by Sienna Mynx
Romano chuckled. His expression stilled and grew serious. “If he’s stealing from Mickey, you’ll have to. But I think it best you stay until we bring him in, don’t you?”
It was his turn to rise and she couldn’t help but admire how nicely he filled a suit. The man was tall. Why he never appeared as tall from across the dining room before confounded her. He had Lewis beat by an inch or two. Harmony squeezed the cool glass until spasmodic tremors cramped her hand. She stepped back. Romano closed the distance between them. She was forced to maintain his stare. Her breath solidified in her throat. “I don’t know it’s kinda late. I can give you my address. You could send word, maybe?”
“I prefer something less formal.”
“Like?”
“Sing for me. Here. Now.”
“Suga this ain’t The Cotton, and I don’t see Fletch Henderson’s orchestra.” Could he be serious? His eyes were a tawny shade of brown. Now she knew the color and couldn't remember why she wanted to in the first place. The man made her anxious to leave, to stay, to explain herself to the maid who was somewhere in this house judging her. She felt anxious all over. He was closer now, closer than any man besides Lewis had ever been. And with him standing so close she was forced to tilt her head and lift her chin a bit to maintain his stare. She had been right. There was an unspoken connection between them. A deep soul stirring familiarity would eventually lead them toward the forbidden. Secretly she had wanted a bit of forbidden.
It had been months ago when she first saw him. The nights he came, her eyes always drifted to him, drinking and smoking a cigar or a pipe in his private booth. He had such a magnetic pull on her she questioned her sanity at times when she performed and found herself disappointed he hadn’t come. Now here he was, and that strange feeling coursing through her veins wasn’t just anxiety, a bit of excitement stirred her heart to fluttering too.
His gaze lowered to her bosom and lingered there. Romano was so close, his touch was certain to come next. She knew it. She braced for it. Because his hands on her she wouldn’t allow. No matter what the circumstance, no man touched her unless she said so.
A thick membrane of tension swelled between him. Would he touch her, would he ask to, or would he walk away? Harmony held her breath prepared to deal with either outcome. Romano smirked then walked around her and away. “Saw Bessie Smith a few weeks ago,” he said, stopping in front of a shiny copper, mahogany and gold phonograph. “Next to you she’s my favorite singer.”
“You like jazz?” Harmony asked, realizing immediately how stupid the question was.
“Surprised? I love jazz, thanks to you.”
“Me?”
“Do you know her?”
“No.” Did he think all Negroes knew each other? “I’ve met her, saw her perform that is, and met her twice after but I don’t know her.” She quickly answered. Harmony watched him wind the handle of the crank on the side of the player, then drop the needle down on the record. So he owned race music? Why was she surprised? If he didn’t have an affinity for her talents or her music she would’ve never gotten through the door. Turning, Romano removed his suit jacket and tossed it to the chair without a thought. She figured money and nice things came easy to him. She figured a woman like her came easy as well.
“My song?” he spoke, the huskiness lingered in his tone. One of Bessie’s recent recordings filled the room. But Romano wanted his own rendition. Is this why he brought her here? A private show? Harmony felt a tinge of disappointment. Here she was thinking the man had deeper desires. Or was she looking for an excuse to act on her own?
“I’m waiting,” he said, extending his hand.
The symphony that played about them was sweetly enticing. Harmony itched down in her throat to join in the melody. She knew this song, had sang it before. She reached for his hand then stepped into his arms, now humming through the intro. Other than Lewis, she’d never been in a man’s arms. She found Vincenzio Romano’s embrace oddly enticing. So much so, she began to relax. Soon she swayed to the music, singing softly into his ear. Her pelvis brushed hard steel between his legs and she nearly fumbled over a note in the song. Romano kept her close. When he gave her a slight turn through their slow rhythmic dance she caught a glimpse of the maid Mabel peeking in at them. The look on Mabel's face said it all.
