It felt so different to be here alone with him with no one else to see us and all of his attention focused solely on me.
With a hard shiver, I remembered myself and forced myself to meet his eyes once more. I was here for a reason and I had to remember that, no matter what my body decided to do.
“I must say, your visit is quite unexpected,” he added, and I stared down at my hands for a second before I was brave enough to look at him again. He’d cocked his head to the side and was studying me more intensely now.
“I need your help,” I finally managed to breathe. With every word, I felt a little stronger. By the time I finished speaking, my voice wasn’t shaking anymore.
He quirked an eyebrow upward.
“Why me?” he asked. There was a twinge of annoyance in his voice. I hadn’t expected that, and I floundered a little bit to answer him.
“I’ve heard that sometimes you solve problems for people, and I was hoping that you might help me solve mine,” I ventured.
“I see. There are lawyers for things like that, Miss Esposito,” he offered instead. “I can give you the name of mine and you can go on your way.” He moved to get up off the couch and I rushed to answer him.
“That’s not the kind of help I need,” I replied hurriedly, deciding that bluntness was likely the best course of action.
“Is that so?” he mused. I’d piqued his interest at least somewhat from what I could tell.
“Please. Call me Keri,” I said softly as I adjusted my jacket so it exposed just enough of my cleavage. His eyes dragged down to my breasts and then back at my face again. If it enticed him, he said nothing.
“As you wish, Keri,” he replied rather dispassionately.
“May I call you Jaxon?” I asked. He nodded in response and I ventured a cautious smile in return. My fingers played with the ends of my hair and I chewed at my lower lip. My attempts at seduction were mostly ignored, but I still continued anyway. At this point it really couldn’t hurt, right?
“What kind of help are you looking for?” he pressed, still too serious for my liking.
“Why don’t I tell you about my problem over a drink?” I coaxed, trying to flirt with him just a bit more because I thought maybe he might like it. Maybe that would loosen him up a bit and calm my nerves a little in the process.
He stood and walked over to a small bar I hadn’t noticed in the corner. He didn’t ask what I wanted. He just uncorked a bottle of red wine for me, poured a rather healthy portion, and handed it to me. After that, he returned to his seat.
“Are you going to have one too?” I asked anxiously.
“No,” he answered rather bluntly.
“Oh.” I chewed my lip again, feeling more anxious than ever.
“Now, tell me why you need my help. I’m a busy man and I have things to do,” he directed. His hands flexed and my mouth went just a little dry as I imagined what they could do to me once more. I took a small sip of the wine he’d given me and put it aside, hoping it covered up my nervous curiosity as he studied me. I tried not to squirm under his scrutiny. I crossed my legs, but I couldn’t stop the anxious shaking of my right foot as I tried to figure out where to begin.
“Do you know my father?” I asked him.
“I’ve heard of him,” he answered evasively.
“Do you know how he typically conducts business?” I pressed further.
“Some of it,” he replied in such a way that I had trouble reading him, so I just decided to go for it and give him my father’s full story.
“He’s a mobster. A mafia kingpin. He breaks the law, traffics drugs, launders money, and sometimes trades in people and even kills them to get what he wants,” I said plainly this time. It wouldn’t help me to skirt around the issue. I had to be blunt.
“I’m aware of the questionable legality of much of what Richard Esposito dabbles in,” he responded. I sighed with the slightest hint of frustration. He didn’t seem any more interested in helping me than he had been before. Maybe I needed to make this more personal. Would it help if he knew more about me?
“When I was six years old, he decided to barter with me. He signed a contract with the Battista family. Had it formerly drawn up with a team of lawyers to arrange my marriage to the boss’ son, Anthony. The wedding was to take place six months after my eighteenth birthday,” I began.
“And has it?” he asked.
“No,” I replied.
“When is it?” he pressed. Still, he didn’t seem particularly interested so I decided to push it.