“Hi, I’m Ella Rose,” I slurred. “What’s your name?”
He laughed as my consciousness trickled away, slipping through my fingers like water. “You’ll eventually learn to call me Master, Donatella Rossi.”
Fuck.
When I finally came to, I was in a queen-sized bed with silky cotton sheets and a down comforter.
I knew it was down because my nose itched. The pillows were too. Sitting up, I sneezed, which made my head pound so hard I thought I might be sick. I had a raging headache and a mouth that tasted like a rat had crawled inside and died. Whatever I’d consumed hadn’t been just beer.
Although it was a muted roar, I knew what a plane engine sounded like. Judging by the bed and en suite bathroom, I was in a very expensive private jet. I supposed it was better than being locked in the trunk of a car on the way to a shallow grave like I’d expected.
I probably should have been terrified, but I was more angry than afraid. If my kidnapper had wanted me dead, I probably wouldn’t have woken from my drugged sleep. He’d have executed me in the parking lot instead of loading me into a posh aircraft. At the very least, I’d have been restrained. He might have left me naked, which was scary by itself, but I was alive and free to move around.
Everything was too confusing, and I didn’t know what to think. If he didn’t want me dead, what did he want? Not knowing was almost worse.
I sat up and tried to rub the tension from my neck, but my hand fell on stiff leather instead of bare skin.
“Hell no, that asshole did not collar me.” Tugging at the thick leather gained me nothing except another broken nail. The buckle was secured with some sort of locking mechanism I couldn’t figure out without seeing it.
“Fucker,” I muttered, trudging to the bathroom. I took care of business and washed up. One glance in the mirror made me want to hide under the sheets. My eyes were swollen from my allergic reaction to the down bedding and there was a shiner on my cheekbone from a wayward elbow, which had happened during the derby.
My hip also ached, a sharp stab of pain that probably came from Alice’s body check dropping me to my ass in the first jam. Man, I wanted to be Alice when I grew up. Well into her fifties, she had three grandkids and still managed to be a fantastic blocker.
Focus, dammit!
Worse, I still couldn’t figure out the lock on the collar. I eyed the shower. I stank, and it might help relieve some of my aches and pains. Then again, if I smelled bad, whoever had taken me might be less likely to touch me. Without thinking, I exited the lavatory.
“A beautiful woman shouldn’t play such dangerous sports. You look horrible.”
Flinching, I bit back a squeak of surprise, then darted forward and grabbed the comforter, wrapping it around myself. It would make me sneeze again, but I didn’t want him seeing me.
The sexy stubble still covered his jaw and the voice was the same, but he wore a suit instead of jeans. His dark eyes twinkled with amusement, yet I didn’t see any malice. Maybe he had a better poker face than I did.
I should have known he was too good to be true. The Rossi legacy had finally caught up to me. It was a pity my future killer was so gorgeous. Then again, he hadn’t done a thing to hurt me.
Yet.
Shivering, I tried to regain my composure. Maybe I could talk my way out of this. My studio might pay to get me back, and I had a decent nest egg tucked away for emergencies.
“That might have something to do with being drugged and kidnapped. Where are you taking me?” Without warning, I sneezed, then wiped my watery eyes.
“Are you ill?” he asked, frowning.
“No, I’m allergic to down,” I retorted. “Before you get started doing whatever it is asshole goodfellas do to innocent women born into the wrong families, I have nothing to do with any Rossi enterprise, whether legal or not, but if it’s money you’re after, my studio will pay for my return.”
I had no desire to be sucked into that filthy family business. My mother had given up everything to keep me safe, including her health and eventually her life. Lack of health insurance and money meant her cancer went undetected until it was too late. She worked two jobs until the very end to keep me in college, and I’d never known it.
She’d asked me to come home the weekend she died, and I… I hadn’t made it in time. I swallowed the sob trying to crawl up my throat. God, I missed her.
“I have no interest in ransoming you,” he murmured, piercing me with those dark eyes. “Did you know your grandfather is dying of cancer?”
