Filthy: A Mafia Romance

“Jesus, he actually said ‘this isn’t over’? Like some mobster with a pinstriped suit and a tommy gun?” Jessie asked incredulously. She shook her head. “He’s something else.”

I couldn’t agree more.

After that conversation, nearly three days ago now, I didn’t so much as hear mention of Ethan Chambers’ name. Nothing about the storage unit or phone calls warning me that this wasn’t over. Nothing. So much nothing that I fell back into my old life without a hitch.

Drop off Cody. Open up the Cut. Talk to a bunch of old ladies about how things were different when they were young ladies. Close up shop. Go home with Cody. Normal.

Except I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d crossed some invisible line into dangerous territory and didn’t know it yet. It’s the same feeling someone might get if they were being watched from a distance. Maybe they couldn’t see who was watching them, but they could sense he was there.

After Cody was tucked into bed that night, I dallied around the apartment. I did dishes and laundry and pre-packed Cody’s lunch for the next day. It was all little stuff that could have waited until the next day, but tonight I knew I was going to have trouble sleeping.

I should have been relieved that the whole brief encounter with Ethan was over. Instead, I was paranoid. Paranoid that, at any moment, he might show up here and tell me I’d crossed the wrong man. That he’d burst into the door and tell me I’d regret my decision.

“He’s not here. The whole thing’s over. Let it go,” I told myself when I’d finished the last of my chores. There was really nothing left to do but get some sleep. Sighing, I chastised myself again for being so jittery about the whole thing. After checking one more time on Cody, I went to my own bedroom and crawled beneath the covers.

Lying on my back, I stared at the ceiling, picturing Ethan’s sly smile and hearing his smooth, deep voice. The same voice that had made it clear that I was making a big mistake.

But was I?

“No,” I whispered to the ceiling with as much conviction as I could muster. “I’m doing the right thing.”

Then I turned over and closed my eyes. I had to count sheep up into the hundreds, but, after a while, I finally fell asleep.

# # #

I stood in The Cut, even though it was closed. The lights were low and it was clearly dark outside, but for some reason I was there. Waiting, maybe? I had a late night appointment that I couldn’t miss. I ran my hand along the top of one of the nicer chairs I’d invested in. It had killed me to spend that kind of money on them, even when I knew I could use them as a tax write off.

The leather was supple beneath my delicate fingers, cool and sleek. I spun the chair around, letting my hands go over the armrest. It wasn’t until I heard a deep, silky voice that I paused my caress of the chair.

“Diana, didn’t I tell you this wasn’t over?”

I swallowed thickly, but I wasn’t scared or worried to hear Ethan’s baritone. He was who I was waiting for. My appointment. “Are you going to let me cut your hair?” I asked, my voice coming out slowly, as though trying to move through layers of heavy cotton. My fingers itched to run through his dark locks, but I forced them to remain still.

He laughed, thick and deep. Suddenly he was standing behind me, so close that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. But he didn’t touch me, not yet. I felt the air shift around us as he leaned forward slightly, his head angling so that his mouth was beside my ear. His breath shifted my blonde hair as he whispered, “No. I’m not going to let you do anything, Diana. Tonight, you’re mine.”

I should have felt something like fear, but instead all I could do was tremble as my body tingled with the promise of what he might do.

For an agonizingly long second, nothing happened. He stood near, but didn’t touch. His breath skated across my skin, but only teased. My eyes couldn’t help but lift towards the mirror across from us and there I saw him. Dark hair, shiny and deliberately disheveled. Eyes burning with passion and dark promises. Mouth curved wickedly.

And finally, he touched me.

His large hands gripped my upper arms and spun me around forcibly. My body reacted by arching towards him, but I wouldn’t get a kiss. Not yet. Instead, he shoved me back, causing me to lose my balance and fall back into the leather chair behind me. I fell into it haphazardly, one leg ending up bent at the knee, pushing up the dress I only wore when I was meeting with one of Cody’s teachers.