3. Carmela
Carmela
“ Y ou look beautiful tonight. For someone who keeps getting death threats, you’re glowing,” Mick says smoothly, holding the door open for me to slide out of the town car he sent for me.
My knee-jerk reaction is to tell him it’s because I got fucked last night, but the last thing I want before we meet the detective he flew in is for him to lose his shit over another man touching me. Mick likes to think he owns me. And while I may cave every now and then and let him back into my bed, he certainly doesn’t get to dictate what I do with my personal time.
His hand rests on the small of my back as we walk into NYPD Headquarters. The sun has long since started its descent below the horizon, the dusky oranges mixing with the blues of the starry night sky. The timing for this meeting isn’t ideal, with the dinner crowd at the restaurant I own and prep starting for Désirer, my adult club. Still, the need to stay low and not attract paparazzi means late-night discussions with this new detective and the Chief of Police on how this operation will run.
The building empties as we enter the elevator, most people going home for the evening. Mick hits a button for one of the top floors. “Tell me again why you decided to fly this particular detective across the country? Surely there are plenty of men here who can catch this guy?”
This guy being whoever keeps sending me creepy letters with nursery rhymes alluding to my death. It’s been three weeks with as many letters—all typed out, all accompanied by a decaying red rose tied with a black ribbon.
“If it were just notes this guy was leaving, it would be a different story, Mellie. But we’ve got two dead bodies on our hands, and we’re damn lucky Paul isn’t making us shut down.” His hand skims lower, the large palm cupping my backside gently and pulling me into his side. “I want you safe. This guy comes highly recommended.”
Ah, yes. There have also been two murders, and while they didn’t happen at the club, the men who were killed were quickly pinpointed to have memberships at Désirer. Mick doesn’t think it’s a coincidence .
For a moment, I allow myself to sink into his familiar warmth, a faint hint of vanilla engulfing my senses. I used to love that smell…until I discovered it came from his wife’s perfume. Still, mixed with the tobacco and freshly cut grass scent that is uniquely Mick, I relish it for a few seconds before stepping out of his hold.
Before he can say anything, the elevator doors open, and I don’t wait for him as I step out onto a lifeless floor of cubicles and desks. On the far side of the space is a large room encased in glass, which houses a table that a bunch of men are sitting around. Some of them I recognize, like Paul Westin, the Chief of Police, and Lieutenant Larry Wrighton. Two have their backs to me, and I don’t recognize the other.
I’m the only woman in attendance. Typical, that my life sits in the hands of a bunch of men.
I love putting on a show. When all eyes are on me, I flourish. But every step forward has anxiety dripping from my pores, my thoughts a frantic fray of should I have worn something different? Flats instead of heels? Less makeup? So that they’d take me more seriously.
As if he can read my thoughts and body language, Mick catches up to me, bending to whisper, “You look incredible. Stop worrying.”
This morning, I chose one of my signature pantsuits—black, high-waisted, wide-legged pants with a modest black top under a matching suit jacket tailored specifically for me. My pantsuits make me feel powerful, like I look as important as I feel in them. But in all honesty, I feel more at home in the costumes and clothes I wear at Désirer.
Men pay more attention to me and give me more respect when I’m wearing next to nothing—ironic, I know.
All eyes turn to us as Mick opens the door and ushers me inside. I don’t bother gracing anyone but the Chief with my gaze, which is tight with apprehension. We’ve worked together for years, but I still always feel like I have to be on my guard around him, as though at any moment, he’s going to slap a pair of cuffs on my wrists and haul me away for all the illegal shit I do, no matter how complicit he is.
“Carmela, Mick, good to see you both.” Paul walks forward and shakes my hand before he and Mick do one of those one-armed hug things men like to do. He introduces the rest of the men I’ve never met, before they all fall into easy conversation that has nothing to do with murders or death threats.
Since none of the men are introduced as this mysterious detective Mick paid a fortune for, I assume we’re still waiting for him and survey the room from my place at Mick’s side. Besides Paul and Larry, there are Martin and Nikolai, who look like they’re fresh out of the academy, and Captain Kevin Krowder, who looks like he’s more interested in his phone than what the rest of the men are talking about.
Mere minutes go by before the door opens behind us, and a familiar voice rings out, “Sorry I’m late. I thought California traffic was bad. It’s got nothing on rush hour here, though.”