“I—”
“Just as your mother did.” He fingered a small device in his hand, then looked at me. “Of course, you abandoned her too.”
CONTINUE READING
THE SOUND OF SILENCE
A Black Rose Collection Novel
by Dakota Willink
CHAPTER 1
Gianna
Cincinnati, Ohio
I slid my palms over my black apron, smearing the sticky remnants of vermouth over the gold embroidered Teddy’s Tavern logo. I surveyed the long row of customers sitting at the polished mahogany bar of the upscale restaurant in Hyde Park. Most were dressed in business attire, having just come from work to hit happy hour. They chatted away with their colleagues, all seemingly satisfied—for now. It wouldn’t be long before I was flagged down to make another martini.
“Gia!” Theodore Reeves, also known as Teddy, called out to me from the door leading to the kitchen. “Nat is swamped since the new girl called in. Can you do a sweep of the tables over in section A?”
I glanced over at Natalia, my co-worker and best friend. She definitely looked frazzled.
“On it, Teddy,” I replied with a little salute.
“Thanks, doll. It’s impossible to find good help these days.”
I moved around to the end of the bar and waved him off.
“Come on now. You know they all can’t be perfect like me,” I joked as I headed over to my friend. When Natalia saw me, I watched her shoulders visibly sag with relief. “What can I help you with?”
“Table seven and nine need drink refills. Table five’s food should be ready in the kitchen. Take your pick. Grab the drinks or get the food,” she said in a rush. A strand of jet-black hair fell loose from her ponytail and she hastily tucked it behind her ear.
“I’ll get the drinks. That way I can keep an eye on the bar customers too,” I suggested.
“Good idea. I can’t believe how slammed we are today! With the Danbury Musical Festival going on, I thought it would be slower.”
I cocked one eyebrow and leaned in closer to her so I wasn’t overheard by any of the patrons.
“Seriously, Nat? What you see here is Cincinnati’s most prestigious yuppie crowd. Do you honestly think any of them would be going to see Fall Out Boy or Sublime?”
She smirked, then pinched up her face as though she was trying to picture it.
“No, I suppose you’re right. I can’t imagine this swanky bunch anywhere near a mosh pit.”
I laughed, patting her shoulder, then headed in the direction of the tables needing drink refills.
Five hours later, the restaurant had cleared out and there were only a few stragglers left at the bar. I leaned on the back counter watching Natalia as she counted our tips for the night. She handed me a stack of cash totaling six hundred dollars.
“Good night for tips,” I mused, grabbing my purse from under the bar. Separating the money, I put half in my wallet and the rest into a worn, tattered white envelope. After I put my purse back under the counter, I glanced up to see Natalia staring at me with a sad look on her face.
“What?” I asked.
“Just thinking, toots. That’s all.”
“Thinking about what?”
“About how long it’s going to be before your mom’s bills are paid off,” she quietly replied.
Emotion scorched my throat and I tried to ignore the stab of pain I felt whenever I was reminded of my mother. Natalia was referring to
the credit card debt I racked up trying to help my mother pay for the prescription drugs she needed to survive the death grip cancer had ensnared her in. She’d had decent health insurance, but sometimes it wasn’t enough. At the end of the day, nothing I did mattered. No amount of money spent was enough to save her. I lost her to ovarian cancer nearly a year ago and I still missed her something fierce. Unfortunately, the small life insurance policy she had was only enough to cover the burial expenses and I was stuck paying off the mountain of credit card debt.
“I only owe another few thousand,” I said with a shrug.
Four thousand two hundred ninety-eight to be exact, but who’s counting?
“After they’re paid, what comes next?”
I pursed my lips and contemplated her question. I knew what she was asking. Both of us frequently talked about our bucket lists and all the things we wanted to accomplish before we turned thirty. The only thing holding me back from scratching things off my list was the credit card debt. Once that was paid, I could begin to really live my life for the first time.
“I know we talked about traveling but I think I want to go to college first,” I blurted out.
“College? You’ve never mentioned that before.”
