by Mia Madison
There’s a number on the back, written in a strong hand. Beneath it are two words.
Call me.
Oh my god. Oh my god. I am in so much trouble.
Jamming the card back in the pocket of my top, I slam out of the stall just as a customer comes in. “Sorry,” I say at her startled look, and pretend to wash my hands at the sink before I hurry out again.
Cait makes it back to the counter two seconds after my butt slides onto my seat. “Well?”
“He wrote a number on the back.” The words tumble out of me in a breathless rush. “Maybe it’s his personal cell. And he wrote ‘Call me.’”
She gives me big eyes. “Oh my god!”
“I know!” I’m so worked up I want to bounce on my seat, but I can’t do that with Kosta watching. “What do I do?”
She gives me a look. “You know what I’ll say.” And I do. She’s happily in love with an Adamo man; of course she wants me to roll the dice on my own hottie.
I fiddle with my silverware. “My dad’ll kill me.”
“So don’t tell him. Yet.”
I roll my eyes at her. “He’s still mad about the night we went to the club. The last thing I want is to give him more reasons not to trust me.”
“Erin, it’s not like you’re in high school; you’re a grown woman. I love my parents too, but I couldn’t let their preconceptions stand between me and Tonio. You have to do what’s right for you.” She squeezes my hand. “Gotta go take care of customers. I’ll be back.” She leaves and I pick at my food.
I sense him first, a large warm presence behind me, not quite touching me, and then two curled fists rest on the counter on either side of me. He’s leaning over me. Pinning me in.
“You’re not eating, Blondie.” His voice is soft and sexy, and a tingle runs through me.
I don’t look at him, though. That way lies all kinds of danger. “No … I … uh …”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say automatically.
“Right.” Then my plate is in one hand and he scoops up my silverware with the other. “Bring your drinks,” he says, and I turn to see him carrying my food back to his booth, which is now empty.
For a couple of seconds all I can do is sit there. Mouth open, check; metaphorical steam coming out my ears, check. Of all the nerve! When I send Cait a “Can you believe this?” look, she bites her lip, but her eyes are twinkling.
I consider walking out, but I’m hungry. Also annoyed, and if I leave I won’t get to tell him that. On my way to Kosta’s booth with my juice and iced tea, however, I detour past Cait. “Tonio does stuff like this?” I say in an undertone.
Her smile gets bigger. “They’re alpha males, Erin. They’re gonna be bossy.”
“Alpha, schmalpha,” I mutter. “I’m so not a fan of being bossed around.” She stifles a snort of laughter. “Seriously? You like it?”
“Not always,” she says, eyes bright with suppressed merriment. “But it has its upsides.”
Including punishments, it would seem. I have to admit part of me is curious. Whatever Cait and Tonio have going on, it’s working for her big time. Him too, no doubt, but I haven’t seen him recently to confirm it.
When I turn toward Kosta’s booth, he’s watching us. My plate is right next to him, but I slide in on the opposite side, as far away as possible. His eyes narrow, but all he says is, “What was that?” with a head tilt toward Cait.
I’m still irked, so I don’t hold back. “Just a consultation on annoying alpha male traits.”
He grins. Grins! “Sass,” he says. “I like it.” Deciding he’s a lost cause, I reach for my food, but he says, “Not so fast, babe.”
My eyes get wide. There’s so much steam coming out my ears now they must be bright red. “I don’t get to eat?”
“What you don’t get to do is sit way over there,” he says, and pats the bench beside him. “Slide over here.”
I glare at him. “Maybe I just want to eat my food in peace and quiet.”
“You were ignoring your food, not eating it,” he says implacably. “Now you’re gonna enjoy it, with some conversation.”
“Are you always this pushy?”
“Your food’s getting cold, Erin.” I guess he is, then.
“I’ll just drink my juice,” I say, taking a sip from the glass that fortunately is right in front of me.
“There’s the kind of sass that gets you kissed,” he says, and I bite my lip as my mind floods with vivid fantasies of kissing Kosta. “And then there’s the kind that gets you spanked.”
