Home > Machiavellian (Gangsters of New York, #1)(42)

Machiavellian (Gangsters of New York, #1)(42)
Author: Bella Di Corte

Before Jocelyn died, she tried to cram years into months. One night, when her mind seemed to be sharper than usual, she told me, “There is nothing lonelier than waking up to someone you’ve given your all to, only to realize they only gave half in the night. It’ll happen, and it’ll hurt, but you’ll survive.”

Could I survive this arrangement if that were to happen between us?

I could live without love, the kind that people sacrifice their lives and souls for in romance novels and movies, and I guessed in real life sometimes, too, but could I live with not feeling…something mutual from him?

The answer didn’t matter, only my response to it. My loyalty to him ran high, as high as heaven. He had secured that long ago, when I was five.

I’d live with this arrangement, but I’d merely survive the sex.

He looked me in the eye, and then he leaned in and kissed my lips. “Get dressed.”

He took a step back and the towel made a teepee in front of him. His size didn’t seem… normal. The towel and how hard he was left little to the imagination. And I imagined a snake. A humongous python. It was one thing to suspect, but another to see the outline of it so close. It was in striking distance.

How was that going to fit in my oonie?

“It’ll fit,” he said, reading my thoughts. “Your body was made for mine.”

I nodded, looking up at his eyes. My nails tapped against the counter. What he called agitarsi in Italian. Fidgeting. I stopped because he didn’t like it when I did it. He said there was no reason for me to be nervous. Ever. But if he’d seen what I just did for the first time? He’d be nervous, too.

“Where are we going?” My voice sounded raw, as if I’d been screaming. Every part of me felt drained, but in the best damn way. In some primal way, I liked that he had left a mark on me, something deeper than skin. He had touched muscle and bone.

“To Macchiavello’s for dinner.” He looked me over, naked except for my lace bra, sitting on the marble counter. “Nothing I put in my mouth tonight will compare to what I just had, though.” He raked his teeth over his bottom lip. “Vieni.” He held out his hand. “Time to get dressed.”

 

 

When we walked into the master suite, Capo sighed and said, “Tell me what you’re so nervous about.”

Besides the fact that I just saw a mighty python? I was going to say, but I didn’t. The ice that followed him around sometimes was thick. I chose to be honest about something else.

“The, uh, guy that…well, I don’t know what he does. He runs out to meet you when you arrive at the restaurant. He was, kinda, mean to me.” This would be our first time eating at his restaurant. The big-mouthed guy, Bruno, who told me that he’d squish me like a bug, was hard to forget. He reminded me of Zamboni. And the same feelings of shame went straight to my soul like acid.

Capo stopped short, and I almost ran into his back. He let my hand go and turned to me. I almost took a step back but didn’t. His intensity could be threatening sometimes, but one good thing about girl’s night—I learned it wasn’t just Capo. All of the men in that circle seemed to be similar in that way.

Stand your ground, Scarlett had told me. You’re just as powerful as he is.

Her advice ran through my head, but I kept seeing a deer running from a wolf. I glanced down at his tattoo and then back to his face, thankful that he called me Butterfly, not something that was prey.

“What do you mean?” His voice was stern. “Kind of mean. It’s either, yes, he was mean to me, Capo, or, no, he wasn’t mean to me, Capo. There is no in between, Mariposa. Use all of your words with me.”

Great. He was throwing my words back at me from the night at Harrison’s.

I held my hands in front of me, holding them out, popping my knuckles. “It’s not that simple. Maybe I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to. I’m not sure what you hired him for. If it was to run strays away from your window so they don’t scare customers, then, no, he wasn’t mean. He was just doing his job, showing sharp teeth and big claws. If he’s not supposed to make poor people feel ashamed for not being able to afford a steak at your high-priced restaurant, then, yeah, he was most definitely mean to me. Past mean. An asshole.”

He studied my face for a moment. “Why did you come to Macchiavello’s? Our restaurant. Did you remember something?”

He made sure to say “our” in a powerful way so that I’d accept his business as mine. It was hard when, half of the time, this all still felt like a dream.

I shook my head. “No. I used to pass by sometimes when I was going to Home Run. You can see people eating from outside. It smelled really good. I was hungry.” I shrugged. “ No one ever came out with leftovers, so I figured the steak must be worth a kidney.”

He chin-flicked, copying what I’d done outside of his restaurant when Bruno had given me a hard time. “It makes sense now. Why you said what you did.”

“After I was done being ashamed, I got angry. Your guy pissed me off.”

“You kept coming back.”

“I’m not sure why. You made me…curious.” I bit my lip but stopped when he narrowed his eyes. “Did you remember me then?”

“You looked familiar, but no, not fully. You’ve grown up.”

“Some days.” I smiled, but it was weak. “It was hell getting to the days when I am.”

“Mariposa.” He touched my chin and then kissed my lips softly. Then he took my hand again and led me to the humongous closet.

It took only a few minutes for him to find what he was looking for on his side. Even though everything was organized for me, dress clothes from casual, winter, spring, summer, and fall, it took time for me to find things.

I was still rummaging around, trying to find the right outfit, when he told me to meet him in his office when I was done. He wore a black suit with a white shirt underneath and a black tie. He reminded me of a gangster from the ’20s. All of his suits were dark, either black or navy blue. For some reason, the view of him reminded me of the tattoo on his arm—all darkness except for those electric blue eyes.

Some men had it so easy. Ten minutes and…done.

I sighed, pushing around the many hangers until I came to an embellished black chiffon dress. The fringe on it reminded me of cascading water at night, the edges tipped with silver, like moonlight was touching them. It had an ombre effect. Holding the dress up to my body, I saw that it landed right above my knees. It was classy and sexy at the same time.

It took me a while to do my makeup and hair. Sawyer’s team had taught me how to do both. I kept my eyes simple but used blood red on my lips. I curled my hair, but I didn’t do full curls. Wavy. After, I slathered myself in the cream Capo loved so much and sprayed the perfume. Then I got dressed.

Three white-gold bangle bracelets, encrusted with diamonds and sapphires, and a pair of matching earrings came close to completing the outfit.

“Fucka me,” I breathed. I hoped the jewels in the bracelet weren’t real. I had enough to worry about with the ring on my left finger. Maybe they’d just chop my wrist off and be done with it. They might even go after my ears if they noticed the earrings.

Shaking off the shock, this was my life, I found a pair of heels that were high and black and made pretty patterns against my feet.

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