For Willie, everything I do tonight is for Willie, and a maybe a little bit for me.
Her hand barely draped over his right shoulder, because of his height her arm had extended straight. The other hand was clasped in his. Their dance was gentle almost innocent. Almost. One look into Romano’s eyes and she knew his intent. Milo had been right, bargain with the devil he’ll take you for a ride.
Romano’s large hands clasped her hips. Harmony forced a demure smile and ignored the pretzel tight knot in her stomach from having his hot palms pressed so firmly to her. When the tightness of his touch eased and his thick fingers smoothly slipped down and around to her rear, terrible regrets assailed her. She closed her eyes and tried her best not to react, having decided when she accepted his hand that she’d let him hold her. Instead she let her singing keep her calm. Romano responded in the like, he rubbed the side of his face against her cheek, with his body somewhat leaned into hers to keep her close. The gruff on his cheek wasn’t rough, the way she imagined it would be. The way Lewis’s cheek was.
Harmony softened. So did the knot of anxiety twisting through her stomach since the moment she approached the mob boss’s table. Even the maid spying didn’t unsettle her. Nothing could touch her when she sang. When the record stopped, she continued to hum in time with the scratch-and-bump of the needle, having no need or use for a melody other than her own. It took her several moments to realize the dance should have ended. Lifting her head from his shoulder, she tried to pull back. But he held her firm. Their faces were inches apart, and she knew he’d see the blush cover her cheeks.
Words he hadn’t spoken since he parted the shores of Sicily escaped him. He whispered them forgetting she didn’t understand his language. He wanted to stop time. Never in his life had a woman’s voice had such an affect on him. Silently he had craved her for months after the first time he heard her sing. He bought all the jazz records he could, trying to capture the calm soothing feeling of her voice that chipped at the iceberg in his chest most would call a heart. The first time he’d seen her she’d caught him by surprise. He had Madden brought to his table immediately to tell him who she was. And weekly no matter the commitment, he’d carve out time for at least one visit to The Cotton to see her perform.
Once he had arrived and found it was her day off. Enraged, he nearly clued his men into his obsession. Now she was here, in his arms, and singing more beautifully than he ever recalled.
“That’s the tops, sweet,” he smirked.
“Thank you,” she whispered, swaying in his arms.
“I’ve watched you for weeks. Listened to you.”
“I know. I’ve noticed,” she said softly. “Thanks for the tips.”
“You knew they were from me?”
“I do now,” she winked.
His chuckle came from a deep hollow space in his throat. One could easily forget that this man was as ruthless as he was handsome. His humor simmered to a low groan. “Smart girl.”
Romano’s arms tightened around her waist. She was crushed against every hard angle of his chest, and it felt good. Though she knew it was well past what her Grams would have called appropriate, having a man hold her was near sublime. She took a deep breath and adjusted her smile. The heat of lust spread so fast under her skin she could feel herself vibrate with need. “Maybe I should go now.”
“I’ve always wanted to do this.” Romano pulled back and straightened from the way he held her. His hands went to her neatly pinned hair. Harmony stilled. She steadied her breath in anticipation while he pulled the pins out and let them drop to the floor. Her thickly wound pin-curls fell free in frozen spirals about her face. His fingers ran through the coarse strand
s, and more pins dropped to the floor, raining small metallic sounds. He began to massage her scalp gently with the pads of his fingers. It felt sinfully divine. Her head rolled back slowly and her eyes shut. It was shameful how much she enjoyed the game. Romano then combed his fingers from the roots through her tangles and spread her untamed tresses over her shoulders.
Vinnie. The name buzzed through her skull with such potent force she felt herself go weak around the knees, so her hands lifted to hold his sides. All ideas of how she'd escape a night in his bed dissolved. “I… I thought… I never, uh… Mr. Romano… Vinnie,” she stammered.
