Chapter 22 #2
Constantin stiffens, his features pulling taut despite his sagging jowls, and his shoulders go back sharply.
Beady little eyes glare at me, and I tip my head back further, arching a brow as if daring him to do something.
One wrong move, and Giulio will go Freddy Krueger on his ass.
That doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it should.
In fact, I’m counting on my husband’s psycho-protective streak.
Tingles start in my toes and spread up through my calves.
An image of Giulio dressed up in that ratty black-and-red striped sweater with claw-tipped hands stroking over my flesh has my insides flip-flopping.
That should not be hot, I tell myself. Unfortunately, Mean Daisy disagrees and is already stripping off her clothes and hopping onto an imaginary bed in preparation for the fantasy to expand.
“—shouldn’t be surprised.” Constantin’s scoff brings me back to reality with a sharp snap, and I blink, looking up at him in a daze.
“I’m sorry, what?”
His upper lip curls back in disgust. I feel my body drain of all excitement the unintended fantasy brought forth.
Dead eyes? Yeah, I’d bet both tits that my face has taken on the dead-fish look right now.
I haven’t felt this devoid of emotion since I was promptly informed that I would be kicked out upon my eighteenth birthday by the foster parents who housed me at the time.
I hadn’t waited for my birthday to hit the road, and I’m not going to wait for Constantin to demean me, either.
“Listen,” I say, holding up a hand to ward off any impending words from him that I’m not willing to listen to anyway. “I’m sure this is uncomfy for you—running into your boss’s wife and all that—but I—”
He snorts, cutting me off. I slowly lower my hand and tilt my head back. Well, then. Seems like he’s got something to get off his chest. I cross my arms, feeling the blouse’s silken fabric stretch tight over my elbows as I do. I ignore the slight discomfort and stare at him, dead-fish eyes and all.
“Wife?” He shakes his head. “You’re little more than a placeholder, girl.
” His tone has me considering the mace I’ve got in my bag.
I’ve never actually used it before. The one and only time I might have had a chance, I killed the guy.
Accidentally killed the guy, I remind myself.
Total accident. He just like… fell on a bullet…
a few times, and then technically, one could argue that if he hadn’t been in that alley to attack me, he wouldn’t have gotten himself shot. So, to be fair, that wasn’t my fault.
“A placeholder,” I repeat, feeling my dead-fish eyes lighten a bit as my lips twitch.
No, no, keep the crazy contained, girl, I warn myself.
Not that Mean Daisy is listening. In fact, she’s ignoring my warning and pushing against the inside of my head, ready to be let out.
Ugh, it’s like having a rabid dog in the back of your mind at all times.
She’s leashed tightly, but when she wants to—she can be hella annoying.
Constantin smirks and rocks back on his loafers.
I glance around, noting that people are giving him a wide berth, several glancing back at him with fear in their eyes as if they recognize the man.
My eyes return to him. I suppose I can understand why they’d react like that.
Constantin is practically doused in the “I will kill you if you look at me” cologne.
Unfortunately for him, it doesn’t suit my tastes and makes my nose wrinkle when he leans in close and in a low, threatening tone, speaks to me as if he were talking to a particularly slow child.
“Enjoy your position now, puttana,” he says snidely.
“It will not last. Once Giulio is done with you, I will take great pleasure in cutting you up and disposing of your worthless body.” There’s something he’s not saying.
Sure, I’m aware that whatever he just called me in Italian can’t be flattering, but there’s something wild in his eyes that sets me on edge even as it annoys the absolute shit out of me.
“Don’t hold back how you really feel,” I reply dryly. “And certainly, don’t worry about hurting my feelings, I can guarantee that I don’t give a fuck about what you have to say or what you think of me.”
Constantin’s face goes rigid, and then his bushy dark gray brows lift in surprise when I don’t shudder or start crying at his threat.
Instead, I step closer, and he straightens, appearing for all the world as if he’d like to back away from me.
Little, sweet, innocent civilian Daisy. The power that gives me is heady, and my inner psycho self relishes in the feel.
I don’t bother to go up on my toes to reach him.
