Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Harper
It's safe to say, I don't belong in this room.
The Blake Foundation's charity gala is on the rooftop of The Montclair. A Beverly Hills hotel that charges more per night than my monthly rent. White roses cascade from iron archways. The whole city of Los Angeles sprawls below.
My cowgirl heart isn't meant for billionaires in the city, or drinking champagne in thousand-dollar dresses. Yet, here I am in a twenty-dollar dress from the mall. Hudson laces his fingers through mine and leads me toward the bar.
"You're quiet, Harper," he whispers, ordering two drinks. Both champagne.
"Can I have a whiskey, please?" I cut in, looking at the bartender.
Hudson pulls his hand from mine. I feel him studying the side of my head. "That's a strong drink for the start of the evening."
I fake a smile and turn to him. "I assumed you wouldn't want your fake girlfriend for the night holding a bottle of beer?"
A smirk tugs at his lips. "You've read the room already, I see."
I nod as the bartender slides my whiskey across the bar.
"Are you nervous?" Hudson asks, leaning in. His cologne is dark and woody. I have to admit, Hudson in a tux is easy on the eyes. I can see why people fall for him. But I don't enjoy my boss being this close to me. I clear my throat, taking a small sip of whiskey.
It's shit. New Falls has much better.
"Not really. I'm not the one lying here. Are you nervous?" I ask.
He straightens his tie as he pulls back, plastering on his perfect corporate smile and says, "No."
"Good."
I turn around, resting my back on the bar, and scan the room.
A string quartet plays near the rose arch.
Waitstaff glide between clusters of guests carrying silver trays of food.
A tech CEO I recognize from a fraud investigation is standing too close to a woman who isn't his wife.
A former governor nurses a scotch near the ice sculpture.
"So, who is who?" I ask, my attempt to kill some time and be nosey.
He mirrors my position, crossing one leg over the other.
"Well, that over there is Lady Preston and her, I believe, seventh husband."
My eyes go wide. "This sounds like a story to report on."
My brain is already spinning, seven husbands, I wonder if there are any suspicious circumstances, a financial trail…
"No. No story. She just divorces and marries richer."
I nod. Clever woman. Could make quite the psychological thriller book plot though.
And then I see her.
She's standing alone at the far end of the terrace, and that's the first thing that registers, in a room built for networking and preening, this woman came to observe. To be seen only on her own terms.
Jet black hair that falls down her back. A deep red dress. Elegant, yet sexy. It’s floor-length with a slit up one thigh, revealing skin covered in ink. Tattoos climb both arms in intricate sleeves scaling along her collarbones, disappearing beneath the neckline.
She doesn't fit in here either. But she also, somehow, does.
More than anyone. Because everyone else in this room is performing wealth, while this woman is performing power.
Her dark eyes lock onto mine, and the contact is immediate.
Then her gaze drifts to Hudson, and her jaw tightens and chin lifts.
She looks two seconds away from throwing a dagger at his head.
"Gianna Milano," Hudson whispers.
The name detonates in my brain.
"As in, daughter of Vito Milano?" I say under my breath.
He clears his throat. "Yep."
Vito Milano. Head of the Milano family. The most powerful Italian crime syndicate on the West Coast. Connected to the recent territory wars with the Greek mafia.
The ones I was investigating with their links in New Falls and Ace’s family.
They are savages from what I can see. And more so, probably now, after her brother, Max, was killed in the shootout recently.
Great. The Italian mafia is here. And she's walking toward us.
Hudson stands straight and grabs my hand, tugging me against his side.
His arm slips around my waist, and I freeze.
Watching every step she takes. Commanding the room with a lethal stare.
People part for her without being asked.
Conversations dip to murmurs. A waiter changes direction mid-stride to avoid crossing her path.
My heart is racing as she stops in front of us.
"Hudson," she greets him. Her hand comes up and runs along his chest, straightening a lapel that doesn't need straightening. She leans up and whispers in his ear, and I watch his jaw go tight.
Then she pulls back and looks at me.
"I'm Gianna," she says with a smile, her Italian accent beautiful and unhidden. She holds out her hand.
I take it. Her grip is firm. Her array of rings press cold against my fingers. "I'm Harper."
"Pleasure to meet you. Hudson's…" She pauses. "Girlfriend?"
"Uh. Yeah," I say quickly.
Hudson shifts beside me. "Would you like a drink, Gianna?"
