Reformed (Gangsters at War #5)

Chapter One

Jane

I handed the bags of vintage clothes across the counter to the two young men as they talked about the eighties party they’d be attending.

“We’ll be the most authentic ones there,” the paler of the two said, his dark blond hair pulled back into a man bun.

The other man with close-cropped dark hair grinned. “Those flares will look fucking perfect on you.” He looked into the bag I’d given him, as though checking everything was there. “The ladies will love us.”

“Enjoy your party,” I said, forcing enthusiasm into my voice.

Though I was pleased I’d made a good sale, I was equally disappointed the vintage clothes I’d sold wouldn’t be going to people who genuinely loved them.

People like me.

Though to be fair, I was a bit more passionate than most. I spent most of my free time scouring flea markets and charity shops, not to mention all the daily online scrolling I did to find clothes worthy to hang in my shop, along with handbags, jewelry and footwear.

The men barely acknowledged me. Of course they didn’t. I was used to disappearing into the background of colorful vintage clothing.

I sighed, only half-aware of my customers leaving as I wiped the dark-oak countertop, the doorbell jingling in their wake.

It wasn’t until my skin tingled, the hairs on my arms standing on end that I realized I wasn’t alone. I looked up and gasped as the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen approached the counter in a suit that had surely been tailored just for him. My mouth dried, and though my body was encased in a long-sleeved, ankle length peasant dress, I felt...exposed.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said in a low, thrumming voice that set off my hormones even harder.

“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t hear you come in.”

He smiled, his teeth white behind his trimmed beard, his dark eyes intelligent yet faintly cruel. I shook my head as his gaze softened and warmed. I’d imagined his coldness, surely?

“I came in as the other men left,” he explained.

His attention seemed to stay on me, his interest making me flush. He was nothing short of masculine perfection while I was feminine mediocrity. It didn’t stop my throat from drying even further as other, much more intimate parts of me flooded.

I sighed. He was so far out of my league it was almost comical, like putting a timid brown hen into a cage beside a strutting peacock with its iridescent tail plumage fanned out.

I touched my mousy-brown hair that I’d scraped back into a bun, my lightly freckled face bare of makeup. “How can I help you?” I managed to ask.

His smile widened, revealing a single dimple in his cheek. “I heard you sold vintage gold jewelry.”

I nodded. “I do. What were you after?”

“I was thinking perhaps a woman’s gold bangle.”

I nodded, though my stomach dropped a little, a pang of envy for the lucky lady for a moment taking away my sales pitch.

He cocked a dark brow. “You do sell them?”

“I–yes, of course.”

I flushed even harder as I bent and unlocked the cabinet beneath to pull out a glass display drawer that was lined with blue velvet. “We have some gorgeous pieces,” I announced, pushing back envy to proudly show him one of my favorites. “This piece here was rumored to have been worn by the iconic Cecilia Bell. Unfortunately, I can’t authenticate that.”

I turned to a file cabinet and pulled out another drawer, this one an information file. After riffling through it, I found the file that showed the photo of the twist gold bangle and diamond clasp. “This might persuade you though.”

“Impressive,” he murmured, glancing at the photo of the famous singer and actress with the bangle on her wrist that looked identical to the one I’d secured. He shook his head and chuckled. “My father dated her many years ago.”

I gaped. “He did?”

He nodded. “She was smart enough to leave him. That he allowed her to go still blows my mind.”

I frowned. What did he mean by that? It wasn’t as though any man could keep a woman against her will.

He glanced at the bangle again. “He might even have bought this for her.”

I leaned forward, my words rushing out. “Oh, can you ask? I’d love to know if he did!”

“Sorry,” he said flatly. “I can’t do that.”

“I understand if—“

“He’s dead.”

I clapped a hand to my mouth, then removed it and said weakly, “I had no idea. Please accept my most sincere apologies.”

He shook his head. “There is no need to apologize.” He grimaced as he handed the bangle back to me. “He was an asshole.”

