Chapter 10
Cipriana
Today was freakin’ crazy .
I’m staring in the mirror of the only bathroom in this psycho’s house.
Is every day going to be like this? I don’t think my little heart can handle it.
Looking at my fingers clasped around the sink, I realize I bit one of my gel cap nails clean off.
Opening my blazer shows blotches all over my neck from stress… or maybe heat.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to kiss Trino just now, in the garage. The way he towers over me with his warm embrace – it’s like nothing could touch me while he’s around. So capable…
So dangerous, Capri! Cut it out!
God, now I can never go back to work. I’m mortified. Not to mention the fact two Italian hitmen might’ve shoved me in a basement somewhere until they found my father.
No. No. No. No.
I’m stuck here, aren’t I?
I squeeze my eyes tight and then open them to look myself in the mirror. It’s all hitting at once – this feeling of being trapped. Maybe I can go backpacking with Jacky to a festival or something, get out of the country for a few months. I’m sure Dad has money packed away that I can use.
Hearing Trino’s heavy footsteps a floor below makes me think otherwise. He’d never allow it. As a matter of fact, I shouldn’t underestimate him ever again. A picture of Jerry’s kid ? Like… what?
He may look like a hot shell of a man, but he is ruthless underneath the hood.
And… he’s mine.
My chest weakens at the thought, more blotches forming across my neck. Hm. Maybe it’s not the danger that’s causing those.
“Capri,” Trino growls from downstairs.
“What?” I can’t help but yell back. He has to know how crazy this is, even if he’s numb to it all.
“When you’re done being Mrs. Hyde, please come downstairs.”
I huff, smirking. That was actually funny. The big grump made a joke. Maybe he’s not so stiff.
Alright, better go see what he wants. I lean down to take the designer heels he bought me for work, which I should appreciate. He didn’t have to do that, after all. He’s actually treating this like a relationship in some small ways. It’s weird.
“Coming.” I approach the marble steps, noticing him at the foot of them waiting with a shadow of a smirk on his face. Fine. I’ll smirk back.
But then I see what he’s holding, and I freeze on the staircase. Beneath the clear dry-cleaner wrapping, there’s a skimpy dress that might as well be lingerie.
“Is this you flirting or something?” I’m taken aback. “Or some sick joke?”
“Neither.” He stands his ground. “This is your new work outfit.”
“Screw off.” I make my way down the stairs and step right up to him. Jeez, I’m way shorter without those heels on. I’m barely up to his neck.
“What did I tell you before, Capri? You want to stay in one piece? Follow exactly what I say.” He shakes the outfit in his grasp. “And I say… this is your new work outfit.”
“And what am I going to be doing in that?”
“Stripping. At my club.”
“Not in your wildest dreams.” I push him, and he doesn’t move. Actually, I move. What, is he made of freaking concrete?
He hides his smirk at that too. “Listen. We’re going to change your hair up a bit, overdo your makeup and get you dressing completely opposite of your personality. This way I can keep you hidden from the other families out to get you. The last place they’ll fucking look is Star Dust. Understand ?”
My blood boils. I clench my fists, wishing my punches would do something to the brick shithouse standing in front of me. “What part of ‘ no’ don’t you understand? Out of the question. Want me to say it in Italian? Assolutamente no. Did that get past the wax in your ears?”
“This is how you stay safe, Capri. Get your teenage tantrums out now, so we can move on.”
I must look like a boiling teapot at this point. Steam shoots out of my ears, I swear . Who the hell does he think he is?
Okay, think, Capri.
“Just leave me here, in this fortress,” I suggest.
“Then I won’t have an eye on you. Remember, your father goes pop if I’m not living out my days happily married… if someone gets to you.”
“Stanzo wouldn’t.” I frown.
“You really want to test that theory?” His cold eyes look almost completely grey in this light. They make me cower and think the worst.
“Okay, make me a cashier or something. Bartender. Whatever .”
“Strippers come and go all the time. The other roles have staples for almost five years now. This is the only course. Either that, or escort.”
My hands clap over my mouth in horror. Manipulative prick. He’s trying to make stripper look like the good choice here.
“I’ve already thought it all out. There’s no other way I can reduce suspicion amongst my crew. I hang with strippers almost exclusively. That’s it, Capri. Time to move to the acceptance stage. Hah. ”
I gasp again. A pun? “You think you’re freakin’ funny? Ugh. I want to punch you in the throat and watch you squirm.”