She shakes her head, holding up her hand. "No, thank you. I have to keep my eyes open and my brain clear."
He nods. There's deference in it. Hudson Blake defers to nobody in his own building. But in front of Gianna Milano, he knows exactly where he falls in the food chain.
She glances down at my whiskey, and her whole face changes. It actually brightens, which is not something I’d expect from a mafia princess. "Ah. A real fucking drink. Isn't it ridiculous how here they just assume women have to drink champagne? Like we can't handle anything stronger."
I burst into laughter. Too loud for this room. Several heads turn. I don't care. Hudson asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend, not pretend to be a new woman entirely.
"Right? Women must have cute little fruit and cocktail umbrellas in their drinks."
She laughs. "The truth is, I bet we could out-drink most of these bastards."
"I grew up on a ranch full of cowboys. I can handle most things."
She takes a step closer to me. "Okay. I love that. Did you have your own horse? I'd love to learn to ride."
I smile, and the memory rises before I can stop it. Penny. Chestnut mare, white blaze, the sweetest temperament of any horse I've ever known. Ace bought her for my eighteenth birthday. He made me close my eyes as he led her out of the barn with a yellow ribbon around her neck.
I left Penny behind when I left Arizona, but I knew Ace would love that horse like his own.
"I mean, I can teach you, if you'd like," I offer.
Everyone should feel the freedom and pure joy that comes with riding a horse. This isn’t my smartest idea. She’s dangerous. But she might just be able to offer me insight I couldn’t get anywhere else in the world.
"I'd love that. And Arizona, you say? Where?"
I bite my lip. "A small town called New Falls. You probably haven't heard of it."
She frowns. "No. I haven't."
She opens her Chanel bag, pulls out her phone, and hands it to me. "Put your number in here. I'll text you. We should go for drinks. I'm here for business tonight, so I can't party. But I don’t get a chance to make friends very often."
Jesus Christ. The daughter of the most feared crime family in LA wants to be my friend. And I sure as hell can't say no to this. Maybe, if I dip a toe into this life with her, one day, I’ll be brave enough to call Ace.
I type in my number and hand it back to her.
"Lovely to meet you, Gianna," I say.
She glances at Hudson and then leans in closer to me. "Be careful of that man, Harper. I'll text you soon."
I keep my smile safely secured on my face, but I can feel the blood draining from my body.
She pivots back to my date like she didn’t just drop an ominous warning. "Hudson, I need to speak to you privately."
She turns to me. "Do you mind if I steal your man for five minutes?"
I shrug. He's not my man. She can have him. But if a mafia princess gives me a warning, then what skeletons is Hudon hiding?
"Sure."
She turns, motioning with one finger, and out of the shadows, a beast of a man appears by her side.
He doesn't say a word. Six-five, six-six, built from concrete, dark hair cropped close, jaw carved from stone.
His hands are clasped in front of him with the stillness of someone trained to wait and trained to act.
"This is Dom. My talkative younger brother. He will stay with you for a minute, okay?" Gianna asks, but it isn't a question.
My mouth drops open, and she places a hand on my shoulder. "Harper, you know who I am, don't you?"
I nod. "A little."
"Okay. So that little part you do know is much, much bigger in reality. Take the protection I offer; there are snakes in every room you walk into. Every woman has this battle every damn day."
I swallow. She's right. Predators are everywhere.
"Thank you," I whisper.
She nods, linking her arm through Hudson's.
"Um, don't you want to give your woman a kiss goodbye, Huds? Or is romance really this fucking dead?"
I put on my best smile, and Hudson leans in, pressing a dry kiss to my cheek.
I try not to cringe too hard. Gianna winks at me as she drags my boss across the room and through a side door marked Private.
I don't miss the fact that three very large men peel away from the corners of the room and follow behind them.
I turn to my new bodyguard. "Would you like a drink?" I ask, awkwardly.
He shakes his head, offering me a smile that cracks through that granite face.
"No, thank you. Let me get yours," he says, glancing at my half-empty glass.
I toss back the rest, and he chuckles. I can already tell laughter isn't something Dom does often.
Hudson comes back twelve minutes later looking like someone rearranged his internal organs. He takes my hand, way tighter than before, reaches for his champagne, and drains half of it.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
"Fine."
Dom gives me one last nod, then disappears into the crowd, returning to Gianna.