4. Evelyn
Of course the first time one of the VIPs selected me, it was a man who probably wanted me dead to cover his tracks. My sole hope was convincing him I had no idea who he was.
I didn’t recognize him.
He was just a client.
“Me?” My voice was choked, fear strangling me despite my efforts to pretend.
“Of course you!” Roxy said at my side, beaming at me, ignorant to the reason for my reluctance.
I didn’t tell anyone that I’d seen someone trying to plant a bomb beneath the moneyman’s car. No one would believe me, and since there was no explosion, there was no investigation. Fine by me. The Father hammered it into the entire Family: the cops are our enemies.
But wouldn’t it have been better for him to come in alone if he wanted to kill me? The only reason he would come in with them is to demonstrate the full might of his power.
He was maybe a decade older than I was, but his confidence belonged to a man twice my age. The chuckles at my expense didn’t take him off balance. Jimmy watched silently, his red skin blotchy. He wasn’t smiling.
“This one’s shy, eh?” said a man with a gruff Eastern European accent, tossing his head back with a deep belly laugh.
“She needs a real man,” said another as he grabbed his crotch. Laszlo’s gaze hardened beneath his long lashes, his sharp jaw tensing, but his focus was unwavering.
“Yes. You. You’re mine tonight, angel.”
His voice was dark and broody, meant for radio, or reading dirty fiction aloud.
A tempest whirled within me, the emotions of the last few weeks catching speed as I stared up at him.
Decades of being raised under the weight of feminine submission, learning the power in not struggling, I closed the distance between us. I forced a warm smile to my lips and hoped it wasn’t the smile that my mother warned me would invite sin.
He was at least a foot taller than me, and I had to crane my head back to meet his gaze.
“Happy to serve you, then. Hi,” I said as I delicately placed my hand in his.
“Well, she likes you after all, Laszlo!” Another clap on his shoulder, and he rocked in his polished leather shoes. More men joined in before picking their own ladies according to the now familiar hierarchy.
The VIP lounge was always reserved for them.
I’d seen it only once, when Roxy was giving me a tour after hours.
It was posh, comfortable. Secluded. Chrome mirrors surrounded the walls, but they were slightly distorted by smudges and age, the reflections out of focus.
The booth was plush, forming a circle with a massive table in the middle.
Drinks were already on it, glasses dripping with condensation.
My arm slipped into Laszlo’s, his black overcoat soft and warm against my skin. He was dressed in layers, a vest, shirt, scarf, and didn’t take any of it off despite how stuffy the club was.
He claimed the centre of the seat, pulling me into his side.
Earlier in the week I’d found a chain in the pocket of one of my thrifted pieces, and turned my protection crystal into a necklace.
I was skilled at handicrafts, and focusing on making a piece of jewellery distracted me from the growing stress I was under.
The man with the bomb. The Family I ran away from that I hated but that I also missed so much it made me want to die.
I held it, trying to ground myself. I’d worn it for luck, but it didn’t help. A villain had found me in its place.
A nervous giggle bubbled up from my throat.
He looked at me, and for the first time, I felt seen.
My secret, inner-most self unveiled by those crystal-clear eyes.
He didn’t flinch from eye contact, studying me the way one might study a painting. Quiet authority radiated from him, but the edge of his lip twitched with amusement at my laugh.
He was untroubled. Did he not recognize me?
Of course he did. I recognized him, and all I had to go by were his beautiful eyes, the colour of silver and ice. I was even wearing the same skirt and top as I had on when we first met.
So why wasn’t he saying anything? Why wasn’t he threatening me, or asking if I told anyone what I saw? The unease built in my stomach, and I trembled against him. His thumb rubbed my flesh.
“Don’t.”
“What?” I startled.
“Don’t tense up. Everything is fine. Right, angel?”
Angel? He definitely knew that I knew.
What tipped him off? I should’ve started kissing him. That would have seemed normal in this place, but I’d never kissed anyone before.
I studied his piercing eyes, flawless pale skin, and peachy lips. His expression was impassive. Anger didn’t hide in the corner of his mouth or the vein in his temple. He regarded me with an even temper, and that was even more frightening.
“What’s your name?”
“Ev-” No. Wrong. “Belle.”
“Clever girl. Don’t tell anyone in here your real name. Especially not me.”
“Should I not ask your name?”