Instead, I keep my feet flat on the ground and smile at him, showing him that I’m not bothered in the slightest. Maybe Giulio isn’t the only one with Freddy Krueger capabilities.
I’m not sure why this man thinks he has the right to say what he did to me, but one thing is clear—he doesn’t fear Giulio.
So, the next best thing is for him to fear me.
“You know,” I start as I unfold my arms and touch the lapels of his suit coat. I flatten two fingers over a barely-there wrinkle and stroke it down. “A lot of people underestimate women. They look at them and see what they want to see—weakness.” My smile grows as I sense Constantin’s unease.
Weren’t expecting this response, were you? I laugh internally.
Lifting my gaze inch by inch, up the sagging part of his throat to the age spots that dot the underside of his jaw up to his forehead, I take both lapels in my grip and tug lightly, aligning them neatly. “I’ll let my husband know that you wished me well.”
That’s it. That’s all I say as I release him and step back. My heart pounds against the inside of my rib cage, practically beating its invisible fists against my bones to break free. Then I turn and walk away.
One step in front of the other is the only way to go when you feel like your head is on a balloon, drifting into the clouds.
Holy hell, did I just threaten someone in the mafia?
Yes, yes, I fucking did. I’d felt like such a damn badass in the moment, but the farther away I get from Constantin, the closer I draw to the realm of “oh my fucking God,” and let me tell you…
it’s not all rainbows and unicorn shit. Panic wraps ugly, skeletal fingers around my throat, tightening until I swear I can’t breathe.
Somehow, though, I find myself walking into one of the entrances to Central Park several minutes later.
The sight of all the green and nature in a city made of chrome and speeding cars penetrates through the fog of anxiety that clings to my mind, and for the first time since I walked into the Gold Letter Publishing building earlier that morning, I feel air enter my lungs easily.
That “as easy as breathing” comment people make when they try to describe something simple is so stupid. Breathing isn’t always easy. Sometimes, it’s actual work.
I slow my steps as I come upon a path and just take the gradual peace of walking through bushes and trees and park to calm my frayed nerves.
I’m in the middle of chastising myself for threatening Constantin, even though the asshole deserved it, when a furry little ball comes flying at my legs.
The suddenness of the attack sends me right onto my ass in the center of the pavement.
“Shit!” My bag goes flying out of my grip, landing on the ground and slumping to the side, papers sliding out from the top as the ball of fur on my legs bounds into my lap and a wet, sandpaper tongue laps at my cheek.
“Luna, no!” a deep masculine voice calls out.
The shadow of a man falls over me, and I jerk my gaze up and up some more to the absurdly tall man that comes to a standstill in front of me.
The small blond dog that looks like a cross between a dachshund and a corgi sits with her hind legs propped on my upper thighs and her front ones planted on my chest and continues to lick at my face.
Then, as the man bends down to lift her away, I realize he must be the dog’s owner.
“I’m so sorry.” Brilliant blue eyes that remind me of Giulio’s appear in front of me and…
wow, okay, I never thought I’d meet another man who has the same stunning appeal as Giulio, but here he is.
Dressed in a pair of light gray joggers and a plain white T-shirt that stretches pleasingly over thick biceps and a wide chest, the man lifts the puppy from my lap and holds her against his chest even as he holds out a hand in a silent offer to help me up.
Luna squirms in his grip, her excitement at finding another friend making my lips twitch in amusement. I take the man’s hand and allow him to pull me to my feet.
“It’s all right,” I assure him, brushing off the small flecks of dirt and leaves still clinging to my clothes. All the while, I keep looking at the stranger and examining him.
He’s tall, at least six-foot-four, I’d guess.
The guy must either be an athlete or a gym nut, too, because he’s built as what Michelle would refer to as “a brick shithouse.” Wide, sturdy, and stacked with muscles that flex beneath his clothes.
Though it hadn’t been intended, eyeing him certainly gets my mind off Constantin.
My attention goes up to his face. The dark shadow of a beard that’s barely growing in dusts the underside of his jaw, up his chin, and along the sides of his face.
His equally dark brown hair is cut short along the sides and longer at the top, a curl drooping adorably over the side of his forehead, giving him an almost boyish look.
At least, he might have appeared boyish without all of the “hello, nice to see ya” bulging muscles.