Realizing how undone she’d become, she snapped out of it. With her locks falling freely over her eyes, Harmony nervously touched her hair and stepped back from him. What just happened? In an instant she had lost her senses. How was that even possible with a man like Vinnie Romano? The pounding of her heartbeat made her short on breath. Lewis was a demanding lover. Even in her inexperience she knew her man was a tiger. Most nights she’d have to fight her way out of his bed just for relief, and pray Willie would come home from those streets so Lewis would give her a break.
The loss of her man hurt. It hurt to the core. She never even dared think another man could spark the flames of desire in her again. Romano reminded her of Lewis. His touch firm and commanding, his hold strong, and that look in his eyes had her stomach doing flips. It wasn’t just the physical. Lewis said he stumbled into church one Sunday, a bit inebriated he mistook it for the boarding house next door. But he said he first saw her in the pew and heard her voice. Said he fell in love with her instantly. Romano had that same smoldering look in his eyes. She wasn’t crazy, she’d lived for that look from Lewis, and she’d recognize it anywhere.
She needed to get out, and now.
“Excuse me,” Harmony stammered.
“For?” he asked.
She couldn't answer. All she knew was in a blink, desire had rolled its way up through her with such force she forgot her middle name. Who could blame her? Power rippled off him in sexy waves hitting her with full intensity. Instead of reclaiming her senses that brief connection they shared melted away her defense.
Again he spoke his language and she frowned. He smirked and translated the words.
“Trust me.”
Is he serious? Grams always said, with a man trust is a trick horse, turn your back on common sense and get kicked in your head for it. Of course a mob boss like Romano thinks it should be given freely if he asked. Well, I’m no fool. Sure he may like to hear me carry a tune. Sure he wants a little something extra. But he’s like any man. Once his appetite is satisfied that maid Mabel is going to be showing me to the door.
Romano stepped back, but continued to hold her hand. Expectation weighed in his gaze. “You always this jumpy Songbird?”
“No,” she said honestly, gauging his response. Humor sparkled in his eyes but he didn’t laugh. She offered him a sly smile. “I’ll try to relax Vinnie, if you keep your hands to yourself.”
Romano’s brows lowered and leveled over his hot gaze. Maybe he’d appreciate her candor. “Yes, try to relax. As for my hands…”
“It’s getting late.” Harmony pointed out. “I think I’ll leave now.”
“Your brother? You going to abandon him?” Romano’s gaze sharpened and so did his speech. “When we’re so close to finding him. I thought you’d do anything for Lil Will?”
The question hit her hard in the chest. Did she have some deep destructive desire to break every personal rule in her life for a fleeting feel of lust? No. But Willie had gotten mixed up with these men and she was his only hope. “I will,” she said, then pressed her lips together to keep the rest of her objections at bay.
He extended his hand once more.
For a brief moment she considered his open palm and the consequences of her actions. Could Lewis see her now? What would Grams think? Harmony lifted her hand slowly and placed it in his. Romano pressed a light kiss to her knuckles with his gaze trained on hers. He then led her out of the parlor.
Together they entered the dark hall to the staircase. Mabel had eased back into the shadows, still she peeked at her from behind a door. A stony look of disgust and disbelief turned what were possibly gentle features hard. Harmony held to her pride and made the climb with her head high. Romano took the lead pulling her hand behind him in silence. For Willie, she kept reminding herself. Romano stopped at a bedroom door and pushed it inward. Harmony could barely see inside. She didn’t have to. She knew what awaited her there. Should I delay the inevitable and make sure Willie was all right? What do I have to offer him but this, and once it’s had, what then?
“Harmony?” he said her name, noticing her resistance.
