“I’m a scary person, I guess.”
“Bullshit. There’s got to be more to it than that. How could you beat him up and not get arrested?”
“Let’s just say we’ve got the same boss from way back.”
“Don’t keep talking in riddles.”
“We used to work for the same firm a long time ago.”
“What firm?”
“You sure you want to know?”
“Let me put it this way. You tell me now or our deal is off. Which firm did you both work for?”
“Last chance to not know.”
“Tell me!”
“The Chicago mafia. The Felici famiglia to be precise. Don Felici is my boss and Walter’s.”
I got a feeling it was going to be bad but this is far worse than I feared. “You’re in the mafia?”
“I am.”
“You’re a criminal.”
“As you say, I’m a criminal.”
“How bad a criminal?”
“The worst kind.”
“Get out.” I point at the door.
“This is what I warned you. Some things are better kept as secrets. You shouldn’t have asked if you didn’t want to know.”
“I told you to get out.”
He leans close to me, snaking a hand around my lower back, drawing me close to him. “I don’t think you want me to. I think you want me to kiss you again, right here, right now.”
“I said, get out.”
“Tell me one more time and I’m a ghost, Chloe. You’ll never see me again. I’ll give you a final chance to make up your mind about what you want. Go ahead, say it. Tell me to go. Do it.”
Before I even get a chance to speak, his lips are pressed to mine. His body is pushing me against the wall behind me. I’m trapped in his grip with nowhere to go. His tongue plunges into my mouth and his hand is moving down from my back to my ass, squeezing it tightly as he possesses my mouth for the second time today.
His fingers move back up, sliding to my front, reaching over my chest, my nipples pebbling from the heat of his touch. His hand keeps going until he’s holding my face in both his hands again, embracing me so hard I see stars.
“What are you doing?” I manage to ask when he finally pulls away from me.
“Taking what’s mine for the next twenty-four hours,” he replies, leaning toward me. He’s about to kiss me again when someone shouts his name on the other side of the door. It’s a man’s voice. One I recognize but I’m not sure where from. “Enzo Lauria,” the voice shouts. “Your car’s in the lot. I know you’re hiding in here somewhere. Come on out before things get ugly.”
Enzo looks at me, the lust in his face gone, replaced by a robot’s neutrality. “Stay here,” he says in a cold voice, so different from how he just spoke to me. “Don’t move.”
Before I can reply, he pushes open the door and disappears. A moment later, while I’m still deciding whether to obey him or not, the screaming starts.
16