My stomach fluttered along with my pulse, but there was nothing I could say in response to that. Instead I cleared my throat and said, “I have another bangle here that might interest you.”

His eyes held mine, and I forcibly didn’t look away as goose bumps raced down my spine. He spoke softly, intently. “Which one is your favorite.”

“Definitely the one I showed you.”

“Then I’ll take it,” he said.

“Oh.” I blinked. “I had this priced at twelve thousand, but I’m—“

“I’m happy to pay that for it,” he interjected. He seemed to look deep inside my eyes when he added, “I have a feeling it will be worth it.”

I shivered a little. “I’m sure she’ll be very happy with it.”

“I’m sure she will too,” he agreed. He watched me put it into a velvet bag, his hand going over mine as I went to give the tiny bag to him. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

I froze, my senses reeling. “Excuse me?”

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he repeated.

I shook my head. “I’m not looking to be your next rebound.”

“That’s good,” he said huskily, “because I don’t do rebounds.” He cocked his head to the side. “I want to know what you’re hiding behind your disguise, little sparrow.”

My breath hissed out. “Little sparrow?”

I might have been hurt had it come from anyone else, but from him the name was a compliment, not an insult, like he really did want to pluck away my dull brown feathers to find the sparkles beneath.

His eyes darkened. “You’re very...cryptic. And I do love solving a good mystery.”

His fingers tightened around my hand, the feeling both intimate and possessive. My heart thudded in my ears as the man—stranger—seemed too close and personal even as he seemed miles and miles away.

“I don’t even know your name,” I said in a scratchy voice.

“I’m Alessandro.”

“I’m Jane.” Plain Jane . “It’s lovely to meet you, Alessandro.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Jane.”

He released my hand and pocketed the bangle into his dark suit jacket, then said, “How does the restaurant at the marina sound for dinner?”

I blinked. “I don’t recall agreeing to going out to dinner with you.”

“But you want to, don’t you Jane? You might be a little sparrow to the outside world, but underneath I’m betting you’re a raptor.”

I almost snorted. He had to be on drugs. “I’ve always thought of myself as a pheasant.”

His bottom lip curled, his eyes glinting. “They are good eating.”

If I wasn’t already wet, I was now. The visual of him kissing his way down my body, then kissing between my thighs caused my breath to shudder out. How long had it been since I’d been with a man?

Too long, clearly.

“So what do you say Jane? Will you go out to dinner with me?”

He was a stranger, a man I knew nothing about.

Isn’t that the point? Having dinner in a public setting is a safe way to get to know someone.

I swallowed hard. Even my subconscious wanted me to throw caution to the wind.

I looked Alessandro up and down. He might appear dangerous, but since he wasn’t behind bars I had to assume he wasn’t an ax murderer or worse. And no criminal I knew, though admittedly I knew none, dressed like they’d stepped straight out of the pages of Vogue.

I finally nodded assent. I’d never been to the fancy restaurant on the marina where many of the rich and famous dined, I didn’t doubt this was my one and only chance to do so. “On one condition. I pay for my own meal and there are no strings attached after dinner.”

The latter should see him run a mile.

He nodded, his eyes alight with amusement. “No strings, got it.” He glanced at the chunky gold watch on his wrist. How does 7.00 tonight suit you?”

“That suits,” I said faintly, already overwhelmed just thinking about what I’d wear. I’d have to resort to my vintage stock I had in storage upstairs.

“Good. Where should I pick you up?”

“From here. I-I live upstairs. Ring the doorbell on the smaller side door. It’s the shop’s storage room.”

He nodded. “Will do. I’ll see you soon,” he added in a raspy voice that sounded as much a threat as a promise.

I shivered. Tonight would be life-changing.

I mentally shook my head. I clearly needed to rein in my overactive imagination. I was going on a date, nothing more.

So why did every cell in my body suggest otherwise?