She turned around and left for the dressing room.
She. Fucking. Left.
Luigi approached me from my flank. “She going to be a problem?”
“No.”
She was the opposite of a problem. If anything, everyone but her was the problem. Including Luigi.
I turned to face him. “Why are you here?”
“Had to see for myself.”
“See what?”
“The head of the Andretti family running a strip club.” He eyed said club, disdain curling his upper lip. “Santi got popped today.”
Shit.
Santi had been sent to the Andretti-Romano border in Maryland. It was dangerous territory to patrol and therefore suitable punishment for fucking my cousin and dumping her ass the next day.
I traced my jaw with my thumb. “He alright?”
“He’ll live. Won’t be a hundred percent, but he’ll live.”
Message delivered.
While I was running a strip club I should have passed onto one of my caporegimes, my men were doing their jobs and taking bullets. This—running The Down & Dirty—wasn’t even a job my underboss was fit for. But catching sight of Carina Gallo that night had changed all my plans.
I wanted her, and she was here.
The math seemed simple to me.
* * *
* * *
Ten years ago
“Are you sure it’ll be okay?” I tugged at my blood-red dress, the only one I owned.
Ranie had gotten it for me for my birthday last summer. A month before what had gone down at Dad’s shop. It was sophomore year, and this was my first time wearing it. I would have chosen another dress if I had the money for it, but… Well, I’d go to college, get a job, and things like money for a dress would be an afterthought.
Brody slung his arm around my shoulders. “It’ll be fine. Trust me.”
I did. I actually did. For the last semester of freshman year and all through this first semester of sophomore year, Brody had been there for me. Every. Single. Day. I’d thought he’d last a few days. Maybe a week at most. In my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have predicted he’d be there for me for a full year. For the first time since Ranie and I went our separate ways, I was genuinely hopeful for my future.
“Okay. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
Lie.
I was nervous because this was my first high school party, and I was technically crashing it. Brody had been invited, but not me.
Never me.
Brody and I walked up the driveway, me in my Chuck Taylors and deep V skater dress and him in his fitted jeans and a white t-shirt. He kept his arm slung around my shoulder, leading my distracted body up the front staircase to the massive double doors while I took in the mansion with wide eyes.
I had been to Ranie’s estate plenty of times, but that was five or so years ago when we were young kids, and his dad still tolerated our friendship. This mansion stood smaller than Ranie’s, but it was still impressive. The type of sprawling, white-and-gold monstrosity typical of Miami Beach mega-millionaires.
Brody tightened his arm around me, pulling me closer to his body in a failed attempt at comforting me. “You’re shaking.”
“Don’t worry about me.” I counted to ten in my head, forced myself to calm the heck down, and pushed open the mahogany double doors.
Metro Station’s “Seventeen Forever” blared from built-in speakers throughout the house. Alcohol sloshed onto Brody’s jeans as we pushed our way through the unruly crowd. We made it to the kitchen, where he took a couple shots, and I nabbed a wine cooler.
Brody and I were dancing when I spotted Niccolaio. We made eye contact, and the crowd parted as he strode his way to me. I took a step back, and my back met Brody’s chest. He slid his arm around me and steadied my body.
Niccolaio eyed Brody’s arm around my waist. “What are you doing here?”
I narrowed my eyes and tilted my chin up. “Hello to you, too, Niccolaio. Why are you treating me like this?”
He sighed and watched the curious crowd before lowering his voice. "Look. My brother's around here somewhere." He eyed Brody again, then returned his eyes to mine. “He could see you at any second.”
“How’s that my problem?”
“Just… he’s got a lot on his plate. You wouldn’t understand.”
I crossed my arms. “I would if he hadn’t dropped me as his friend.” I sighed and looked up at Brody, the adrenaline and my partying mood long gone. “Can we leave? I don’t want to be here anymore.”
Brody tightened his grip on my waist. “Are you sure?”
I nodded, annoyed by the satisfaction that unfurled across Niccolaio’s face. I knew he wasn’t a bad person, and whatever he was doing, he probably thought it was best for his brother, but it was at my expense. And that hurt like hell, coming from someone I had known my whole life.
Brody released his grip on my waist, and together, we made our way to the door. Someone bumped into me, sending me falling into Brody’s body. He slung a protective arm across my shoulders, and I leaned into him, hoping to avoid any bruises from the crowd.
I kept an eye out for Ranie. Despite what had unfolded over the past year and a half, I would take any sight of him I could get. Pathetic, yes, but I still cared about him. Love didn’t vanish overnight.
I froze when we passed Ranie next to the doorway. He had a girl pressed against the wall, his lips brushing against her neck. Lacy. She laughed as she caught sight of me. She tilted her head up and whispered something into his ear.
Ranie turned to face me, his eyes taking in my dress before landing on Brody’s arm around me. I felt bare before him, and wearing this dress—his dress—suddenly felt like a worse idea than I had already thought it was.
He wordlessly drank me in for another moment before he turned back to face Lacy, dismissing me like I was nothing. Not his past, not his present, and certainly not his future.
He rested his palm on her hip, and my heart stopped.
