“Just. No.” I continue to laugh as I walk down the hall and into my room. It’s set up for me already. One of the boys got in here earlier to unpack everything for me. My open closet door gives me a perfect view of what's hanging up nicely inside. I think it’s even color-coded, which is just too much for my all-black-attire heart to ever think up.
After a second of admiring the view, I close my door behind me and head over to it, searching through the variety I now have. I wonder if I’ll get to keep these. They’re all designer, clearly new, though the tags aren’t on any of them. If I knew any better about fashion, I might be completely floored to see this mini clothing store, but it’s just not my thing. Don’t get me wrong, I like feeling hot, but it doesn’t take much.
I pull out a long sheer black dress. The sleeves are flowing and flared, buttons down the center fixed in darker black velvet fabric, and a spaghetti strap mini-dress underneath.
I know it's the first thing I picked out, but I don’t have any objections to it. It’s perfect. A little out of my comfort zone fashion-wise, but at least it's black. I spot two-inch heels that look a little like slides with a fluffy black strap, so I decide to wear those. I lay the clothes out on my bed and slump to the floor.
This is a big night, the biggest of all the ones to come, because tonight, I get to make the first real impression. If I can get into his headspace, cloud his affections and better judgment with pure lust for me, I might be in. Small steps to gain his trust and whet his appetite for me. That’s it. That’s all I have to do.
Getting him to open up should be easy after that.
I really am talking myself up to this. Making myself believe every word because I know I have no other option. Second-guessing myself is a waste of time, so I must go with my gut.What have I learned about men? What can I guess about him? And how am I going to detect weak points to report?
Easy enough.
There’s a knock on my door as I sit, staring at the bed. It cracks open, though I haven’t responded, and I glance at it to see Patrov, lingering in the doorway with a strange expression on his face.
“What?”
“There’s someone here.”
I slowly blink at him.
“Uhh, yeah. You, me, the rest of my security…”
“No.” He clears his throat, seemingly nervous. “Kias is here for you.”
“Here?”
“Yeah.”
“Right now?”
“Kira--”
“Okay. I just— it’s— you’re not great at communicating. You know that, right?”
He rolls his eyes and opens the door wide.
“Kias.” I breathe as he’s revealed, standing next to Patrov, who looks like he’s a minute away from shitting himself.
“You may leave.” I wave to Patrov, who bends over into this weird half-bow thing and scurries out of sight. I bite my cheek so as not to laugh at him.
“Hi.” He walks up to me, boots planted an inch away from my toes that are digging into the bohemian-style rug on the industrial floors.
“Hi.” I tuck a stray hair behind my ear, and he sits directly in front of me.
“I heard about Paris Fashion Week.” A smile twitches at the corner of his red lips.
“Yeah.” I nod, looking into his crystal blue eyes intently, attempting to remain calm.Why is he even here?
“I wanted to give you some better insight than what you’ve been given so far about the San Giovanni family. Given that you have a date with Romeo San Giovanni this evening.”
I suck in my bottom lip and nod. He seems to like my submissiveness, which is unnerving given the fact that I’m rarely the submissive type. Of course, he would be the exception.
“Well, the San Giovanni’s are--” He clicks his tongue as he searches for the words. “They’re ruthless and will do anything in their power to smother anyone standing in their way. Their consigliere, Vincenzo, called for a New Era a little over a year ago. Apparently, this Era is meant to be one of peace.”
Peace and the mafia don’t really go hand in hand. It’s like peanut butter and toothpaste.