If Michelle were here, she’d be on the ground panting and drooling.
Somehow, though, I can’t keep from comparing this guy to Giulio.
Yes, he’s got pretty eyes, almost as pretty as Giulio’s blue eyes, except this man has a thick ring of brown around his irises.
His hair is dark, but it’s slightly shaggier than Giulio’s and though he’s wider and thicker than my husband, I can’t help but appreciate the fact that were I to hug Giulio, at least I’d be able to reach fully around him.
I doubt that’d be possible with this guy.
Luna lets out a yip as the man hefts her higher on his chest. Her brown, tan, and white coloring make my heart melt almost as much as the floppy ears that smack against the side of her face and her owner’s as she shakes her head in quick, jerky back-and-forth movements.
The man sighs and looks down at the pet in his arms.
“I know we’re not supposed to have dogs off their leashes after a certain time in Central Park, but I’m trying to train her, and I was hoping she’d be better behaved,” he admits.
I laugh as Luna lets out another bark, obviously demanding to be released from his hold.
“It’s fine,” I say, chuckling as I move over to my fallen bag.
“Oh, let me help you,” he says, and with one hand holding the pup to his chest, the man reaches down and gathers my papers, shuffling them back into the folder that also slipped free and gently pushing them back into the confines of my bag.
“Thanks, and please, no worries about the puppy,” I tell him. “She’s adorable.”
The man looks down at the animal in his arms, and a soft smile lifts the corners of his mouth.
“That she is,” he agrees, rubbing his free hand over the pup’s head.
Buoyed by her owner’s attention, Luna barks and paws at his chest, earning another pet and then a scratch behind her left ear.
My lips twitch, and a laugh bubbles up as one of her lower legs begins to jerk against his chest in automatic pleasure.
“I’m Emil,” the man says, releasing Luna’s ear as he stretches the same hand out to me.
I take it. “Daisy.”
His fingers close around mine, warm and firm. When he releases me, I take a step back and heft my bag’s strap over my shoulder again. Just as I start heading toward the street, he calls out.
“Hey, how about I walk you home?” he says. Startled, I turn back to him, and his face pinches into a light grimace. “You know, to apologize for…” He drifts off, looking down at the dog in his arms.
I laugh and shake my head. “Oh, it’s not a problem,” I say. “I’m not far.”
I take a step, and he follows. “Even better,” he says. “I won’t have to apologize for long.”
Hesitantly, I stop trying to walk away. “You don’t need to walk me home,” I tell him. “It’s not necessary.” Feeling suddenly uneasy despite the man’s smile and relaxed stance, I look over his shoulder toward the trees, but there’s no one there.
“Please, I insist.” Emil starts moving before I can refuse him again.
Unsure, but more than ready to get back to the penthouse, it takes me a few seconds to start walking.
When I do, the smile Emil flashes me is all about comfort and politeness.
Were he anyone else, or perhaps were I anyone else, I might assume he was hitting on me.
He keeps his hands to himself, however, walking next to me with a good two-foot gap as he strokes Luna and talks about the weather and how nice Central Park is.
The penthouse is safe, I remind myself. All I need to do is get inside. It’s not like he’s going to follow me up to my floor. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s—
“Daisy!” Relief storms through me at the familiar vibrato of Giulio’s voice. Lifting my head, face stretching into a smile, I arch a hand into the air as I draw closer to the front of the chrome-and-glass building that houses Giulio’s penthouse.
Luna yips lightly at my side as I wave excitedly to both Giulio and the man at his side. Alonzo is standing with his back against the town car that’s parked against the curb. An unlit cigarette hangs from his lips. Giulio’s face, however, darkens the second he sets eyes on Emil next to me.
As we approach, I’m preparing to launch into how I ran into him in the park and he insisted on walking me back. The second I get within reaching distance, though, all of my well-laid intentions go up in smoke.
Giulio darts forward, hands closing on my upper arms as he yanks me back and away from the man. I’m thrust against Alonzo’s chest right before I hear Giulio’s low, throaty threat. “Give me one good reason why you were walking with my fucking wife, Cesari, before I snap your fucking neck.”