon. And then he’ll come after me.”
My face still smarts where he hit me, made worse by the alcohol flushing my skin. Tony looks back at me, his face stony. “How did you end up with a guy like that?”
Now it’s my turn to shrug.
“Dating opportunities were pretty thin on the ground. Daddy scared the guys away and he didn’t approve of a lot of them. He liked Rafael, though.”
Tony would know all about the traitorous New York boss, who was killed by his own crew for mob justice.
He leans back into his chair and swallows hard. His gaze flicks toward mine and away. “I’m sorry about your dad. I know what it’s like to lose a father.”
Somehow I see that. Something deep stirs inside his eyes: the jagged pain of losing someone too young, or some long-ago horror.
“You’re the first person who’s said that to me. Isn’t that—isn’t that funny?”
It’s not, really, but he makes a valiant attempt at a smile. His hand slides over the rough wooden table and seizes my hand, sq
ueezing it.
Why is he being so nice to me? This wasn’t what I expected at all. A lump rises in my throat and my hand trembles inside his.
I bite my lip hard as images of the poorly attended funeral run through my mind, everyone’s lack of sympathy, my mother, crying. It buries me.
“You should be glad I even came,” Rafael said, his mouth curled. “Your father was a coward—”
“Don’t you—don’t you dare talk about my father like that!”
It hurt me to hear those poisonous accusations from my boyfriend. He was supposed to protect me, and instead he tortured me.
“I’ll say whatever the fuck I want.” Then his voice dropped to a whisper as his fingers cruelly pinched my waist.
Tony looks at me, at a total loss for words. I want to talk to him about it. I want to talk to someone. I want to tell him how horrible it has been. Everything had to be locked tight inside, because I wasn’t allowed to grieve for my worthless, rat-bastard father.
He was always my daddy.
Bury that shit, damn it. Just be like a fucking stone.
I look into his impassive gaze as I freeze over my facial muscles. “Sorry, this is not what I—I don’t want to bring you down.”
“Why don’t you just tell me what you want from me?”
My cheeks burn when I realize how transparent I must be, but he doesn’t look angry. I open my mouth to tell him, and my guts clench.
God, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be.
“What makes you think that I want something?”
An unpleasant chill wafts from his eyes. “Cut the bullshit already and ask.”
I hate that I have to look across the table into his heavy eyes and ask him for something. The men back home wouldn’t have lifted a finger for me because I no longer mattered to them. The moment my dad became a traitor, I stopped existing. And they call it a family. What fucking family?
“Well, you’re right. I did want to ask you something.”
“Tell me.”
“Uh—well…” I was just wondering if you would maybe like to marry me in exchange for money. But don’t worry, it’ll only be for a little while.
Oh my fucking God, this is going to be a disaster.
My face feels as though I have a sunburn, and he laughs at my discomfort.
“Jesus, what the hell is it? Just tell me.”
Yeah, just tell him.
He’s going to laugh in my face.
“I want to—to pay you to do something for me.”
“Okay…” he motions with his hand. “What?”
“To—to marry me. I have fifty thousand dollars in cash.”
It sounds just as stupid as I thought it would, and I want to evaporate on the spot.
A strange expression suddenly contorts Tony’s face. It takes a moment before I realize that he’s actually scared of me. Because he thinks I’m nuts.
Then the irony of a six-foot-something Mafioso actually fearing me hits me hard, and I nearly burst.
He shifts in his chair. “Uh—”
This is life and death.
“This is the only way to get Rafael off my back,” I say quickly, my face a shade of fuchsia, I’m sure. “I can’t get rid of him.”
He looks at me as though he’s concerned for my sanity.
“That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard of. It is fucking ridiculous. Marry you? Are you fucking crazy?”
His indignant tone pisses me off.
“Since you’re a genius, you tell me what to do.”
“Get a fucking gun and just kill him.” He mimes with his fingers. Pop-pop.
I give him a hollow laugh. “And when Vincent finds out, then what? I’m just as fucked, and that’s assuming I can actually kill him and get rid of his body.”
The very idea fills me with revulsion. As much as I hate Rafael, I’m not a violent person, and blood disgusts me. I wouldn’t even know how to get rid of a body.
Tony crosses his arms, thinking, and then he shakes his head with a boom of laughter. “You know, I knew there was something off about you the moment you grabbed my cock in the bar. Amazing in bed, but completely fucking nuts.”
Oh fuck you.
My face burns again, this time flushed with the embarrassment of his insult. “I’m not crazy. I need to be married to a made guy, or I am dead.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Yeah, it fucking is,” I fire back. “It’s also the only thing that’ll keep me alive.”
Tony plays with the silverware on the table, tapping the butt end of the knife on the wood as he looks at me.
“Fifty-thousand dollars for a few months’ work isn’t ridiculous. It’s fair.”