My Own Personal Fantasy
I gasp at the same time as my inner muscles tighten. Damn. Everything Cait said is suddenly making all kinds of sense.
“I’m not okay with you not eating, babe,” he continues. “So you can get your excellent ass over here, or we can find a quiet spot for me to turn you over my knee.”
Oh my god. I’m desperately trying to ignore the fact that my panties are getting damp. As part of this effort, I ramp up my snark. “A quiet spot? Gee, that’s big of you.”
“Or we can do it right here,” he says, and the prickling along the back of my neck warns me I’ve pushed him far enough. He’s not joking, at least not about my eating. I really don’t want to find out if he’s willing to spank me in front of a room full of witnesses, because I have a feeling he absolutely would.
And it’s totally wrong and pervy of me that beneath the discomfort that image evokes runs a dark current of desire.
“Tyrant,” I mutter, as I scoot along the inside of the booth until I’m next to him. Kosta’s knee touches mine, and electricity jolts through me. I fork up some eggs, and sure enough, they’re cold. What’s more, my break is up.
“I have to go,” I say. His face darkens, and I explain, “Not trying to be difficult; my break is over, and I have to get back to work.”
After a moment, he says, “Okay, babe. Take the food with you.”
“You were right,” I say. “It’s cold. I’ll get something on my next break.” I start to go back the other way in the booth, but his touch on my arm stops me. Heat sizzles through me and my breathing gets shallow.
“Come this way,” he says, sliding out of his end of the booth. “It’s faster.” My naughty brain wants to make a joke about coming faster, but that would be like poking a tiger with a sharp stick. Not very smart.
When I reach the edge of the bench, he helps me up. His hand is large, and warm, and a little rough, and electricity sparks along my skin. “Thanks for the … conversation,” I say. “See you around.”
Except Kosta doesn’t release my hand. No, he keeps hold of it and with his other, reaches out to tuck my hair behind my ear. His fingers brush the outer shell, and my knees go weak.
“Count on it, Blondie,” he says softly, and my whole body turns into one big erogenous zone. Right at this moment, he could probably touch the ends of my hair and make me come.
Finally, he lets me go. I take three steps back, wiggle my fingers at him, have a quick telepathic bestie conversation by making wide eyes at Cait, and head toward the garage. Not looking back at Kosta is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
“Sorry,” I say to Rico when I clock back in late. “I’ll take it off my afternoon break.” The stack of paperwork has grown in my absence, and I get busy entering and filing.
I’ve made a dent in the pile when the atmosphere in the garage changes. I look up to see Kosta coming toward me, holding out a paper-wrapped packet. “Breakfast panini,” he says. “Eat it while it’s warm, babe.”
I meet his eyes, and an emotion I can’t define shimmers through me. Whatever it is, it leaves me feeling strangely vulnerable. “Thanks,” I whisper, taking the sandwich.
“Later, Blondie,” he says, and strolls off to his car, which is finished with its oil change or whatever routine maintenance it needed. I glance around the garage to find Rico watching me again. Worried that he’ll think I’m slacking, I set the sandwich aside an
d get back to work.
The rest of the day goes by quickly. There’s always plenty to do, so whenever my mind tries to wander off toward a certain sexy-but-annoying alpha male, I force it back to the task at hand. It’s not until I’m clocked out and heading for my car that Rico appears at my side.
“You okay?” he says.
I blink. “Yeah. Why?”
“You been quiet all day. Ever since you came back from break this morning. Not like you.”
It’s a little unnerving that he knows that, since I don’t usually work with him. “I’m fine,” I say.
Rico scrubs his hands over his face and through his short-cropped dark hair. “One thing I know. When a woman says she’s fine, she’s not fine.”
At that, I can’t help smiling. I’m touched that he cares enough to ask. “Rico,” I say, “I’m okay. Really.”
“All right. Have it your way.” He blows out a breath. “Be careful with Kosta.”
A chill chases down my spine. “Careful? About what?”
He crosses his massive arms and looks at me for several moments, and I get the feeling he’s trying to decide if I can handle whatever he’s not telling me. Finally, he says, “You’ll have to ask him.”
