“I think you’re jealous. And this proves it.”
He laughed, but it was dark and scary. “Not quite. You may think your pussy is made of gold, and every man in this city wants you, but I’m not one of them.”
Dante pushed the button on the wall, and we got inside the elevator. He hit the number for the third floor, and the doors closed.
“I know everything that goes on with this family.” He caged me against the wall, putting his hands above my head. “You are fucking with my brothers, toying with their heads. I don’t like whores, and I don’t like liars.”
“Well, I’m neither.”
He stepped back, and I could finally breathe without him invading my personal space. “Prove it.”
“How?”
“You’re a smart girl.” Dante turned his back to me as the doors opened. “Figure it out.”
He strolled down the corridor without looking over his shoulder to see if I followed. The needy, pathetic part of myself wanted to make him happy. I hated when people were mad at me.
My therapist called me a people pleaser and said it stemmed from my constant need for attention and validation from my parents as a child. Even my choice of major was to make my dad happy. But nothing ever seemed to be good enough. And I could tell it would be the same with Dante and his unbelievably high expectations.
Dante removed a keycard from his pocket and swiped it across the electronic scanner on the wall. Then, he pushed open the door, holding it for me to step inside. I glared at him as I entered the office space.
My dad sat behind the desk in his office, a phone raised to his ear, nodding. Dante clutched my wrist and steered me to the last door on the right.
The room was mostly empty, with white walls, no decorations, and a desk with built-in bookshelves. And a metal door on the wall the size of a mail slot.
“This is your office.” Dante pointed at the slot on the wall. “Each week, you'll drop the cash into that chute when you get back from The Monella Club and Lucky’s.”
“Where does it go?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He leaned back against the desk, trying to intimidate me with his evil glare. “Someone will be there to collect and recirculate it.”
“What is my actual job? Because anyone can drop money into a chute.”
“You have a gift with numbers.” He closed the distance between us. “Show me why you’re worth keeping around.”
“What do you need me to do?”
He held my gaze, expressionless. “Your father will show you the ropes. Don’t ask questions. Just do what you’re told.”
I moved in front of him, breathing hard. “Are you threatening me, Mr. Luciano?”
“You can be a real asset to this family. My dad thinks you’re some mastermind.”
I pressed my lips together to stop them from trembling from his closeness. “How about you?”
Dante cupped the side of my face, his thumb stroking my cheek, but it was rough and not like when Nico did it. “For your sake, I hope he’s right.”
“I won’t disappoint your father.”
Or you.
It felt like my entire childhood all over again, needing validation. I hated how much I wanted to prove myself to the Lucianos.
Dante took a few steps back, and his eyes went to the camera in the room’s corner. He didn’t say a word, but I knew that was his way of telling me he would always watch me. I knew they were tracking my every move.
Then he reached into the desk’s top drawer and removed a manilla folder. He pointed his finger at the chair. “Sit. You need to sign this.”
As I dropped into the chair, Dante slid several pieces of paper in front of me. He handed me a pen from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. “We don’t need an NDA to silence you. We’ll kill you and your family if you ever speak about anything you see, do, or hear.”