Chapter 6
CASSANDRA
“You offer your girlfriend up to me on your behalf? You spineless fucking coward.”
My mind reels at the scene before me. A man the size of a damn house is blocking the back exit. Danny and Teresa are cowering in the corner. Claudio is on the floor, half-undressed, clutching his disfigured hand to his chest.
And Rocco…
Any doubts I had about Mia’s claims vanished at the sight of the man before me. Gone was the charming billionaire that I drank whiskey with earlier.
This man was murder incarnate. There is nothing else behind those gray eyes as he looms over Claudio as if he is calculating the most excruciating way for him to meet God.
I know at that moment, I should have taken the opportunity to run. I should have run before my fear had a chance to catch me in a chokehold. I’m frozen with terror, afraid to move or speak.
“You demanded satisfaction. She is my peace offering,” Claudio half-grunts.
“You do not speak for her.” Rocco’s voice is like ice slicing across my skin.
Something must have happened. Claudio must have gotten himself in trouble with the mob, and now Rocco has come to collect what he’s due.
I want to scream at Claudio for being such an idiot, for even thinking he was smart enough to outwit someone as dangerous as a powerful man in the Italian mafia. A thousand questions bubble up within me, but sheer terror keeps them all down.
“Ask her then,” Claudio cries. “She’ll do it, won’t you, darling? She loves me.”
It takes an embarrassing amount of time for the pieces to come together. Take her for the night, he’d said.
He wants me to sleep with Rocco to atone for whatever he’s done.
Are you fucking kidding me?
That too-long dormant flame of anger within me roars to life, spreading through my body and burning through the numbness that had taken its place. For the first time in what feels like months, years even, I feel true anger.
Deep, wounding, unchecked anger.
And it feels so damn good.
“She won’t do shit for you,” Rocco growls, taking the words right out of my mouth.
I want to destroy Claudio. Completely and thoroughly, for taking an innocent girl from her hometown, for seducing her with promises of fame and fortune, for belittling her, gaslighting her, and stealing from her from the moment she arrived.
My embarrassment is nothing compared to the rage roaring joyously through my veins.
“What would happen, do you think? If you broke up with him?”
Mia’s voice of reason grounds me. I need to be smart about this, or else I risk losing everything. Which is a surprising consideration when you have nothing to begin with.
“I’ll do it,” I say before I can talk myself out of it.
Everyone freezes and turns to me.
“Have some self-respect,” Teresa mutters.
But I ignore her, staring only at Rocco, registering the confusion that flashes across his expression as he shakes his head. “No,” he says, his voice quiet, almost pleading. I don’t take the time to ponder why he sounds like that. I’m too angry.
I put my chin in the air. “I’ll do it.”
“See? She’s fine with it,” Claudio says from the floor.
Rocco kicks him, and I try my best to keep my face neutral. But I can’t hide from Rocco. His eyebrows raise slightly at the sight of my concealed glee.
Please. I have a plan. Please. Trust me, I try to beg with my eyes.
He doesn’t owe me anything, so there’s no reason for him to agree to this. I have nothing to offer him beyond my gratitude. We might have flirted earlier, but we don’t know each other. And he might well be the most dangerous person I’ve ever met.
It says something about my current situation that I am eagerly considering someone from the mafia to be my best hope of salvation.
“Are you sure?” he asks me softly.
Relief washes through me as I nod.
Claudio exhales when Rocco steps away from him. Not breaking eye contact with me, Rocco steps forward and holds out his hand.
To pull me out of a mess of my own creation.
When our hands touch, it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. The fire brimming within me cries out to his. Like calling to like.
“You will not lay a hand on another woman. Do you understand me?” He’s addressing Claudio, but he holds my stare like it’s somehow tethering us together.
“Crystal clear.”
Vaguely, I’m aware of Claudio keening in agony as Rocco leads me from the room. But it’s hard to concentrate on anything beyond the man before me as we pass the giant man at the back entrance and walk down the sterile corridor.
After a moment, Rocco pushes open another door, and we find ourselves in an identical room to the one we were in before. Only this time, we are entirely alone.
“Despite what I might have implied earlier, I am not in the mood to fuck you tonight, Angioletta.”
I snatch my hand from him, moving as far away from him as I can to prove my next words. “I only wanted an audience with you. I swear.”