He seemed surprised by my curious phrasing. He reached into his overcoat, and I shrank back. His brow raised, and instead of a gun, he pulled out a thick, embossed business card.
LASZLO SZáSZ
FINANCE, ACCOUNTING, PROGRAMMING
A strange card for a mobster. What did I expect, though?
‘Assassin for Hire’? ‘Professional Bomber’?
‘Certified Money Launderer: You whack ‘em, I cash ‘em’?
I swallowed a dark laugh.
My sense of humour had taken a turn since leaving the Family, being left to fend for myself. Being in his presence warped it further.
I held the card in trembling hands, then put it in my purse.
Mr. Bodrov clinked his glass, gathering everyone’s attention as the last drink was distributed. The warmth of a crowd was familiar, but the smells and sounds were all different from those at the Mount.
“Here’s to our new prodigy, Laszlo!”
Everyone lifted their glasses, including me, my hand shaking. Laszlo took his time before finally lifting his glass to accept the toast. It was a delicate power play, an acknowledgement of his importance.
“This fellow is going to make us all… very stupid rich!”
Laszlo swallowed his drink down without a word and the others followed, even Jimmy.
My skin prickled as Laszlo’s fingertips touched my bare upper arm. His grip wasn’t alarming, but I was squeezed into his side, and my heart raced. He smelled of pine and mulled berries, his exquisite coat soft against my bare side.
His nails were painted black, and I studied the rings on his fingers. They were beautiful and well made, but weren’t as unique as his tailored outfit, and the black opal didn’t suit the setting the jeweller had chosen.
“Is that a snake tattoo on your hand?” I asked.
“Ouroboros. It represents the cycle of life and death, and the futility of escaping the inevitable.”
My stomach churned, wondering if that was a threat.
He reached into his stylish overcoat and took out a brass case. He opened it up, showing rows of fancy cigarettes. I politely declined his offer, and he took one for himself. “Do you mind?”
“No, my grandmother always smoked, so the smell reminds me of her. I’d spend the summers with her, and when I’d go back home, I’d hate the moment I couldn’t smell her on me any more.”
Why was I talking about my grandmother’s smoking habits? Get it together, Evelyn.
I forced myself to stop rambling, a heady flush rising along the hollow of my throat. Laszlo observed me with curiosity.
I was doing everything I could to be normal, but I’d never been successful at that in the past. Now I didn’t even know what would be normal. What would Roxy have done if she saw a man with a bomb?
He smoothly put away the brass case, lighting up the cigarette. He perched the smoking stem between two long fingers, bedecked in his many rings, then took a pull from it.
“You’re a strange girl,” he remarked.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could normal.”
His index finger found my chin, forcing me to meet his silver eyes. Intensity radiated from him, contained and controlled.
“Don’t hate the thing that makes you unique.”
His words took me by surprise, and I didn’t know how to reply. There was a pause, and then he said, “Sorry about your grandmother.”
His unexpected condolences further confused me.
“It’s okay. She had a great life. Travelled everywhere, had five husbands. Two at the same time, because of some mix-up about a husband who returned from the dead.”
I was divulging far more information than I intended. I was nervous.
“Two husbands at once? Quite the lady. Respect to your grandmother,” he said, the hint of a genuine smile teasing the edge of his lips. I stared at it, desperate for that amusement to spread to the rest of his face. “What is your goal? Work here until you can afford a couple boytoys of your own?”
I snorted with laughter, and he grinned back at me. I committed the crinkle in the corner of his eyes, the curl of his lip and his dimples, to memory.
He was devilishly handsome.
“Oh gosh, imagine. I wouldn’t even know what to do with them.”
That was an understatement. Twice I’ve run away from the life the Father had arranged for me, and the man I had been promised to. And now I was spilling my guts to an attempted bomber.
But some movie I’d watched at my grandmother’s house years ago tickled the back of my mind.
Make him see you as a person. Then he won’t hurt you.
I don’t think it worked in the movie. I don’t think he ever saw her as a person, but it was worth a shot.
Maybe Laszlo was different from the serial killer in the film.
“I was hoping to start my own business, which is very expensive and impractical. Plus, I doubt my downstairs neighbours would love a rock tumbler.”
“Rock… tumbler?”
“Oh, ah. I wanted to make jewellery. Like…” I lifted my necklace from my chest, showing him the set stone.
