“We’d best be quick about this.” He picked up the telephone on the desk.
To my dismay, he spoke in Italian when the call was put through. I caught only a few words—ragazza, padre, parlare. When Vince was alive, he’d tried to teach me a few things, but I hadn’t paid close attention, a fact I now regretted.
“Tiny?” Enzo held the phone out to me.
My stomach tightened as I took the earpiece from him. I laid my purse on the desk and picked up the candlestick base. “Hello?”
“Tiny. Is that you?” It was Daddy’s voice. I was sure of it, although it was weak and raw.
“Yes, it’s me.” Willing myself not to dissolve into tears, I asked, “Are you all right?”
Silence. “Yes. I’m sorry, Tiny—”
“I’m taking care of everything, Daddy. I—”
“Enough!” barked a new voice in my ear.
“No! Put him back on,” I begged. I looked helplessly at Enzo, who took the phone and finished up the call in Italian.
“Satisfied?” He set the phone down and raised his eyebrows at me.
“I guess.” At least I knew Daddy was still alive, and conscious enough to speak on the phone. My job now was to get the money. But even if I sold the twelve cases I’d pick up tomorrow night, I’d need to sell seventeen more to come up with five grand by Tuesday. It couldn’t be done—I needed more time. But what leverage did I have to bargain with? I looked at Enzo, my mind and heart racing.
No. You can’t.
“We should go. I promised to return you within twenty minutes.” Enzo gave me that slow smile, which made my belly go hollow. “And I do rather value those body parts your friend threatened.”
“Right.” I licked my lips as I walked to the door, and Enzo waited until I reached it before turning off the lamp. His silhouette came closer in the darkness, and my insides tightened.
Oh yes, I can.
“If you’ll move, I’ll unlock the door,” he said.
Fear and some other untamable feeling buzzed through me. “No.”
“No?”
“We still have five minutes.” I rushed forward and threw my arms around his neck, crushing my lips to his. For a moment he was stunned; I heard his keys hit the floor. Then strong arms locked around my back, and his mouth opened wide over mine, his tongue lashing inside with deep, demanding strokes. My body ignited in a way I hadn’t anticipated. Keep your senses. This is just a ploy. You’re angry with him. Our mouths battled each other with such ferocity I couldn’t breathe, and I imagined the fire between us consuming all the oxygen in the room. He tasted like temptation—whisky and smoke.
Pressing my forearms against his shoulders, I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his waist. Enzo pushed my back up against the door, his hands slipping beneath my dress to the undersides of my legs, his fingers gripping the bare skin above my stockings. Gasping, I squeezed his torso between my thighs as his mouth traveled across my face and down my neck. His fingers edged inside the lace of my step-in, teasing the soft pink folds at my center while his tongue lingered in the hollow at the base of my throat. Something deep and powerful surged within me. Threading my fingers through his dark hair, I pulled his head back and we stared hard at each other before our mouths slammed together once more. He shifted my weight under one arm and found the side fasteners of my dress with the other.
Somehow, he undid seven hooks and eyes with one hand.
His fingers slipped inside my dress and pressed against the bare skin on my lower back. Then he swung me away from the door and moved to the desk, setting me on its edge with my dress bunched up around my hips. Standing between my knees, he ran his hands up my pale white thighs, which glowed in the dark above my stockings. My chest heaved with ragged breaths as he shrugged off his coat and loosened his tie. My hands itched to touch him, to travel under starched cotton and over hot skin, to reach low and feel exactly how he wanted me. To know for certain what he could to do to me, if I let him. For a moment, I forgot every circumstance that brought me here and nearly reached for the buttons on his trousers.
But just for a moment.
“Enzo,” I whispered instead, gripping the edge of the desk. “We can’t.”
He put his hands on my buttocks and pulled me flush against him. “You said we had five minutes.” He pressed the hard length of his cock between my legs.
Oh God, that feels so good. I struggled for control. “It’s been five minutes. And neither of us wants to get caught here.”
He paused. “You’re right. Besides, what I’d like to do to you takes more than five minutes.”
My heart thumped wildly as he backed off. I brought my knees together and tried to gather my wits. Ask him. Now. I took a deep breath. “I need more time too.”
“Oh?” He sounded amused as he picked up his coat and slipped it back on, as if he thought I’d been referring to sex. Dropping to my feet, I fastened my dress with trembling fingers.