“Really.” My hands go to my hips. “You want me to ask Kosta why his cousin is warning me to be careful with him.”
There’s a glint in Rico’s eye. “Or you could just stay away from him.”
I study him, turning his words over in my mind. Ask Kosta, or stay away. Rico’s thrown down the gauntlet. Which he wouldn’t have done if he didn’t think I could handle it.
So I smile and kiss his cheek. Unlike Cait, I’m on the tall side, so I only have to stand on tiptoe a little bit to do it. “Thanks, Rico.” He doesn’t say anything as I get into my car, but I think I see approval in his eyes.
I wave at him, pull out of the parking lot, and head home. Which, to save money until I graduate from college, is still my parents’ house. The usual chaos of dinnertime is underway when I get there, so I head down to the basement, dump my stuff, change out of my work uniform, and come back up to help.
During dinner, I manage to skim over my day at Revved without arousing any suspicions. I clear the table, my sisters load the dishwasher, and my little brother settles in with his homework while I head back down to the basement. It’s finished, and there’s an extra family room down here with a pool table and a tv, but one end is closed off and all mine.
Dad and I had a heart-to-heart after Cait and I snuck out to go to Kosta’s club, since that little escapade involved me messing with our home security system so we wouldn’t get caught leaving. We’d done it for years, but that was the first time I was ever brought home by the cops.
I’ve kept my nose clean since then. I’m not really that much of a wild child, and my bestie and partner in crime — so to speak — isn’t available anymore, now that she spends all her free time with Antonio. I wasn’t lying when I said I’m happy for her … but I miss her.
Flopping on my bed, I pull Kosta’s card out from where I’d stashed it in my nightstand. Call me. Such an innocuous, unassuming phrase.
Except it’s not, really. It’s a command, a demand, a summons from my own personal fantasy. Do I have the nerve to follow through?
Be careful with Kosta.
Rico’s caution only makes me more curious. But whatever he meant, I don’t need warnings to know that tangling with Constantine Adamo is a bad idea. Reluctantly, I put the card away.
Maybe I can convince myself to date a nice college boy. Grabbing my laptop, I force myself to search for online dating sites and am scrolling unenthusiastically through the results when my phone rings. It’s Gina, my friend and fellow Revved waitress.
“Hey chica,” I greet her. “What’s up?”
“In the Frame is having one of their under-21 evenings,” she says. “Want to waste one of our last few nights of being too young to drink sipping alcohol-free beverages and dancing with skinny teenage boys who stare at our tits?”
Rumors
“You make it sound so appealing,” I say, laughing. “Why would we do this, exactly?”
“Because my sibs are driving me crazy and I need to get out of the house.” Like me, Gina’s the firstborn in her family. “Or we could rustle up some alternate IDs and go to a more happening place.”
“You know what happened last time I did that,” I remind her.
“Yeah, getting marched out of a nightclub by the cops is such a buzzkill. Maybe we should wear disguises.”
I laugh again. Gina is a crazy woman. “Okay, In the Frame it is. We can fend off the skinny oglers.”
“Right. See you there in an hour?”
“Sounds good.”
I take my time getting ready. A shimmering red dress that won’t give my parents a heart attack — or not much of one — and sexy-but-comfortable(ish) shoes that I can dance in. Light makeup, carefully styled hair, and a tiny purse for my wallet and phone.
The basement has a separate entrance, which Cait and I always used when we wanted to sneak out, but since my talk with Dad I haven’t snuck anywhere. When I go back up, my parents are on the couch in the living room together, snuggled up in front of the tv. Mom’s head is on Dad’s shoulder, his arm around her. “Hey,” I say. “I’m meeting Gina at In the Frame.”
They turn their heads in unison to look at me, and I get a little pang in my heart. Mom and Dad are so in sync with each other. I want that with someone.
“Have fun,” Mom says.
“Call if you’ll be late,” Dad adds.
“Okay. See you later.”