Another snort of laughter leaves him and he drops the knife. He covers his mouth with both hands, his eyes alive with mirth. I should have known he wasn’t going to take me seriously.
I slam my purse on the table and stand up abruptly.
Suddenly his attitude turns. His hands lie flat on the table as the humor wipes from his face, and he looks at me with a paralyzing stare.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“I won’t be laughed at,” I snarl, suddenly hating everything about him right down to his smug smirk. He doesn’t know what the fuck I’m going through.
“I’m really not the guy you go to for this shit.”
“I’m aware of that, but I’m short on time, and I’ll be paying you, for fuck’s sake. It’s just another job.”
“It’s extreme.”
You want to see what I’m fucking running from, asshole?
In front of the whole restaurant, I lift up my shirt, stopping just below my bra.
Black eyebrows narrow dangerously at me. “What the fuck are you doing? This is a nice place. You can’t disrespect—”
“Look.”
I point at the huge purple bruise stretching over the side of my abdomen, the dark horror that he missed under the sheets. His face sobers immediately.
“He did that?” His voice sounds uncomfortable.
“There’s more,” I say in a toneless voice, dropping my shirt.
“That looks pretty serious.”
“That’s the fucking point.”
“I meant that you should see a doctor.”
“I don’t need a fucking doctor. A doctor won’t help me stay alive the next few days. You just—you don’t understand what it’s like. I’m scared, and this is the only thing I can think of.”
Tears thicken my voice, and I hate that I can’t keep it together in front of this guy.
He sighs and wipes his hand down his face. “Sit down.”
Trembling, I return to my seat and ball my fists on my knees.
Tony begins talking in a softer voice. “I’m telling you, it’s a bad idea. No one will believe it.”
“Who cares if they don’t believe it? I just need to be married, right?”
He buries his face in his hands. “What the fuck do you think this is, the boy scouts? No—not if people think it’s fake. Besides, if Johnny found out, I’d have to give him tribute.”
Shit.
“Well—”
“How do I even know you have access to that kind of money?”
I hurl him an ugly look. “Tommy is holding it for me. I have over a hundred grand American.”
His eyebrows lift at that, and he takes the glass of wine, taking a huge gulp. “It’s still a bad idea.”
“I don’t have any alternative! Do you think I want to marry some guy I just met?”
“People know me, sweetheart. They know I’d never get hitched.”
My head perks up. “Does this mean you’re interested?”
“It’s a lot of fucking money, of course I’m interested. But that’s a lot of—” A lump moves up his throat. “My mom—it would fucking kill her. She’d never forgive me.”
I lean forward and take his hand, expecting him to rip it away from me, but he lets me smooth my thumb over his k
nuckles. “I’m sure she’d be proud of you for helping someone whose life was in danger.”
His eyes cut me. “You don’t know her, and you don’t know me. What makes you think I’m the right guy for this? You think that just because we had a good time, I won’t just rob you and throw you into the streets?”
My hands twist in my lap as he stares at me with that intense glare, daring me to contradict him.
“I have to have faith in something. I don’t know you, but I don’t think you’ll hurt me.”
He crosses his arms and a scowl burns on his face.
He’s right. This is stupid. I don’t know him, and he doesn’t know me. There’s no way he’ll agree to do this for me. My best bet is to just run. Run far away, and keep running until Raf gets tired of chasing me.
“I’m really sorry.”
I take my purse and stand up from the table, eyes blinking away tears as I walk to the closet and grab my coat roughly, sending the hanger flying.
Honestly, what did I expect?
I ignore the hostess as I barge outside and walk swiftly down the freezing streets. Fuck, it’s so much colder here than New York, and it’s the kind of cold that seeps through every layer. I hug myself in the middle of the sidewalk, blinking furiously and feeling utterly alone in this foreign place.
I can’t even speak the language.
Nowhere to go.
My back slides against a brick wall and I huddle in the snow, hands wrapped around my knees. Part of me hopes I’ll freeze—maybe it’s cold enough to freeze my heart into place.
A man in a long wool coat walks past me, his gaze flicking to me sharply before he walks on. Then he stops in his tracks and doubles back.
“Elena?”
Tony. He came after me. The way he says my name fills me with hope. I know that it’s dangerous to hope, but I can’t help but lift my head to look at him.
“What?”
Tony frowns at me as he walks close enough so that his boots touch mine.
“I need assurances.” He gives me a shrewd look. “I don’t trust you.”
“I’ll pay you half up front. Tommy’s in on it, and he trusts me.”
That was not entirely true, but close enough.
“That’s not good enough.”
He bends down and takes my freezing hands, and I stand up with him. It makes my heart pound to be so close to him.
“I—I don’t know what else to do, then.”
Married to the Bad Boy Page 10