The deep, throaty cadence slides along my spine like an ice cube on a hot summer day, making my nipples pucker instantly as I recall all the things the owner of the voice whispered to me the night before. Mick turns to greet the newcomer while I freeze, taken by surprise, unsure of how to react. Mick can’t know about Anders, and how the hell is Anders going to react when he finds out I’m the woman he was brought here for?
“I heard you specialized in cases like this, which is why I wanted you specifically,” Mick is telling him as I slowly turn around.
Anders looks at me, stunned, as he takes in my wide-eyed appearance. As discreetly as I can, I shake my head, attempting to communicate that he can’t let on that we know each other.
“This is my…business partner, Carmela. Mellie, this is Anderson Brooks.” Mick’s hand reaches for my back again, and Anders’ eyes immediately dart to where he touches me before moving to the ring on Mick’s hand and back to my face.
Sticking out my hand, I plaster a tight smile on my lips. “Nice to meet you. ”
Anders takes it and shakes it slowly, the heat from his palm searing my skin. “I was under the impression I was brought out for a murder investigation,” he says slowly, confused by my presence.
“It’s a little more complicated than that, Brooks. Why don’t you have a seat, and we can fill you in on the need for all the secrecy,” Paul tells him.
Anders lets go of my hand as we all sit around the table. Mick sits next to me with Anders across from us, as Paul launches into the reason he’s here. “You weren’t just chosen because of your reputation, Brooks. You were chosen primarily for your ability to be discreet. I’m not sure how things run in California, but here, we like to work with our citizens to ensure a smooth operation for the city.”
“I’m not following.” Anders’ hazel orbs bounce from Paul to Mick and me, then back to the Chief again. The sleeves of his black polo are pushed up to his elbows, his tattoos fully on display. I try not to let my eyes linger on the way his muscles ripple through the shirt, my mouth practically salivating at the memory of the way they felt wrapped around my naked body.
His dark brown hair is short on the sides and finger swept on top, looking effortlessly styled, though I know he uses something to set the long strands in place. He’s clean-shaven, but I prefer the neatly trimmed beard he had yesterday. Pressing my legs together, I shift in my seat. Mick looks down at my lap, mistaking my squirming as a reaction to him, and discreetly sets his hand on top of my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze before turning his attention back to the Chief.
“Miss Lane here runs an underground adult club. Senator Charles is a silent owner of the business. A few weeks ago, Miss Lane got a death threat.” Captain Krowder tosses a file folder on the table and slides it over to Anders, suddenly ready to talk business. “There’s been two more since the first, along with two murders—not inside the club, but the men that were killed were both members. It may be a coincidence, but we think it’s not.”
Anders doesn’t even look at the folder. Instead, his hazel gaze settles on me. “Adult club?”
I instantly feel judged by the tone of his voice. “Désirer is a place where people can explore their sexual desires safely, without judgment.”
I can see the cogs working in his brain as he mulls over what he just learned, linking it to what we did last night. Disdain drips from his voice as he asks, “So it’s a sex club? You’re telling me you’re a prostitute?”
“Watch it, kid,” Mick snaps in warning.
Anders doesn’t pay him any attention. His lip curls in disgust as he stares at me, and for the first time in a long time, I feel ashamed. Then I feel angry. “We don’t like to use that term. There’s nothing wrong with sex, Detective Brooks. I happen to offer a place where individuals can have it any way they want with like-minded people.”
You crawled into my cab for a random fuck, and you want to sit there and judge me?
My silent question is displayed on my features, plain as day. He angrily swings his head to look at Paul. “I’m sorry, you’re telling me you condone this shit?”
“Easy, Brooks. Miss Lane pays her taxes and is on time with them, too, which is more than I can say for half the businesses in this city. She makes numerous donations to shelters around the city, and the senator here makes a sizable donation to the department every year. Like I said before, we like to work together. Discreetly ,” Paul emphasizes.
“Which, by the way, before you leave this room, you’ll be signing an iron-clad non-disclosure agreement,” Mick cuts in.
“What if I say no?” Anders asks, finally grabbing the folder to thumb through the notes I’ve received and the photos of the men who were found murdered in their homes.
“With a disabled mother at home, and a grandmother who requires round-the-clock care, you won’t,” Mick states matter-of-factly.