She flashed a small smile of her own then stepped inside. The room was dark, but the bed lay clearly visible and even more intimidating than the mobster that stood behind her. The door lock clicked, engaged and she bit down hard on her bottom lip. Apprehension gnawed at her confidence. She forced herself to exchange glances from the bed to him when he turned on a lamp. Again, she was struck by the hard edges that strengthened his handsomeness. Here she was, alone, with this enigma of a man. Most coloreds avoided the Sicilian and Irish crime bosses, though desire had reshaped her fear. Tall, with glossy golden brown hair, he had fiery hot amber brown eyes, and the most delectable mouth she had ever seen on a man. His cool presence excited her just like it did with Lewis. His olive skin in the darkly lit room made him appear a bit more native than the pale faces of the white men he kept company with. She remembered Grams warnings against the excited fluttering in her breast. She didn’t listen then, she wouldn’t listen now.
“Grams. That was rude. You barely said two words to Lewis.” Harmony closed the door and walked back to the kitchen. “He just coming to see about Willie.”
“Mony, take a seat.” Her grandmother turned from the stove with her fist to her hip and a serious frown creasing her brow. Harmony knew that look. She thought it ridiculous that she would get saddled with the burden of explaining her little brother’s friends. Lewis didn’t come for her. He was just a nice guy to think of giving her some chocolates every once and awhile.
“Yes ma’am.” Harmony said sitting at the table.
Grams had been sluggish lately. She stopped going to Miss Moncrief’s and now did laundry from her back room. It scared Harmony to see the woman she knew as her mother so tired all the time. Even now her grandmother heaved and breathed hard breaths from the simplest of tasks. And the tired lines of stress and worry lent a hint of sadness to her round, kind face. Her skin was a nut brown shade, and her hair, streaked grey from the temples, was always worn parted in two plaits. She’d raised them since Harmony was four and her brother a babe. Her mother had run off when their father disappeared. Harmony had no idea if either of her parents were alive.
“I see the way that man looks at you when he comes to see about Lil Will, knowing full well he done passed that boy in the streets on his way up our step. He not fooling me girl. Showin’ up at my door with those sweets, flowers, he courtin’ you Mony.”
Harmony’s eyes stretched wide. “But he said…”
“Don’t matter what he say Mony it’s what he do. You blooming baby. Men like him bound to notice. The problem with Lewis is he in the world, you ain’t. You spend mo’ time in the church pew singing and in those books of yours than understanding the attentions of a man. But if you keep on acceptin’ those gifts he gone expect more. Every man wants somethin’, even if what they give you is barely nothin.” Grams pulled out the yellow kitchen chair so worn on its legs the paint had all but disappeared in the wood. She sat and wiped at her brow then forced a smile. “Been saving up for you sweetheart, to get you out of Harlem. Send you South to learn in one of those colored schools. You gone be something baby, a teacher, or maybe a nurse. I can’t worry too much about Willie, he got too much of his daddy in him. But you, baby, you special, that voice of yours was sent straight from God. Don’t let the
desires of a man change who you become.”
Harmony blinked away the beginning of tears. Her grandmother died two weeks later from her weak heart. And everything changed. Including her promise to be somebody special. Lewis was there for her, comforted her, even paid for the service. But his attentions had shifted from Willie to her solely. Before she knew the name of the new uncharted emotions she felt over his naughty touches and prolonged kisses she was in his bed becoming his woman.
Now she was alone.
Her own woman.
And here with a man who could only lead her down the wrong path. Just like Lewis, the danger and powerful maleness about Romano made her weak. Every time he spoke her name, she felt an insane urge to touch him. In fact, the more time she spent alone with him, the more those urges consumed her sensibility, and she was oddly grateful for it.
Romano walked over to the bed. The surface was bathed in sparse light, just enough to chase away the shadows. Her eyes skipped over to the wall. It was a rich and masculine room with pecan wood paneling. The bed had tall dark mahogany posts and a broad headboard. It was indeed the largest bed she’d ever laid her eyes on outside Pinkleston’s furniture store. Why would a single man like him need a bed so big? She and Lewis shared one less than half its size and Willie slept on the other side of a strung up sheet on a cot.
