Filthy: A Mafia Romance

He laughed, low and deep. One of those rumbling laughs that settles somewhere in your chest, behind your ribs, and sends those good ripples through your body. Like he was at some comedy club and I was the best damn comedian he’d seen in ages.

Which was highly doubtful. I wasn’t exactly known for my comedic genius.

“What’s so funny?” I couldn’t help but ask, though I was sure he was just laughing to get on my nerves. Everything about this man got on my nerves. All I wanted was for him to get the hell out of my shop and never come back.

But I knew better than to tell him that. It was one thing to be cold towards him. But downright rude? Disrespectful? That was like asking for trouble and with my head just barely above water, I couldn’t afford that kind of trouble.

When he got himself under control again, even wiping at his eyes in an exaggerated fashion, he smiled broadly at me. “I like you. You’re a funny one.”

I didn’t say anything in response to that, just waited for him to give me an answer.

After a moment, the businessman returned and he said to me, “I was actually hoping to see if you had some extra space in the back. Maybe a storage room? You must have some for the shop, of course, but maybe some food storage for the store?”

I frowned a little, trying to figure out his angle. Of course I had storage. The Cut needed chemicals, hair products, and some miscellaneous items like clips, combs, gloves, and aprons. Dry goods, so to speak. But the convenience store had space for some of the food stuffs we sold. There was even a decent-sized cooler in the back behind the alcohol section, though it wouldn’t compete with any major chain.

What I couldn’t figure out is why Ethan Chambers would care.

“I have storage,” I answered stiffly. “It’s nominal, but it works for my purposes.”

He nodded once, his expression considering. “Do you use all of it?”

“Not usually, no.”

His smile was sly as he moved from the chair where he’d been lingering to come and stand closer to me. My first instinct was to step back and put some distance between us, but I forced myself to remain still. I’d hold my ground if only because I wouldn’t let him intimidate me like this.

“I have a little proposition for you, then,” he said. “Businessman to businesswoman. I’d like to rent your extra storage space which would in no way interfere with your business here.” He waved a large hand around to indicate my shop, not unlike I’d mockingly done earlier. “I’ll store some extra stock here—from the diner—until I need it. At which point I’ll stop by and pick it up. You won’t even know it’s there.”

Already, I knew I didn’t like this. I opened my mouth to tell him that I wasn’t interested when he added quickly, “I’ll pay you a good price. Better than anyone else would.”

That made me pause.

Extra money? How could a single mother with a barely-above-water business ignore an outright promise of more income?

I couldn’t. But still I hesitated. It wasn’t that it sounded wrong, necessarily. Based on what he’d just suggested, I was only providing extra space for his overflow stock. He’d pay me, like any renter might, and I wouldn’t have to have anything to do with it. No worries about moving shipments, checking in freight, or otherwise dealing with expiration dates, food quality, or transportation.

And, yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was wrong. There was something that just didn’t sit right with me. Maybe it was the fact that I knew Ethan wasn’t the easy-going, friendly businessman he sold himself as.

Or maybe it was just that I wasn’t an idiot. Who would come to me to store extra food from his diner? After all, he owned half the businesses in town. There were plenty of other places he could store his stuff. For free.

That was what made me nervous.

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I thought it over. Ethan had the money to make good on his promise of a decent price for the space.

I could really use the money.

“And what exactly would you be storing here?”

He shrugged casually. “Oh, just some extra stock that I don’t have room for at the diner.”

Frowning, I clarified, “Food?”

He nodded. “Consumables, yes.”

I went over it in my head once more. It was just food. Extra food from the diner. I would just be storing it until he needed it so that he could run a more successful business. Which meant he’d make good on his promise to pay me. Which meant I could make some extra money.

I tried to talk myself into it, but I wasn’t having an easy time of it. Finally, I just told him simply, “I want to think it over before I commit to anything.”