There’s a pinch in my heart at the mention of his family, and Anders raises his eyes, the amber flecks in them glowing brightly as he glares at Mick. “Why not hire someone who’s from here? Why me? ”
Captain Krowder clears his throat. “Just like we work with Miss Lane, we also work with less desirable citizens. We want to keep this operation small, and we know we got guys on the inside who will jump at the chance to sell information to people like Vinny Morroni.”
“Who’s Vinny Morroni?” Anders asks, but everyone ignores him and keeps talking like they didn’t hear him.
“Your Lieutenant said you’re good at what you do, Brooks. You get in, you get out, you stay quiet about it,” Paul adds.
“I want this guy caught quickly, Detective Brooks.” Mick looks at me, his gaze softening. “And I want Carmela kept safe. For obvious reasons, I can’t be there all the time. I want to know she’s in good hands.”
“And who exactly is she to you, Senator? Besides your business partner ?” The temperature in the room drops drastically as everyone freezes. Mick’s head swivels slowly to look at Anders while the other men suddenly find their phones more interesting than this shit show.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Anders is trying to gauge Mick’s and my relationship out of pure personal interest in maintaining our sexual one. But his following words put the final nail in the coffin of any sort of intimate situation we could possibly have moving forward .
“I’ll be honest, Miss Lane. I don’t respect women who sell themselves for money.” Anders looks from me to Mick. “And I despise cheaters. My advice? Shut down your little club. Hire a bodyguard. It’s probably some overzealous wife sending the letters who found out her husband is fucking someone on the side at your establishment . As for the murders, the evidence isn’t enough to convince me it has anything to do with your club.” He sits back and crosses his arms over his chest as he glares at everyone.
Fury floods my veins, and before anyone can say anything, I snap, “I won’t be bullied into closing Désirer. The opinions of people like you don’t mean shit to me.”
“People like me ? I’m sorry, you mean people with morals?” His lips turn up in a smirk that drives my rage. I want to reach across the table and slap it off his face.
Even worse, I want to make a comment about the lack of morals he had last night when he took me back to his hotel and fucked me after knowing me for all of five minutes. “I mean arrogant jackasses who think they’re better than everyone else. You’re telling me that you’ve never taken a woman you didn’t know to your bed, Detective Brooks? Do you do a full background check on every woman you fuck?”
He noticeably bristles. “I’m not usually in the business of taking home random women, Miss Lane. ”
You little fucking liar.
“But thank you for the suggestion. When I do, from now on, I’ll make sure to be a little more selective about my options.”
“With that stick up your ass, good luck.”
“At least I’m not a walking STD.”
The absolute fucking audacity of this asshole. “Put your fucking chihuahua on a leash, Westin, before I muzzle him.”
Anders smirks, looking like he’s enjoying our banter as much as it’s pissing me off. “I’m more of a Doberman.”
Letting out a harsh laugh, I stand from the table. “No, you’re a fucking yappy ankle-biter who's about to get a Louboutin to the face.”
“Calm down, Mellie,” Mick says gently, pulling me back down by my sleeve. The endearment wipes the smirk off Anders’ face as he hones in on how Mick doesn’t let me go once I’m seated again. “Clearly, we made a mistake in hiring you. I’ll arrange for you to return to California on the next flight from JFK. Thanks for your time.”
“More like a fucking waste of time,” I mumble.
“Mick, I’ll get a list of guys together for you to review tomorrow. In the meantime, Miss Lane, maybe hiring a bodyguard isn’t such a bad idea,” Larry offers.
“That’s what Luca is for,” I respond to Mick.
“Luca Morroni has every reason to want you gone. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re still employing him and his men,” Larry responds, even though I clearly wasn’t talking to him.
“That’s the second time you’ve said Morroni. What’s he got to do with this?” Anders inquires, like he didn’t just turn down the job.
Paul sighs. “Vinny Morroni is one of the heads of the Italian Mafia. He was a partner with Mick and Miss Lane until he wasn’t. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him to be the one behind all this. Luca’s his son. He knows all the ins and outs of the club.”
“I trust Luca.” And I do. He’s worked security for me for years. If anyone is really trying to hurt me, it sure as hell isn’t him.
“You’re blind when it comes to him, Mellie. Maybe we should let him and his men go for now, just until this all settles down,” Mick murmurs.
Of course Mick doesn’t like Luca. He knows I’ve slept with him on more than one occasion. My voice is firm as I tell him, “No.”