His rings glinted in the dim light as he took another drag of his cigarette, and he stared at my necklace.
“You made this?”
“Yes. I mean, I got the chain, then made the setting for the stone.”
A flicker of genuine interest crossed his gorgeous face. “It suits you. The colour brings out your eyes. A beautiful cornflower blue. So, is that all that’s stopping you from making a business out of this? Neighbours?”
“I never had any real plans. Just stupid dreams.”
He frowned. I’d said the wrong thing, and I flinched, my gaze dropping.
His index finger crooked under my chin, and he forced my head up.
“I want to know about your dreams, Belle. It will make it easier for me to fulfil them for you.”
I must have misheard him. Why would he care about my dreams? My mother hated that I had thoughts at all, let alone dreams for a future she’d never allow me.
“Oh. Uhm, I’d love to run a shop, making custom pieces. I had mountains of sketches of these elaborate necklaces, and shoulder pieces, and rings. I’d love to design beautiful pieces that people would want to wear, but that takes money to get started.”
Words flowed out of me with such ease, with intense speed, and I sucked in a breath.
“It’s hard to get unique pieces,” he agreed. “There are few artisans around here, fewer who can capture my style.” He ran a hand through his long, dark hair, letting it fall back around his face beautifully.
“Men’s jewellery is pretty one-note. And opals need more support than that one has,” I said, gesturing to one of his rings. “They’re fragile and prone to cracking, so a wider setting is better.”
He raised a brow, looking at the ring curiously.
“Is that so? You should take this seriously, Belle. You’re young, and you owe it to yourself to take a chance on your dreams. Let me commission something.”
A commission? No one had ever put that kind of faith in me before. He barely knew me, but he was more supportive than anyone in the Family had been of my passions.
He watched my mouth, mirrored my smile, noticed the smallest of my motions. No one had paid such close attention to me before, and I tried not to flinch from the intensity.
He reached out, his finger touching the cloudy crystal that rested between my collarbone with reverence, stroking it with his index finger as he held my gaze. My heart rattled in my chest. The pad of his fingertip grazed my sensitive skin, and I sucked in a sweet breath of air.
His hand left my necklace, and his thumb touched on the fullest part of my lower lip.
It was shockingly intimate.
I didn’t know what to do.
I kissed the tip of his thumb.
He lingered there. His dimples deepened. His eyes crinkled at the edges, the darkness of his pupils sparkling like the night sky.
He withdrew his thumb, kissing the pad where my lips had just been.
Then he wrapped his arm around me, drawing me into his body heat. The boisterous crowd had dissipated into private booths, leaving us alone for the moment.
I swallowed the cotton ball in my throat.
“Why did you choose me?”
I didn’t want to know the answer to that question, but I needed to.
He stroked back a loose strand of my hair.
“I chose you because you are an angel too good for this world, let alone this place. I chose you because if anyone else chose you, I’d have to kill them.”
The air was still between us, unbroken by breath. His gaze held mine, sparking with passion, an unfamiliar sensation curling in my chest. It wasn’t until the edge of his lip twitched into a lopsided smile that I exhaled with a giggle that was quickly stolen.
“You know why I chose you.”
Butterflies turned to razor blades in my stomach, and I tried to pull away, but he held me into him. His gaze turned hard, a faint twitch beneath his left eye.
I stared at his lips.
“Because I saw you that night?”
“Mm.” He stroked my cheek with his thumb.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I know you didn’t. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”
My heart seized, and belatedly I realized I was bobbing my head, eager for the praise. For his praise. I was a starving dog, hungry for scraps, even if I knew it was a trap.
“I wouldn’t go to the cops. Or anyone. Especially not anyone here.”
He leaned in, kissing my forehead, a reward for behaving. His full lips were cool against my feverish temperature. He lingered there, and my eyes fluttered shut, trapping the tears inside. Warmth bloomed in my lower belly.
“Everything will be okay, as long as you do exactly what I say. Can you do that for me, angel?”
I nodded again, this time against his lips. He pulled away, his arm still wrapped around me.
He was thoughtful for a moment, and then his velvety voice took shape around my fake name. “Belle.” There was a poignancy to his tone, something edged with warning. A roll of bills filled my palm. His thumb closed my grip around it.
“If you tell anyone you saw anything that night, it will be the last thing you do.”