Parking’s at a premium downtown; I find a spot a few blocks away. Fortunately, it’s a mild night, and even without a jacket I’m comfortable. There’s a line out the door when I reach the club, but it moves quickly, and a few minutes later I’m inside. The walls are black, decorated with movie posters, memorabilia, and portraits of screen stars from the 1920s on. It somehow manages to be closer to cool than cheesy.
I spot Gina waving at me a few seconds later from a little round table not far from the bar and the dance floor. She’s in a purple dress that looks fantastic with her red hair. “Nachos or potato skins?” she says as soon as I reach her.
“Damn. Tough call. If there were more of us, I’d say both.”
“Woman after my own heart.” We settle on potato skins, and Gina goes to order while I hold the table. “So,” she says when she gets back with a soda for me. “You and Constantine Adamo.”
“And your real agenda emerges,” I say teasingly. “Were your siblings really driving you crazy?”
Gina grins. “No more than they ever do.” She takes a sip of her drink and says, “Looked like the two of you were getting into it pretty good today.”
“He drives me nuts,” I admit. “But not at all in a brotherly way.”
“Gotta appreciate a hot man,” Gina concurs, looking over at the dance floor, which is indeed packed with skinny high school boys. “So you think he’s worth the hassle?”
“Maybe,” I say. Definitely, says my libido. “I’m willing to investigate the possibilities.”
“And the rumors don’t bother you?”
I screw my face up at her. “What rumors?” Her expression changes, and I get a warning chill. “Gina, what rumors?”
“Oh, hell. I should learn to keep my big mouth shut.”
Our potato skins arrive, and I wait until the server’s gone before I tell her, “No, you shouldn’t. If there are rumors, I want to know what they are. Unless it’s just nasty gossipy stuff.”
She regards me glumly, her usual buoyant spirit muted. “Not those kind of rumors. I just assumed you knew, from Cait or someone.”
I make a note to ask my bestie about whatever Gina is going to tell me. “Lay it out, girlfriend. Whatever it is, I’m better off knowing.”
“I guess so. Well.” She sighs and picks up a potato skin, taking a bite while I wait impatiently. “Rumor has it that some br
anches of the Adamo family — and Kosta’s is one of those branches — might, possibly, engage in activities that the police frown upon.”
I feel my eyes get big. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“What kind of activities?” My heart is racing and not in a good way. I’m a cop’s daughter, for crying out loud. No wonder Dad was freaked about me talking to Kosta.
Gina shakes her head. “I really don’t know. It’s all innuendo, wink-wink nudge-nudge kind of stuff. Like, suggestions that maybe some of what they do isn’t entirely above board, but they get away with it because they’re Adamos.” She hesitates, then goes on. “The only specific thing I’ve ever heard is that a couple of friends told me you can score drugs at Kosta’s.”
“Fuck.” My head goes straight down to our table, and only Gina’s fast action keeps me from getting my hair in the potato skins. “Not drugs.” I can’t believe the beautiful man who wanted to be sure I ate would be okay with that.
“They aren’t my thing so I’ve never tried,” she says. “Maybe my friends were just blowing smoke. And even if they did score, it doesn’t mean Kosta knows about it. It could all be underground, informal stuff.”
“Yeah.” It doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better, but it helps a little.
“Sorry to ruin the mood.”
“It’s all right,” I say. “I’m glad you told me.” I’m about to ask her more about the rumors when my phone rings. I check the display and it’s an unknown number.
A very familiar-looking unknown number. I don’t have Kosta’s card with me, but this might be what he wrote on the back. “Hang on,” I say to Gina, and accept the call. “Hello?”
There’s a pause and then Kosta says, “Where the hell are you?”
My spine straightens. “Nice to talk to you too,” I snap. “I’m fine, thanks, and how are you?”
“Babe.” My nipples go hard at that word. It’s full of impatience and male charisma and just a hint of danger.
And that’s when I stop lying to myself, because it hits me with undeniable clarity: Dangerous is exactly what I want. Rico’s warnings and Gina’s rumors notwithstanding, Kosta draws me like the proverbial moth to a flame precisely because he’s not safe.
