5. Chapter 5 #2
See, that’s why I could never be a nun. I’d already miserably failed in the celibate chastity department, and, knowing myself, would continue to do so until I got married one day.
The same old guilt and shame rose, and I stuffed them down. “Taking those vows sounds like a difficult decision. When do you take them? Like, how do you know you’re ready?”
“A novice has to stick around for at least four years before he can take the Solemn Vows. This should be enough time to figure out if being a monk is his vocation.”
“Did you take them?”
“Yes. I’m working towards becoming a priest, but like Father Cruz, I’ll stay with Saint James for the rest of my life. So I took them.”
I took in Brother Samuel’s side profile. Bet the female share of the Saint James congregation would go through the roof once he became a priest.
He exited the highway, and we rolled into the maze of skyscrapers, parks, neon signs, and digital billboards.
His mouth flattened into a thin line when we passed a tall glass building—the headquarters of Lincoln Grady Distillery.
There had to be another reason why he’d become a monk.
Something that cut deeper than just not wanting to be like his parents.
“Take a right here.” I pointed at the ramp leading to an underground parking garage next to Golden Palace. Should I bring my Ruger with me in case Craig thought it was funny to wait here for me? I’d stuffed it between my clothes and Bible in my duffle bag without thinking.
Nah, Rome wouldn’t allow the guy inside without a search warrant.
He’d never liked Craig. I should’ve listened to him when he told me my ex was a walking red flag.
Maybe growing up as the son of a Mafia don had trained him to smell people’s bull.
I, for one, was horrible at figuring out their true agenda.
I just wanted to befriend everyone and hear their stories and what drove them.
And I’d figured Rome didn’t like Craig because he was a detective.
Brother Samuel parked the F-150 next to a Rolls-Royce and a Mercedes-Benz SUV, then once again opened the door for me. He was such a gentleman. Did this have something to do with the way he’d been raised?
“What’s your real name?” I asked as we walked to a steel door with a STAFF ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT sign.
I punched in the access code, then held my right eye to the iris scanner.
Rome didn’t mess around when it came to security.
Anything else would be futile for a guy who moved in the circles he did.
Although I was certain he did it for everyone else’s safety, not his own, because the way he rode his Yamaha screamed “death wish.”
“Kingsley.”
I looked up at him. “I like that name.” So much that I wanted to call him Kingsley rather than Brother Samuel. Bet he wouldn’t appreciate that. So maybe I’d just do it in my brain.
Kingsley.
Yup, that’s exactly what I would do.
We ended up in a bleak concrete hallway that led to yet another steel door with a number pad. A different code was required for this one.
Deafening Reggaeton and the smell of Pine-Sol met us when I opened the door.
Instead of the usual purple neon lights, the club was fully illuminated.
All four bars stocked with all sorts of liquor were unoccupied, and so were the red velvet lounges in the VIP section.
The dance floor was the centerpiece of the club and the only part with a soaring ceiling.
Balconies allowed guests to look down on the dancing crowd.
Bado, who was part of the cleaning crew, was in the middle of mopping the black marble floor, sweat beading on his ebony skin.
I couldn’t help but move my body to the music and dance up to him.
He laughed and moved along with me. Then he unearthed a remote control from his breast pocket and aimed it at the DJ table on one of the balconies. The music cut off.
“What are you doing here, girl?” Bado looped his beefy arms around me and squished me against his thick chest.
“I need to talk to Rome,” I squeaked. “Is he here?”
Bado released me. “Just got back from dropping off his niece at school. Gino got busted.”
My stomach roiled. “He did?”
“Yup. Told you it was only a matter of time. Just wait till it’s the boss’s turn.”
We had talked about this numerous times.
If Rome ever got arrested or killed, we’d likely all lose our jobs.
That was the downside of working for a member of the Italian Mafia.
The upside was a job in the most luxurious club on the island, fair pay and hours, and the kind of reputation that made party guests behave—which was invaluable to me as a female bartender and server.
No one wanted to end up at the mercy of Romeo Marino’s wrath for assaulting one of his employees.
“Wait.” I held up a hand. “Does that mean he has to take over . . .”
“Yes ma’am.”
Oh, no. Rome had tried to cut all ties to the Mafia for a while. With his brother out of the picture, Rome was next in line to take over his father’s legacy.
Good Lord.
Bado extended a hand to Kingsley, not even batting an eye at the habit. “Nice to meet you, man. I’m Bado.”
“Brother Samuel.” Kingsley’s mouth curved up as they shook.
“Thanks, Bado.” I pecked his cheek, then turned to Kingsley and caught his hand. “Follow me.”
I made for the VIP section—
And got jerked back.
I turned to Kingsley, who hadn’t moved an inch. He stood rooted to the marble floor, staring at our hands. Then his wide eyes came to me.
Oh.
“Sorry, I did that out of habit.” I let go of his warm, calloused hand. Not everyone loved physical touch as much as I did. Kingsley obviously didn’t. Not from a woman anyway.
Bado, bless his heart, turned the music back on, saving me from more awkwardness.
I led the way to the onyx bar in the VIP section—keeping my hands to myself this time—where I pulled at the last whiskey bottle on the illuminated glass shelf lining the wall.
It just so happened to be a bottle of Lincoln Grady Distillery’s Family Reserve.
A part of the wall swung open, and I slipped through, Kingsley right behind me.
We ended up in a red-painted hallway. No sight of the two bouncers who usually lingered here in case someone snuck through the secret passage.
I walked up to the black steel door and waved at the camera in the right upper corner.
Rome most definitely had already seen us on the feed before we even entered the club.
A heavy lock disengaged, and I pulled the door open.
For some odd reason, my stomach fluttered.
Rome could be intense, and he was very protective of me.
In a big brother kind of way. When I had started working for him two years ago and tried to get his attention, he’d made it clear that he didn’t get involved with his employees.
In hindsight, I was pretty sure it had been God’s doing.
I’d been young and na?ve, blinded by his bad boy persona without knowing how dangerous the Mafia was.
Yet Rome had always looked out for me. Hopefully he’d act respectful toward Kingsley.