“Yeah, well… the money might be good at Teddy’s, but I don’t want to work here forever.”
“Hey, I heard that!” shouted Teddy. “What’s wrong with being a lifer?”
I looked up to see him sitting at a table near the far side of the restaurant with Ben Santos, the unofficial bouncer at Teddy’s Tavern. The stack of leather-bound books in front of Teddy told me he was tallying up the weekly numbers. He winked at me and I smiled.
“Being a lifer means I won’t be able to take a month off to backpack across Europe. Mark my words—I will do that one day. But,” I drawled out in a teasing voice, “maybe I’ll stick around part-time just for you, old man.”
Ben snorted a laugh which earned him a scowl from Teddy.
“This place wouldn’t be the same without you,” Teddy grumbled.
“And what about me?” Natalia asked accusingly.
“Alright, you too,” Teddy begrudgingly admitted, but we could all tell it was in jest. “You girls keep this place running like a well-oiled machine, and the customers love you too.”
I was about to respond but the sound of a glass being slammed down on the bar stopped me.
“Hey, if you can wrap it up anytime soon, I need another drink down here!” yelled a man sitting five stools to my left.
I straightened quickly and headed his way. He was scowling, but I simply plastered a sweet smile on my face and reached for his glass—which I had literally filled just ten minutes before. I tossed Ben a sideways glance to signal we might need to keep an eye on the guy.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, sir. Another Jameson? Neat, right?”
“That’s right,” he confirmed, watching me through narrowed eyes. The guy wasn’t a regular customer, of that I was sure, nor did this seem like a place he’d frequent. Almost everyone who came to the upscale tavern looked like they just stepped off the pages of a Nordstrom catalog. The five-star restaurant reeked of class—but definitely not this guy. He was sloppy in an unbuttoned plaid flannel with a faded concert tee underneath. His hair was a mess and he desperately needed a shave. He appeared more suited for the crowd at the music festival than Teddy’s. Still, he was handsome in a rugged sort of way.
I grabbed a napkin, placed the drink on top of it, and slid it across the bar to him. I was about to ask if he needed anything else when he grabbed hold of my wrist. I tried to tug my hand free but he held firm as his gaze roamed up and down my body. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. When you worked behind a bar, getting hit on by guys who overindulged in their booze tended to be a nightly occurrence. Nine out of ten times, the best thing to do was kill them with kindness and move along.
“Would you like something to eat? The kitchen is technically closed but I’m sure I can get the cook to throw something together for you,” I told him with a sugary sweet smile on my face.
“I don’t want nothin’ to eat,” he slurred. “I heard the customers here love you. I can see why. What’s not to love about that tight little ass of yours? Gia, that’s your name, right?”
The smile I’d plastered on fell. When my strategy of killing them with kindness didn’t work, a blunter approach never failed.
“Gianna, actually. Only my friends call me Gia,” I pointed out, making it clear he was very much not my friend. When I tried to pull my hand away again, he only squeezed tighter. I took in his glassy eyes and a chill raced down my spine. He most likely started drinking well before he wandered into Teddy’s and he was giving me a serious case of the creeps. “Sir, please let go of me.”
“What if I don’t wanna?” he sneered.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ben jump from his chair. Before he could get to the creepy guy, another man with dark, wavy hair abruptly stood up. He’d been quietly sitting two stools down and I’d nearly forgotten he was even there. The dark-haired man grabbed the drunk guy by the front of his scruffy t-shirt and spun him around. Everything happened so fast yet it unfolded like a slow-motion video replay at the same time.
“The lady said let go of her,” the man growled.
Startled, my very drunk customer swayed slightly as he put both hands up in the air.
“What the fuck, man! I was only jokin’ around with her.”
“Take your jokes elsewhere. They aren’t funny here.”
I saw Ben slowly moving toward the two men, braced for a potential fight. Teddy wasn’t far behind him, both looking like mountain lions stalking their prey.