He bark laughs at that. “Two days, and you’re already fantasizing about hurting people.” He shoves the outfit into my grasp. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. You can pick your name too. If it’s decent, I’ll let you keep it.”
I’m left flabbergasted.
“Oh, and another thing. Once we make it to Star Dust, you call me Daddy .”
My mouth hangs open. I’ve never wanted to hit somebody so hard in my life. Disgusting pig of a man. What the fucking shit am I doing here?
He walks into one of his many offices and shuts the door. I imagine him on the phone with his friends, laughing about how he has to babysit a woman whose dad got caught up with the wrong crowd. Well, he wouldn’t say that because it would blow our cover, but the sentiment is there.
Every time I glance at the skimpy dress, I want to cry. Lace ties, see-through spots on the abdomen section. A strap that’s almost as thin as a thong. Hot pink?
I shake my head and drop onto the couch. It still smells like him. But that comfort he gave me taking watch at night faded with… this .
Daddy? Yuck.
Hours go by. I’ve been through every scenario in my head. Yes, including the one that ends with me on stage beside another half-naked woman sliding down a pole. Sure, I’ve danced at clubs before, been grinded on, but putting on a show for people? Pleading for money with my breasts?
This is the third time tears well up in sixty minutes. The only way out is if I beg him to keep me locked up in a basement or something. At least then I could keep my dignity, right?
For some reason I just know I’m not going to fit in when I get there. I imagine catty dancers flipping their hair and turning their backs on new meat – especially at meat that doesn’t belong. Shit . And here I was, priding myself that I could get along with everybody just a few days ago.
But wouldn’t it be a good smack in the face to Trino if I actually pulled it off? He wants me uncomfortable, the prick.
No, Capri. He’s just trying to keep you alive.
Maybe it’s a bit of both and a lot of neither. The sun is starting to go down, though, and it’s dragging a pit into my belly along with it. Clock’s ticking.
I hold up the outfit for the umpteenth time, still terrified to take it out of its wrap. Once I do, that means I concede, and I’m no longer a lawyer, just a tiny dancer, right, Elton? Well, I wouldn’t be that tiny. My dad used to say I’m model height.
I smile sadly at the outfit.
What would he say if he saw me in this?
Clk!
Trino’s door opens, and he finally emerges.
I wipe my face free of tears so he doesn’t see, but he does.
“Still pouting about my little plan?” He walks up to me, judging me.
“Did you have a nice laugh with your friends on the phone?”
“The hell are you talking about? I was prepping the business managers for tonight’s events.”
“On a Sunday?”
“Not everyone has a nice little family, Capri. I feed the other side.”
I fidget in my seat and kick him accidently, my bare foot rubbing against his leg. It makes him look down to the dress.
“Did you think of a name? Your shift starts at ten.”
I shake my head. “Just leave me here. I’ll take my chances and hide in a closet if I have to.”
He crouches down so we’re eye-to-eye. “I’m going to protect you.”
My heart skips a beat. There’s sincerity in his voice. And he’s not just saying it – he’s led by action for two days straight.
“But—you’re going to have to trust me. Even if it means stepping outside your comfort zone.”
My shoulders slump and I look away in defeat.
Am I really going to do this?
“Misty,” I say.
“What?”
“That’s my stage name. Take it or leave it.”
He smiles fully for the first time. God, he’s handsome.
Is that… a dimple? He’s got a freakin’ dimple?
How cute is that? And all his chiseled features are exposed when his pearly whites are showing.
It’s kind of sick that me posing as a stripper is the only way to get him happy.
Probably equally as sick as me mentally pasting his beautiful face on faux wedding pictures in my mind.
Oh, just kill me already.
“I’m going to pick up food at Stinginos. What can I get you?”
“Oh, you can leave me for that—”
“I’ll be gone all of five minutes. What do you want? ”
“Spaghetti bolognese,” I mutter. “Side of shrimp cocktail.”
He grunts and stands.
“What?” I ask.
“Big girl at heart.”
“Hey!” I kick him on purpose this time. Then I get up and smack his arm. I like touching him, even if it’s quick and catty. Is it bad that I’d wish he’d catch my hand and just kiss me right here?
But he doesn’t. He just pushes me back into my seat with one finger and grabs his keys from the table.
I’ll show him.