Devil You Hate (The Diavolo Crime Family 1)

“Where are we going?” I ask, focusing on something that isn’t his wide chest against mine. Especially when his proximity inspires both arousal and fear.

He doesn’t answer but leads me out the door and into the hallway. The guards are gone now, no one wanders the hall, and I don’t see a soul until I spot the dark head of the driver in the town car he stuffs me into.

After he settles into place beside me, I shift in the seat to face him. “Really, where are we going? Is the auction tonight? Is this it?” Fear rakes its claws down my insides, igniting a wave of adrenaline.

He levels me with a look. But I can’t just sit here and not try to get out of this. “Please, don’t do this. I’ll do anything. Don’t sell me off. You could keep me instead. It would be equally vengeful for my father just knowing I’m gone.”

This time he stares out the window, slumped into the seat, all arrogance and male ego. “No, we are not going to the auction. We’re going to dinner.”

My mouth falls open, and I snap it shut again, trying to sort through any hint in his words, any tricks. “You’re taking me out to dinner?”

My statement earns another snort from him. “We are going to dinner. I never said I was taking you out to dinner. There’s a difference.”

I settle back into the seat, a little less worried now. Whatever he wants, I’ll do. If being well behaved tonight might keep me off the auction block a little longer, I’ll be a fish with wings, if that’s what he wants me to be.

We drive for about ten minutes. When the car stops, the driver comes around and opens the car door for us. I scan the nondescript alley and realize we’re in a populated area. The casino district maybe, by the lights and sounds.

It’s only confirmed once we get inside, and I hear the faint clank of slot machines and the chatter of people off in the distance. Nicolo leads me into an intimately lit room with a round table in the center. On the white tablecloth, four plates are laid out, and two people sit in the surrounding chairs.

The man I recognize as Nicolo’s friend, or second-in-command. I can’t remember his name at the moment, not with my heart lodged in my throat while trying to figure out Nicolo’s mood, his plan, and exactly what he wants from me in this situation.

Nicolo pulls out an empty chair next to the man. “Sit.”

I take the seat, and he gently pushes me toward the table, unbuttons his jacket again, and throws himself into the last empty chair. I’m scared to look at the other two occupants of the table and keep my gaze on the plate in front of me.

The woman across from me is wearing expensive perfume and from the tickle in my nostrils, way too much of it. I catch glimpses of curly blonde hair and sleek, smooth bare shoulders from my periphery.

“Pet,” Nicolo says.

I glance up and realize he’s talking to me. “Serve the food. Start with the beef, end with the sauce.”

He can’t be serious? I answer the question in my head as soon as it arises. Of course, he’s serious. Why am I still surprised at anything he does?

Taking exception at the word ‘pet’ right now won’t help, so I swallow the little pride I have left and do as I’m told, serving food from a sideboard. “Do you—?”

He cuts me off with his hand and motions for me to fill my own plate as they all watch me move back and forth, without saying a word. That’s the disconcerting part. I’d prefer them ignoring me than monitoring my every twitch.

When I finish serving, I resume my seat. The woman leans over and whispers, “Thank you.” Her voice is deep for a woman.

I look up at her over the plates and blink a few times. She’s stunning. Tall, tan, and thin. She wears a red dress that emphasizes her body. Her hair is curly, natural curls, piled on top of her head in a cloud of platinum blonde. I swallow and nod, unable to speak.

Why are we here? I ask myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Nicolo study the woman. Something clenches tight in my chest at the way he’s regarding her.

“Do you enjoy your work?” Nicolo asks her.

I assume she’s met them both before since she doesn’t ask their names.

She takes a sip of wine and smiles. “Of course, or else I wouldn’t do it. I like the challenge of it. What about you, Mr. Diavolo? Do you enjoy your work?”

The sultry look in his eyes is layered with meaning, but I can’t read it. I glance at the other man. He’s also watching the pair of them. But he seems more focused on the woman. His brow furrows as he continues watching.