Speaking for the first time since we walked into the room, Martin and Nikolai look at each other before raising their hands. “We’re actually here to help protect Miss Lane. We planned on going to the club tonight to check the place out. Our job is to remain hidden at all times, but keep our eyes on you,” Nikolai explains.
“You’re babies. How are you going to keep her safe?” It’s Anders who asks, surprising me that the question didn’t come from Mick.
“We’re older than we look.” Martin grins at Nikolai. They're like yin and yang. Where Martin’s skin is dark as night, Nikolai’s is white as snow. Martin has hair shorn close to his head, bleached a shocking shade of silver, and Nikolai’s long raven locks are pulled up in a bun on top of his head. They share a look, something passing between them that I recognize immediately as an intimacy that comes with love and trust. I decide right then that I’m going to like these guys.
“We aren’t traditional bodyguards. You can think of us as silent assassins. If we see someone target you, they’ll never see us coming,” Nikolai states as he looks at me with a slight bow of his head.
“Who do you work for?” Anders demands.
Martin’s voice carries a deadly lilt as he turns to look at him. “Ourselves. You seem pretty interested for someone who just insulted a woman and spat her job in her face. Trust me, you won’t do it again.”
He shifts, and Anders’ eyes fall to Martin’s lap. I can only imagine what he sees, the table blocks my view, but he raises a brow and nods his head. All eyes are on him as he looks at Paul and then Mick. “I’ll do it.”
I don’t know what makes him change his mind, but it fuels my anger to know that this complete and utter jackass is going to be in my personal space now. Last night, I was eager for another encounter with him as soon as I stepped out of his hotel room. Now, I’d rather take my chances with the murderer.
“Don’t worry about it, we’ll find someone else,” I snap.
“Now, now, Mellie. The detective comes highly recommended. We don’t want to waste any more time searching for someone else,” Mick soothes.
He pulls contracts from his briefcase, sliding them across the table to the three men. Larry, Paul, and Captain Krowder stand and make small talk about logistics with Mick. I watch as Anders takes in every single word of the papers he’s signing with complete efficiency.
“There’s a show tonight at the club. We put one on monthly. It’s basically an…open invitation for those who wish to watch or be watched. The rest of the club isn’t nearly as busy, so it’s a good opportunity to familiarize yourself with the place,” I explain.
I hate that I notice the way Anders’ pen freezes over the paper when I say open invitation . I hate that he’s a judgmental prick. I hate that he took the job.
And I hate that despite all those things, I still want to ride his fucking handsome face.
Martin and Nikolai get the address and disappear. Captain Krowder disappears to who knows where. Mick asks if I’ll be alright without him, before going with Paul and Larry to Paul’s office to discuss things that have more to do with politics than the club, leaving Anders and me in the meeting room.
Not wanting to have the inevitable conversation we’re bound to have, I scoot the chair back and rise to leave. However, his chuckle keeps my feet rooted as soon as I turn my back. “I knew you were too good to be true.”
Sighing, I spin around. “And I knew you were just a cocky asshole with an average dick and something to prove.”
His eyes darken as he stands, stalking toward me in a way that sets my senses on fire as quickly as lighting a match. “There’s nothing average about my dick, and you know that, Mellie .”
“ Don’t call me that,” I snap, putting my hands on my hips.
“Why not?” He stops when the toes of his shiny new Oxfords touch the black pointed toes of my stilettos. “Is that nickname reserved for the senator? Are you his mistress?”
Suddenly, my palm stings and shock shines in his eyes. I don’t even remember moving my hand. My reaction is as good as an admission. “How dare you.”
Anders walks forward, forcing me backward until I feel the cool glass wall of the meeting room at my back. “Did you just strike a member of law enforcement?” he asks. His breath smells like spearmint gum as it fans over my face.
“What are you going to do about it, smooth guy? Handcuff me?” I don’t mean for my words to sound playful, but they do. Anders’ eyes drift down to my lips, and I can see the memories of last night play out in them as he leans forward.
My breathing grows shallow, chest heaving against his as a few locks of his hair brush against my forehead. “I wouldn’t touch your tainted flesh again, even if you paid me,” he whispers the words the way a lover would tell you he loves you in the throes of passion.
My palm twitches to strike him again, but instead, I push him away roughly and turn to leave. “Fuck you, Anders.”
He laughs. “You already did, Mellie. Don’t let your senator find out.”