He curled a hand around the nape of her slender neck, and my soul fractured.
He pressed his lips against hers, and I was shattered.
Hope. Faith. Courage.
All gone.
In their place was disappointment. Stupid thing was, I knew better. I deserved more. I would never understand why Ranie, the best guy I had ever known, couldn’t give me that, but I was not going to settle for less than I deserved.
There was no future for Ranie and me.
That much was clear.
* * *
* * *
At home, I tore off that stupid red dress and slung it into the trash can. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t overcome the feeling of Ranie on me. He hadn't touched me tonight, but he was everywhere.
Everything in this room—in this darn apartment—reminded me of him. I needed out of here. Now. I shimmied into a pair of ripped skinny jeans, threw a hoodie over my head, and slipped into my Chucks. In a last-minute decision, I grabbed the red dress, knowing if I left it in the trash, I would cave and return it to its hanger in my closet, where it would mock me for years and years to come.
As soon as I reached the nearby park, I tossed the dress into the closest trashcan and crawled my way up the top of the jungle gym. I laid on the cheap plastic-coated metal, looking up at the night sky. Neither Miami Beach nor North Beach had been good to me, but I couldn’t hate their starry skies.
Hot rain poured down on me like a too-hot shower, obscuring my vision. A shadow rested over my face, and I began to shoot upward until a familiar scent wafted to my nose. Ranie lowered his hoodie and laid beside me.
I should have moved. I had just vowed to never settle for less than I deserved. To eviscerate any hope I held for a future for Ranie and me. The same hope that fueled my childhood as I fell more and more in love with him, despite the friend zone we had firmly placed ourselves in from the start.
But damned, if those Pop Rocks didn’t litter my stomach with their s
tupid, chaotic jumping.
I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of rain splashing my face. “What are you doing here?”
His voice skated across my skin and sunk into my bones, leaving its mark. “I stopped by your place and snuck into your room, but you weren’t there. Figured you’d be here.”
It wasn’t lost on me how well he knew me. “Answer my question. Why are you here?”
“I…” Ranie at a loss for words wasn’t a Ranie I’d ever met. He shifted, and I could feel his orange-Tic-Tac breath on my cheek. “You know I love you, right?”
My heart fluttered, even though I knew he didn’t mean that type of love. “Sure hasn’t felt like it.”
“You don’t understand. It’s… complicated.”
“Un-complicate it.” I reached for his hands and stared into his eyes, urging him to open up to me. “Help me understand.”
“We can’t be friends.”
“Not this bullshit again.” I turned onto my side, so I faced away from him. “If you’re not going to give me an explanation, then leave. Just leave, Ranie.”
“Come on, Gallo.”
Gallo.
Like we were friends again.
“You don’t get to show up out of the blue after a year and a half of ignoring me.” I took a deep breath, trying to force the emotion out of my voice. “What do you want from me, Ranieri?”
“I…” He grabbed my waist and turned me to face him.
I almost cried at the feel of his touch again. It was like rain after a drought. Food after a fast. Everlasting love after heartbreak.
His fists clenched like they used to when he held himself back from doing something. Minutes passed before his fingers slowly unfurled, and he reached for my face. He pulled a wet lock of hair behind my ear, dragging out the movement as long as humanly possible. “Can I kiss you?”
“What?”
His breath teased my lips. “Can I kiss you?” he repeated, like he hadn’t wasted so much time ignoring me.
My breath shook, and I swallowed as much emotion and indignation as I could. “I deserve better.”
“Yes, you do. You deserve everything.”
He pressed his lips against mine, crushing them to me like he could push nine years of love into one kiss. I opened my mouth to say, How dare you!, but he slipped his tongue past my lips. And stupid, silly heart fogged my brain with its nonsense, until I returned his kiss, my heart in my throat, as I met his tongue with mine, needing to be closer to him.
It was my first kiss. And it was sloppy, wet, heated, and perfect. He breathed into my mouth, and I swallowed it, trying to absorb as much of him as I could. It was humid nights under the stars. Orange Tic-Tacs used as currency. Kitchen laughter on Spaghetti Sundays. It was us, and I was dizzy. Giddy. Breathless, as the humid rain plastered my hair against his face, slipped between us, and piled wetness onto our drenched skin, like tiny, little lovers caressing one another.
He flipped me onto my back and shifted, so he hovered over me, his entire body glued to mine as his tongue stroked the roof of my mouth. I wanted more. Needed more. I skimmed my fingers under his shirt, exploring the hard edges of each abdominal muscle, more defined than I had remembered them being.
Thunder boomed through the sky, and moments later, lightning followed.
We pushed apart, and Ranie eyed the sky like a wrestler eyeing up his biggest rival. “We should get inside. I’ll walk you back to your apartment.”
I hesitated, wanting to prolong this… whatever this was. “What happens now?”
His knuckles lightly brushed my cheek, and he slid them along my face until he reached my chin. With his thumb, he pushed my lower lip down, parting my lips. “Ask me what I want.”
I spoke around his thumb, my tongue brushing lightly against his skin with every word, “What do you want?”
“You.”
