Dante, followed by his guard, entered the elevator with her, and then the guard punched in the code to take them straight to the bottom.
With the door sliding closed, Nadia slithered her eyes over to see him staring at his expensive watch again. It was everything she could do to keep her mouth shut, and it was only staying glued that way because she had still had the last word.
Putting his arm back to his side, Dante looked up at the falling numbers.
Nadia snapped her eyes to do the same, unable to wait for her release. Her eyes had wanted to drift back, swearing that she felt the icy gaze of his on her …
* * *
Don’t ask.
He wanted to.
I don’t care.
He did.
Don’t you dare ask.
He definitely wanted to.
I do not fucking care why she said that.
He definitely did, and if he was going to ask, he needed to do it now before …
* * *
Ding.
Oh, thank God.
Relieved, Nadia hurriedly stomped out of the elevator, leaving him in her dust. Well, she hoped, because she wouldn’t dare turn her head to see. Nope, her head stayed firmly forward as she went through the casino. Breathing in the cigarette smoke was a relief compared to the scent she’d had to endure in the elevator. The confined space made her realize, with the slight hint of what smelled like whiskey and his expensive cologne, she didn’t hate the scent of cigar smoke. Nadia was sure that scent would linger in her mind for days.
Finally, true freedom reached her when she swung open the heavy glass doors. Or so she thought.
She hadn’t made it a few steps on the sidewalk, toward her building that was only a few blocks away, when she heard her name being called from that commanding voice.
“Ms. Brooks.”
She was tempted to not turn around, but she found her body stopping and turning to look at Mr. Caruso, who stood beside the blacked-out town car that was parked in front of the hotel casino.
“How were you wrong about me?” He spoke loudly so his voice would travel over the noise of the city to her ears. “Because I can’t imagine what you expected from a man like me.”
Nadia could see his dark features become darker as she stalked up to him. “Yes, I’ve heard the rumors about you, Mr. Caruso.” She made no effort to conceal that she wasn’t scared, whether he was or wasn’t what those whispers were saying about him. Frankly, she just didn’t care what kind of organization he was running, legal or illegal. “But, depending upon who you ask, you’re considered a good man in the eyes of a lot people who live in this city.”
He seemed to be stunned by her answer for a moment. “The company you keep may not be of your best interest, then, Ms. Brooks.”
“The only company I care about are the kids who walk the streets all alone at night and grew up without a fighting chance.” She paused for a moment, her warm brown eyes boring into his cold ones. “I was under the impression you helped a young man in that same position once upon a time …”
* * *
Dante’s jaw flexed into a hard position upon hearing just how much she knew about him. Taking Salvatore Lastra off the streets when he had been just thirteen years old wasn’t something a lot of people in Kansas City knew about him. Nadia had clearly done her research, and he didn’t know how he should feel about it … until he did.
* * *
She watched his jaw fix into position as every hair on her body stood in fear. Men never made their money by being nice, and Nadia was afraid she had just gone too far, especially with Dante, who didn’t try hard to pretend he hadn’t made his money outside of the law.
“Careful, Ms. Brooks,” he warned in a low tone before the curve of his lips went up in another slow smile, “you may find a secret about me one day that you wish you hadn’t.”
It wasn’t until he reached into his hidden suit jacket pocket and pulled out a checkbook and pen that she relaxed.
Oh, I don’t doubt it.
Watching him scribble on the check, she couldn’t help but think, as soon as she got the check in her greedy little hands, this would be the first and last time she would ever be in the presence of Dante Caruso. She would take all future checks via mail or not fucking at all.
“Thank you, Mr. Caruso,” she said sincerely, uncaring of any amount he wrote in that tiny box. But when he handed it to her, she couldn’t help but notice it was the exact amount she needed from him. One hundred thousand dollars. “Y-you have no idea what this means to us,” she stammered in disbelief, pressing the check to her chest.