He looks at me incredulously, and I realize just how much he was masking over drinks. There is little kindness in his eyes anymore, and violence seems to simmer under his skin to be called upon at his leisure.
He’s a predator through and through, assessing me with sharp instinct to determine the kind of threat I might pose to him.
No, I’m not a threat to him. I’m his prey.
“You have about thirty seconds to explain before I go back in there and toss Lazzaro out the window.”
I swallow and take a second to steady my racing heart. “Are you a part of the Italian Mafia?”
He blinks at me in surprise before that crooked grin spreads across his face. It still makes my stomach flip despite the danger so evident in his eyes.
“Oh, Miss Cassandra. I am the Italian Mafia.”
The terror his words evoke is enough to silence me for another moment.
Mia is going to fucking kill me.
I swallow my pride anyway. “I need your help.”
“Didn’t your father ever warn you about making deals with the devil?”
His words sting more than he can ever know, and I have to look away so he doesn’t see the tears pricking my eyes.
“Please. I don’t know what Claudio did to you to deserve all this, but if you want to bring him to justice…I think we can help each other.”
Rocco tilts his head with unnerving speed. “You want us to work together?”
“I have nothing to offer you,” I explain quickly. “I came to Brooklyn on Claudio’s word and live with him at his discretion. I’m under contract to perform at the Candelabra until my dying breath, and if I try to leave him, he’ll…”
My voice snags at the words, but I can see that Rocco understands, probably already knows by the way he glances down at my arms, concealed once more by my father’s leather jacket.
“I need a way out,” I declare, sounding more confident than I feel.
Rocco takes a casual step forward. “And you think losing you would be a good enough punishment for everything he’s done?”
I meet his eyes with determination. “No. But it’s a start.”
Something akin to feral delight falls across Rocco’s face. “You know, there are some things that fall outside my remit.”
“Make an exception for me,” I push, but stagger back into the wall as Rocco continues his approach.
“Now, why would I do that?”
The wall at my back feels like the only thing holding me up. “What do you want from me?”
His eyes slowly drop all the way to my feet and rise up again. When they return to my face, they are somehow darker. “Many things. But I am not in the business of coercion, Miss Cassandra. I want my women to want me so I can make them beg for it.”
My mouth goes dry.
I had planned for him to demand money, or a favor I would be scared to grant. But his suggestion makes me think there might be something else I’d be more than willing to give.
“And if I did?”
“What?”
“Want you.”
One moment, he’s standing before me, the next, he’s pinning me against the wall by the neck. His long, tattooed fingers grab my chin and force me to look up at him.
“Don’t tempt me, Angioletta.”
We’re too close. Breathing hard against each other like this is almost unbearable.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” he whispers across my skin, and my eyes almost roll back into my head. “Because you are not a currency that I exchange in, as mouthwatering as you are.”
His leg brushes up against mine, his bare forearm rubs against my neck, his damn fingers are so close to my lips.
I should be terrified, sobbing, pleading with this man. This is a man who is more than capable of leaning down on my windpipe and suffocating me right now. I’m completely at his mercy, and yet my traitorous body only aches with desire.
The idea should appall me. I should feel shame as my sex throbs between my legs. But even if fucking him won’t win me my freedom, I’m a slave to my carnal impulses. It’s almost as if the entire world is fading away around me.
All that matters is the man pressing into me.
“Please,” I whisper back. “I just want your help.”
His gray eyes dart to my lips and I can feel his heart race in his chest. Is he as affected as I am? Does he feel the electricity buzzing beneath my skin?
“And I’m prepared to give it,” his voice rumbles, “but I will not indulge in this little fantasy of yours just because you think you owe me something.”
I should be relieved, but I’m not. I should thank him and walk away now. He’s agreed to what I wanted. But this isn’t some little fantasy; this is pure, unfiltered desperation. I don’t just want him to touch me. I need him to.
And despite his own words, he doesn’t move.
He just stares as if he is transfixed by my lips. A war seems to rage within him. His breathing is jagged as if he’s physically trying to hold himself back.
In a small, logical part of my mind, I realize why. He sees me as vulnerable—someone who needs his help. Giving in would be to take advantage of me.
But this has nothing to do with what he can do for me and everything to do with my near-feral need for release.
With a sudden surge of confidence, I drag my tongue across my bottom lip.
“Would you like me to beg?” I whisper as flames seem to erupt in his eyes.
He growls out his restraint, and I realize something with terrifying clarity.