Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles 1)

“Because I am their Enforcer.”

“Enforcer,” I said uncertainly. I’d never heard that term before. “So you’re enforcing their laws like some kind of mob police.”

He chuckled. “Something like that,” he said darkly. My gut pulled tight at the dark undercurrent in his voice.

I waited for him to elaborate but he seemed content to leave me ignorant. I decided to ask Cheryl about it later. If I had a mobile, or if my Dad had a working computer, I’d have googled the term but as it was I needed to rely on old fashioned channels to get information. Fabiano was obviously unwilling to reveal more about what he was doing.

“I thought you’d be eager to see tonight’s fight. I hear it’s a big one.”

Fabiano shrugged. “It is, but I have watched thousands of fights in my life, have fought hundreds. I don’t care if I miss one.” His eyes settled on me. “And I wanted you for myself.”

Was he embarrassed of being seen with me? The poor little waitress and he, the big deal mobster.

I rubbed my arms, the night’s cold catching up with me. Fabiano pressed up behind me and began stroking my arms through the thin fabric of my dress. Always close, always touching. His spicy aftershave engulfed me like his arms did. “What do you want from me?” I whispered.

“Everything.”

Everything.

That word still made my breathing hitch as I lay awake that night after our date. There was no way I could fall asleep.

I don’t like to share.

Everything.

I’d been curious about Fabiano. I was attracted to him. But curiosity killed the cat. And I feared that being close to Fabiano might put an end to all the plans I’d so carefully laid ahead. I wanted to see him again. I wanted to kiss him again, but I knew it wasn’t a good idea. I wasn’t sure what to do.

Just let it happen.

Being with him made me feel good. Very few things in my life did. Why not allow myself that small sin? Because that’s what he was: sin.

The next day, I made sure to be at work early to have time for a conversation with Cheryl. The other waitress of unknown age was there as well. Mel – was her name. I had to wait until she was finally off cleaning the changing rooms before I could confront Cheryl. A few of our regular customers were already sitting at their favorite table, but they could wait a couple of minutes. Officially the bar wasn’t even open yet. It wasn’t like they came here for the extraordinary service anyway.

“You had the evening off,” was the first thing out of Cheryl’s mouth when Mel had disappeared through the back door. “On the day of a big fight.”

“I had a date with Fabiano.”

She shook her head, mouth pinching. “God, Chick. Don’t you know what’s good for you?”

“What’s an Enforcer?”

She sighed. She nodded toward the table with the men. “See Eddie over there?”

I nodded.

“His arm is in a cast because of your Fabiano. First warning as they call it.”

My eyes grew wide. Fabiano was beating people up? “First warning,” I said carefully. “What’s the second and third warning?”

She smiled sympathetically. “That depends how much money you owe and in what kind of mood Falcone and Fabiano are. Smashed knee cap? Cut off finger? Having the living daylights beaten out of you.” She paused for effect, gauging my reaction. “Third warning will make you wish for death.”

“And if people still don’t pay?” Sometimes people wouldn’t be able to pay. It could happen. I had lost count of the times my mother had been broke. Even a beating wouldn’t have changed that. And even if she’d come to money, she would probably have used it for crystal.

Cheryl ran a finger over her throat.

I looked down at my hands, which were clutching the bar counter. I would have been lying if I’d said I couldn’t imagine Fabiano being capable of something like that. I’d seen him fight, had seen the darkness in his eyes.

“Now you have second thoughts,” she said. “Perhaps you get lucky and he’ll lose interest in you soon. It’s not like these men would ever consider having a serious relationship with someone like us.”

I stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“They are Italian mobsters. They like to play with normal women like us but they’ll marry Italian virgins from noble upbringing. It’s always been like that. I don’t think a new Capo will change that.”

“This is the twenty-first century and we’re not in Italy.”

“Might as well be because their traditions and rules are from there.”

Everything.

In my silly mind I’d construed the word to mean body and mind, but now I wondered if Fabiano was on the lookout for a few nights before he’d move on to the next woman. This was all too much baggage for me. Him, being an Enforcer, and the mafia with their old-fashioned rules. My life had always been a mess and was still messed up enough without him adding fuel to the fire. Even if my body ached for his touch, and even if some stupid part of me wanted to get to know him, the real him, I had to stay away from him. Perhaps I was a fixer, but I had to fix my own life before I could consider fixing someone else.