Filthy: A Mafia Romance

“She’s had a rough day, boss,” Louis said before I had a chance to utter a word. I glanced at him in surprise. His expression hadn’t changed and neither had his tone, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just admonished Ethan for my sake.

Or gotten as close to admonishing as Louis ever got.

It seemed to work. Ethan’s cocky expression shifted slightly to one that was more businesslike. “What happened?”

I swallowed and took a deep breath, then recounted the events of the night. By the end of my story, I felt exhausted all over again and sat heavily in the vinyl covered seat in front of his desk. “He knew I was working with you.” It seemed weird to call our arrangement a working partnership, but it was the best I could do.

Ethan had been silent the entire time as I told my story. Now he sat back in his chair, leaning as he considered all I’d said. He looked at me, appraising as though he’d never taken the time to do so before. Which was an outright lie. He’d stared at my body until I thought he’d burn holes right into it. But this look was different. It was almost…impressed?

“What?” I finally asked, when he hadn’t said anything for a while.

“I think maybe I’ve underestimated you, Diana,” he said, his tone softer than usual. “I want you to know I appreciate that you held your ground. A lesser woman wouldn’t have.”

Something akin to pride welled in my chest, chasing out some of the fear that lingered there. “It’s my shop. I won’t be bullied in my own shop.” I raised a brow at him, hinting at our first encounter.

He laughed. “No, I guess not.” Sitting forward in his chair again, he said, “Still. I appreciate toughness, regardless of where it comes from.”

I shifted in my seat, a little uncomfortable at the compliment, but also a little pleased. “Thank you.”

He acknowledged my gratitude, then moved on. “Did he give you a name?”

I shook my head. “No. He just said to tell you he was asking for you.”

Ethan’s jaw clenched. It was obvious by the tension in his shoulders and the hard line of his jaw that he was pissed. “You think it’s Tommy?” This was directed at Louis.

I glanced back at the burly guard. He shrugged. “Probably. Tommy’s been getting brave lately.”

Ethan slammed his fist down on the table hard, making me jump as I jerked around to face him again. But his anger wasn’t directed at me, for which I was eternally grateful. “Fucking Tommy.”

I swallowed. Keep your mouth shut and your nose clean, I told myself silently. But even as my thoughts warned me off, my mouth didn’t seem to get the memo. “Who’s Tommy?”

Ethan sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “A rival. He’s been trying to muscle in on my territory for a while now and it’s been a real thorn in my side. Last year, he was little more than a small time peddler. Now he’s got balls because he’s got followers.”

I frowned. The whole drug circuit thing, the territory and rivalries and all of that wasn’t something I was well versed in, but I could guess at a few things. It was business, regardless of what the product was. Ethan sold to a certain area. This guy was obviously trying to do the same business in that same area, thus cutting into Ethan’s profit.

At least, that was my best guess at the situation.

Ethan stood and began to pace behind his desk. He was clearly irritated, his feet carrying him in four strides across the length of the room before he swiveled and came right back. He did this several times, seeming to get angrier with each pass. I wasn’t thrilled with being in the same room as him when he was pissed like this, but I was grateful it was, at least, directed at someone other than me. That went miles towards making my day better.

The room was silent while he paced until finally I couldn’t take it.

“What are you going to do?” I asked hesitantly. I was still in that hazy gray area where we weren’t technically partners, but we sort of were, too. He was paying for repairs. I was watching over his shipments. The sex aside, we were in a sort of working arrangement, and maybe that entitled me to asking a few questions.

He stopped midstride, then turned to face me. “I don’t know how the hell he figured it out,” he told me, shaking his head. “I’ve been so careful with The Cut. Everything goes through someone else. My guys handle the deliveries. An out of town vendor forges the paperwork. There’s no connection to me.”

I decided to not point out that Louis was a pretty noticeable guy and anyone who knew Ethan probably at least knew of Louis. Instead, I remained silent and waited for Ethan to work things out in his head.