“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, squeezing 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 knuckles. “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.”
His hand curls around my neck and my pulse beats into his thumb. Gray eyes search my face, which grows more and more hot. “How am I supposed to trust you and let you in my home?”
“Why would I do anything to piss you off? I already have one pissed-off mobster after me.”
Deep dimples carve into his smile.
“What if we don’t get along? Three months is a long time.”
“We don’t have to get along. We just have to tolerate one another.”
“This is crazy, Elena. It’s fucking nuts.”
“But it’ll work, and you’ll be fifty thousand dollars richer. In a few months, we’ll divorce. It won’t mean anything, I just need to have a fucking ring on my finger for a while.”
He considers it, lifting his head as he stares into the brick wall. I can see the cogs working in his head, weighing the advantages and disadvantages.
“If you were my ex-wife, I could probably get a sit-down with Johnny if that asshole tried anything.”
“Perfect.”
He smiles at me. “There’s still no way you’re going to get people to believe this.”
I think hard, staring into his honest eyes, and then a rush of adrenaline runs through my veins. “I’m pregnant.”
A stunned silence follows my words, which Tony eventually breaks with a laugh.
“That might work,” he says in an impressed voice. “Fuck, I’m going to hell.”
A sigh of relief runs through my body as he shuts his eyes.
“Why me?”
Why did I choose him? Well, that’s simple.
“You looked strong and—and I thought you were—well, you’re my type.”
Mischief shines through his eyes. “Am I?”
His eyes smolder suddenly and his hand wraps around my wrist, pulling me into his chest.
“Can’t you tell?”
A rush of heat fills my neck as I feel his warmth and his lips touch right under my ear. My skin shivers at the brief contact. Everything—his hands around my waist and his breath billowing over my skin—it overwhelms me. I’ve never been quite this speechless around a man before, but the sensations void all thought from my head.
“Yes, I think I can.” He sears my neck with a biting kiss, one that’s sure to leave a mark. I moan and tremble in his arms.
“Tony, I really don’t think we should—if we’re going to be living together we don’t want to complicate things.”
He pulls back with a steely look in his eyes. “What?”
“We shouldn’t have sex anymore.”
Blackness descends over his face. “What’s the point of having a fake marriage if I can’t have any of the benefits?”
I inhale a sharp breath as he plants a kiss, breathing hot air over my neck. Damn, it feels amazing. “It’s just a—a job.”
“Uh-huh. And how the hell am I supposed to bring women back home if you’re there all the time?”
My insides clench hard as I think about it. Fuck, I don’t want to think of him with other women. The thought of hearing him with another girl in his room makes me feel slightly sick.
“We’ll think of something. I can stay at Tommy’s bar overnight.”
He takes my face in his hands and I don’t think I’ve ever looked into someone’s eyes like this. It’s as if he’s stripping me down.
“This isn’t going to change me, understand? Don’t ask me any more favors. I fuck who I want.”
I swallow hard and give him a nod. “You’re a great lay, and all, but that doesn’t mean I’m attached to you. This is just business. We should keep it that way.”
The smirk, his eyes, his thumbs slightly caressing my skin—it’s hard to think with all three at the same time.
“We’ll see.”
“I’m not exactly eager to jump into bed with another connected guy, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m nothing like your piece of shit ex,” he says in a heated voice, eyes flashing. “As long as you understand that what we have isn’t ever going to become anything, we’ll be fine.”
Good.
“It’ll just be fun.”
A pleasant growl rumbles in his throat.
“Hold on—we only just met—doesn’t it take a while for those tests to find out if you’re pregnant?”
Oh shit.
“Yeah, but I don’t have a week.”
He smiles against my neck and it sends electricity through my skin. “You can stay a
t my place.”
“What—what if he shows up?”
“He won’t.”
Emotion floods my chest as I turn in his arms, cupping his rough face. “Tony, thank you.” I lean into his broad chest as he hands slip under the hem of my shirt, stroking my skin. Kissing him is so much stronger than the alcohol running through my veins. I feel myself unfolding, losing myself in his smell and the taste of his mouth.
I shouldn’t touch him.
He pulls back, his lips swollen. “We need to talk more about it, but right now—all I can think about is fucking you.”
The door closes and the shaking reverberates throughout the entire apartment. For a moment I think about how that sound terrifies me, and Tony’s huge bulk looms over me like a shadow. He just smiles at me in the darkness, knowing that I’ll eventually go to him. That my heart already pounds in anticipation of his touch.
We’re not supposed to have sex.
It keeps repeating in my head like a feeble whisper.
What is it about him? I know he’s no good. He’s cut from the same cloth as Rafael. He’s a man whore, for god’s sake, and yet I still find myself drawn toward him beyond all sense or logic. How can I ignore a guy whose body looks like Brad Pitt’s in Troy?
I step into his chest, swallowing down my dread that I’ve signed myself a deal with the devil. He seems to notice my mood. A slick grin spreads across his face and he smoothes the hair on my shoulders, tucking a few strands behind my ear.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Cold feet?”
His hand feels incredibly cool against my cheek, or maybe it’s because I’m burning up. “No, it’s just—I don’t know how to act around you.”
You make me nervous.
“You’re paying me for my time, that’s all. Fucking me is not part of the payment, understand? I want you to want me.”
His thumb brushes under my bottom lip as his smooth voice caresses my ears, and my palm spreads over his broad chest. “I do want you.”
“I know.”
“I just don’t know if this is a good idea.”
“This whole thing isn’t a good idea.”
“I know, but—”
His mouth descends over mine finally, cutting off my protests, and I weaken in his arms as though his kiss somehow drains me of all energy. Then he bends, reaching under my knees so that I fly into the air—into his arms like a ragdoll. My arms link around his neck, but he pushes me higher so that my legs straddle his head. I squeal and clutch him as he backs me against the wall.
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