“You heard the man. Take your jokes elsewhere,” Ben reiterated, stepping between the two men in an attempt to defuse things in a non-violent way. The entire situation was bizarre. Altercations like this just didn’t happen at Teddy’s Tavern.
His glazed eyes landed sluggishly on each of the men surrounding him. Then he looked at me, scowled, and took a step back.
“Alright, alright. I get your point. I’m goin’,” he said. Without another word, he not-so-gracefully sauntered out of the tavern, defiantly tipping over every empty chair he passed on his way to the door.
“Asshole,” Natalia muttered.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interfered like that. It’s instinct I guess,” said the dark-haired man. I turned my attention back to him and watched as he pulled out his wallet to flash a shiny badge at me. Apparently, my rescuer wasn’t just a nice guy—he was a cop too.
I shook my head and rubbed my wrist.
“No, it’s okay. I’m just glad he left before things escalated. Um… thank you for your help,” I said with a small shrug. “How about a drink? On the house,” I offered.
“Maybe another time. I need to get going,” he said. Reaching into the pocket of the leather tri-fold wallet, he tossed a fifty on the table. “That piece of shit didn’t pay for his drinks but that should cover it. Enjoy the rest of your night, Gianna.”
I paused at the way my name sounded coming from his lips. I knew he must have heard my conversation with the drunk guy, but there was just something about the way it rolled off his tongue that made me flush. I took another look at my rescuer. He was attractive—very attractive actually. With all the commotion, I hadn’t taken a moment to appreciate his sculpted cheekbones and full mouth. He appeared older than me but still had a youthful look that made me think he wasn’t more than thirty. His eyes were a deep brown, nearly matching the dark waves on his head. His crisp white shirt stretched over the wide span of his shoulders, tapering down to tuck into the trim waistline of his khaki pants.
He flashed a crooked grin, completely captivating me. Whether he knew it or not, he was charming—but not in an obvious sort of way. When he started to walk away, I impulsively called out to him.
“Wait! I don’t know your name!”
He glanced over his shoulder and afforded me another sexy, croo
ked smile.
“It’s Ethan. Ethan Walker. Maybe I’ll see you around, Gianna.”
Then… he left.
As soon as the tavern door closed behind him, Natalia pounced.
“Gia, oh my God! That guy was fucking gorgeous! And he’s clearly into you!”
“Nat!” Teddy hissed. “Keep your voice down. There are still customers here.”
“Sorry,” she whispered and grabbed my arm. “Gianna Valentini! For crying out loud! He’s a hot cop! You need to go after him. You’d be crazy if you didn’t.”
“Go after him? And say what?” I asked, the flush I felt a few moments before deepening.
“I don’t know. Ask him out for coffee or something!”
I stared at her, then looked back at the front door. He was probably long gone by now.
But if he wasn’t…
I hadn’t dated in over four years. College wasn’t the only thing I missed out on when my mother got sick—dating was another. Her illness didn’t allow me any time. As a result, I was probably the most inexperienced twenty-four-year-old on the planet. I had no idea how to ask a guy out. Well, maybe I did, but I was incredibly rusty.
Natalia was persistent, shoving me in the direction of the door with repeated statements about how this would be good for me. Perhaps she was right and I should go after him. I needed to start moving forward with my life. Life is about the living after all. Finally, I turned my head toward Natalia and grinned.
“Wish me luck!”
“Luck!” I heard her say as I hurried to catch up with him.
I pushed open the front door of the tavern and looked around. A few cars whizzed by, breaking through the silent night air. Other than that, all was quiet. He was nowhere to be found. My shoulders slumped, awash with disappointment at missing my chance at a possible real date in years.
I huffed out a frustrated breath. I was being ridiculous. For all I knew, the guy was married. Maybe that was why he turned down the drink I’d offered. I never once thought to check his hand for a ring. If he was interested in me like Natalia thought, surely he would have stuck around to talk. As I was about to turn around to go back inside, I spotted a familiar form climbing into a late-model BMW parked down the street.
Marrying the Mobster: American Gangsters 1 (Leave Me Breathless) Page 29
