“I’m not here to party, obviously. I’m here to see your boss,” I retort assertively.
“Here to see the bossman, huh?” he asks, scrutinizing me from head to toe. I have to force myself not to roll my eyes at his distasteful inspection.
“Yes. Now can you please let me in so I can talk to him? We’re friends,” I add, overly sweet, in the hopes that playing the coy girl card will open the doors behind him.
“Yeah, all of you are bossman’s ‘friends’. Still not letting you through, though. Come back tonight, Blondie. Oh, and FYI, you should get yourself a nice short dress. Maybe then, if you’re lucky, you’ll get to see him. If you come back looking the way you are now, I can tell you straight off that he’s not interested,” the bouncer snickers, apparently not appreciative of my casual ripped jeans, hoodie, and leather jacket ensemble.
I bite my inner cheek instead of stomping on this big oaf’s foot for the insult and his not-so-subtle insinuation. Sure, he’s big and could snap my neck easily enough, but I doubt he’s fast.
On second thought…
“OUCH!” he wails while bending over after I stomp his foot, giving me the perfect distraction, and just enough time to sneak my way in.
I run inside the lavish nightclub and see it’s almost empty, save for a few staff members who are busy filling up the bar and cleaning tables. Everyone is too focused on their task to register my unwarranted presence. I’m almost halfway to the stairs that will lead me to DeLuca’s office, when grubby hands pull my arms behind my back, thwarting my plans. I’m hit with the smell of menthol breath on my neck, as I struggle to break free from the giant’s fierce grip.
“Now, was that nice, hurting me like that? I was trying to be civil, and you stomped me,” he grunts in my ear, his tone half-entertained and half-annoyed.
“Oh please! It barely made a dent on you. I doubt a cement truck could hurt you,” I cry out, shuffling erratically, hoping he’ll give me enough wiggle room to hurt him again.
“You’re a feisty little mouse, aren’t you?” He chuckles.
“Not quite a compliment, coming from you. I bet everyone looks small to you.” I sigh out, frustrated that my efforts to free myself from the brute are completely futile.
“Hmm,” he replies, his eyes crinkling with amusement at the sides.
“I just need to see him. Please,” I plead earnestly, hoping my sincerity reaches his ears.
“Persistent, too, huh?” He huffs out.
“I don’t know how to be anything else.” I shrug, and he lets out a muffled laugh. “Just five minutes. Please.”
When I feel his hands unwrap themselves from their hold on me, I almost sigh out in relief.
“I wasn’t trying to be an asshole to you, Blondie. It’s just, I know the bossman won’t see you,” he informs, eyeing me apologetically. “And I don’t know why you need to see him so bad, but a girl like you shouldn’t even want to be alone with a man like him. Trust me, doll. I’ve seen him chew out meaner people than you for breakfast,” he warns cautiously.
I grab my wrist and take off the bracelet which holds the tiara Giovanni gave me for graduation. It sits right beside Dominic’s wings. Both keepsakes have gotten me through more somber days than I can count. I have never once taken the delicate bracelet off my wrist, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
“Here. Give him this. I promise you he’ll want to see me once you’ve shown him this,” I explain, hoping the trinket will remind the hard man to recollect a time when his heart still held nothing but love.
The brooding man takes the frail, silver bracelet in his calloused hands and gives me a small nod and a thin, worried grin.
“Fine. But you have to promise you won’t follow me down there and that you’ll behave while I’m gone. I still think you should run your pretty little ass out of here, but it’s your funeral. Promise you’ll stay put?” I cross my heart with my finger, and he smirks, amused.
Once he goes off behind the bar and down the stairs, where Gio must be holed up, I allow myself to exhale and try to get my wits back. I’ll need to be steadfast and clearheaded, which will prove difficult when I finally come face to face with the new consigliere of the Outfit. I stay in my place as promised, only letting my eyes wander the area around me.
I know it was a risk coming here, but if Mammà’s intel is good, then Giovanni’s father no longer has any ties to the syndicate, which means his clubs will fall onto Gio’s shoulders to deal with. As much as the big guy insisted I make my visit during normal working hours, I know that would be an even riskier move—too many made men hang out at this club. I got lucky the first time I came with Pietro when I was seventeen, but I won’t tempt fate so easily now.
Seems like a lifetime ago he brought me here. Whatever his intentions were that night, he had always been my friend. He might have deserved my wrath at the end, but he never deserved the grave outcome he was given. That night he had made me feel like a normal for the first time ever. It was also the night Gio had danced with me, making my heart yearn even more for such a beautiful, ordinary existence.
I pray he will be able to help me today. My feeble hopes are that he’s forgiven me for leaving him all those years ago and that he’ll come to my aid this one last time. I’m also praying that he’s still as defiant as ever; since he’ll need to be, where Vincent is concerned. I had no illusions that facing him would be anything less than difficult. I just never assumed I’d see so much hate in his eyes. He has grown up to be a beautiful, cold monster, just like he always aspired to be; like the Outfit demanded him to become. They won their champion while I lost the troubled boy I will never stop loving.
Vincent may kill me if I so much set foot on his property again, but does Giovanni share the same hatred? I hope not. Because as much as seeing Vincent was both gut-wrenchingly painful and depressing, I desperately need to put my eyes on the curly-haired boy I once vowed my heart to.
My ears pick up the sound of the huge bouncer walking back to me, and he finally comes into view with a puzzled look on his face.
“Well, Blondie, I don’t know if I should be happy for you or concerned, but bossman wants a word with you after all.”
I give him a tight nod and stiffen my back to follow him behind the bar to the stairs leading to the basement. The bouncer’s guess on the result of my little unannounced visit is as good as mine, unfortunately. If Gio and Vincent share the same animosity toward me, then in the best case scenario I leave here empty-handed, and the worst… well, the worst is that not even dental records will help identify my body once the Outfit is through with me.
The corridor is long and oddly well lit, with only two closed doors on each wall, but it’s the door marked ‘office’ at the very end of the hall that makes my heart pitter-patter with equal parts wistfulness and trepidation.
“Just knock and go on in, Blondie. I’d say holler if you need any help, but you’re on your own,” he advises, shaking his head in pity.
I understand his concern. No one in their right mind would seek out a made man so foolhardily. There are always repercussions where the Outfit is involved, especially when not adhering to syndicate laws. The stranger next to me is just clueless that I’m already very much aware of what they are. I was groomed to know them by heart. I refuse to let them cripple me now, but for the last decade, I have been haunted by one in particular—death to all traitors of the famiglia and to any who dare break the Omertà code. I’m a dead woman walking on both accounts.