He pressed his lips against mine for one more kiss. It was short and sweet, and so, so right. He pushed off me, stood, and helped me up. Hand-in-hand, he walked me back home, just like he would have back then.
I was smiling the next day when lunch time came around. I turned to Brody, who watched me like I’d just sprouted a crown and declared this school my territory. “What?”
He shook his head, a light grin adorning his lips. “What’s gotten you all smiley?”
“Nothing.” But the smile never left my face as we waited in line for food, and I discretely scanned the cafeteria for Ranie.
Per usual, conversations stilled as he and Niccolaio entered the room. His eyes caught mine, lingered on Brody, and returned to Niccolaio. I waited for him to approach me. To wave. Acknowledge me. Anything after That Kiss.
Instead, he took a seat between Niccolaio and Lacy and ignored me.
Same as the next day.
And the next.
And the next.
Ranie had been right that night he had stolen my first kiss—I didn’t understand.
But I did understand that we were over before we had ever begun.
* * *
Guilt is anger directed at
ourselves—at what we did or
did not do. Resentment is anger
directed at others—at what
they did or did not do.
Peter McWilliams
* * *
The Present
“What the hell is your problem?” Gallo came barreling into my office, uninvited and unannounced. The skimpy lace balconette and panty set pasted to her skin had me hard in an instant.
I pushed my chair further under the desk, and me with it, as I adjusted my wood under the, well, wood. “You know, for someone who’s so insistent on ignoring me, you sure are doing a piss-poor job.”
“I would love to ignore you, Ranieri. I really, really would. But when you do shit like this,” she waved a sheet of paper wildly in the air, “it’s pretty fucking hard.”
That was one, two, three curse words since she’d come in. It was cute. I smirked, plucked the sheet of paper from her hand, and skimmed it over. She had printed out the email I’d sent her last night. Of course, she had. She owned a circa Backstreet-Boys-era flip phone. It probably didn’t even have internet, let alone email.
I handed the paper back and returned my gaze to my desktop screen, so I didn’t have to stare at temptation in lingerie. “What’s the problem?”
She tore it from my fingers. “The problem is you. Who do you think you are, telling me I’m no longer a waitress here?”
“I’m your boss. And you’ve been promoted to floor manager.” I returned my gaze to her, and fuck, she was beautiful. “It’s not like I fired you.”
“I didn’t earn that promotion.” She crossed her arms, and her breasts bounced at the movement.
My gaze lingered for a second too long before I lifted my eyes to hers. “I think you deserve it.”
“Nobody else thinks that. People are already talking.”
“Fuck people. You and I both know none of them matter.” Mischief twinkled in my eyes, and I couldn’t hold it back even if I wanted to. And I didn’t want to. “What are they saying?”
“Uggggh!” It was adorable how flustered she was. Really.
I was smiling more than I had ever smiled since… Well, since we’d been friends. “They’re saying we’re fucking, aren’t they?”
“It’s not funny, Ranieri Luca Andretti.” She remembered my middle name.
I beamed. “It’s a little funny.” The irritation in her eyes swelled, but it was so endearing, I could hardly bring myself to quell it. “Want me to set the record straight?”
“How?”
I pointed to the door. “I could walk out there right now and announce that we’re not fucking, but I wish we were.”
She scowled. “You can set the record straight by giving me my old job back.”
“Not gonna happen, Gallo.”
“It’s Carina to you. Stop acting like we’re still friends, Ranieri.”
“Would it be so bad if
we were?”
“Yes.” She took a step back, distancing herself as far from me as the room would allow. “Because one second, we would be perfectly happy, and the next second, the rug will be pulled out from under me, and I’ll be left mending a broken heart.”
“Did I, Gallo?”
“Carina,” she corrected.
“Answer the question.”
She crossed her arms, the defensive posture quashing my amusement. “Did you what?”
“Did I break your heart?”
She stared me straight in the eyes, her pride as unwavering as her resolve to hate me forever. “You eviscerated it.”
My jaw clenched. “I’m sorry. I mean it.”
“Maybe you are. Doesn’t change a thing.”
“Are you ever going to give me another chance?”
“Just give me my old job back.”
“No.” I took in her ensemble. “Be my manager.”
Did I want her out of those skimpy ass outfits? In public, yes.
Did I want her in here, next to me? Of course.
And she’d get higher pay and a better work environment. I could deal with the rumors, make sure everyone shut their idiotic mouths. Why was this even an argument?
She tilted her chin up. “No. There’s a lot more dignity out there with a serving tray than there is in here with you.” She turned and stormed out.
Okay, so she was mad. She had every right to be. But I’d thaw her. I knew what I wanted. I always had.
And I was finally in the position to chase her.
* * *
* * *
“Wait, what?” Brody shook his head, disbelief coating his every breath. “I thought we were done with that guy when we graduated high school.”
I groaned. “You and me both, Brody.”
I had just caught him up to speed on Ranie buying the club and my unearned promotion. I didn’t want him to worry—he always did—but the perks of having a best friend was having someone to help you shoulder life’s crap.
Ranieri Andretti: A Second-Chance, Enemies-to-Lovers Mafia Romance Novella (The Five Syndicates Book 3) Page 4
