“You’re beautiful,” he said. “You know that? It’s a shame to waste you on that fucking man-child down there.”
I forced a smile and shrugged. “That’s the way life is sometimes.”
He nodded, but didn’t return the smile. He offered me his arm, which I accepted, and we walked back through the empty lounge. He unlocked the door and we went down together, down the elevator, back through the halls, and paused outside of the door that led into the ballroom.
“I never did ask,” I said before I pushed it open. “What do you do for a living again?”
“I work for the Valentino family,” he said, and took a small, off-white business card from his pocket. It said, Giancarlo Rossini, The Fixer, plus his cell number.
“The Fixer?” I asked, smiling a little. “That’s a pretty intense title.”
“Call me if you ever decide to escape your little farce of a marriage,” he said, standing close. I got another whiff of his scent and shivered, remembering the way I nearly screamed as I came on his thick, long cock.
“Maybe one day,” I said, and shoved the door open. I walked away as fast as I could, tearing myself from that man, that stranger, that hulking, incredible beast.
I walked as fast as I could toward my life, resigned to my future now, my one last bit of rebellion behind me, over and done with. I’d marry Stuart and find a way to temper his worst impulses. I’d have his children and raise them and become a good lady with good manners and breeding and I’d forget all about that dark, delicious man that fucked me in an empty room at the top of an expensive hotel, that man with the strange job title and the pretty eyes. I’d live my life and maybe think about him from time to time, maybe touch the business card to remind myself that it happened, that for once I let myself lose control, at least a little bit, that I actually felt something real.
I walked toward where my family stood speaking with Stuart’s parents and didn’t look back.
2
Gian
The Ordered Lady was crowded for a Tuesday night. I sat with my back to the wall in a shadowed corner booth. Stefano sipped a gin and tonic and kept looking over his shoulder. He hated when I made him sit facing away from the door, but the poor bastard was my second-in-command, and had to listen to the boss. He was a tall guy, messy brown hair, light blue eyes, real smart and fearless. He’d go far in the family, as soon as he ditched me and got serious.
“You’re quiet tonight,” I said and took a long drink from my whiskey. “Something going down?”
He grunted in response. “The usual shit,” he said. “Healys been making some noise. Word is, they want to press into our territory.”
I nodded and looked at my hands. I knew about that already. The Don warned me that Colm Healy thought I might’ve overstretched myself across South Philly, and that he’d try to take some corners away if I weren’t careful.
“I’m making plans,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
Stefano laughed. “You’re always making plans,” he said.
“Maybe you should try it. I bet you could actually get shit done if you thought for ten seconds.”
“Ah, come on,” he said, shaking his head. “You know me. I’d rather fight than think.”
“And that’s why you’re always getting your ass kicked,” I said.
He laughed because it wasn’t true. Stefano was one of the best fighters in the mafia and wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty, second only to me.
“Seriously though,” he said, leaning with one arm over the back of the booth. “What are we gonna do about them Healys?”
“I’m doubling guards on shipments,” I said. “Keeping street soldiers in pairs. We’ll be fine. If Colm wants to come into my territory, let him.”
“Sometimes I wonder about your sanity,” Stefano said.
I only grinned at him and drank my whiskey.
The war with the Healy family was a slow burn. It looked like things were about to get really hot when one of their top guys got murdered and some infighting caused things to cool off for a while. But the power vacuum was filled, and now the Healys were making noise again.
I welcomed it. The Don wasn’t so sure or happy about how things were going, but I knew my guys. They were getting antsy to push back against some real muscle instead of spending all day selling drugs and sitting around getting rich and happy. Sometimes, the goons had to blow off some steam, and I figured a little street war was the perfect thing.
Of course, peace was better for business. I wasn’t that stupid, and I wasn’t inviting any of this shit, but if the Healys came for me, I’d do what I had to do.