Chapter 12 – Rae
It’s hot as all get out!
While the forced air pumped through the vents, the great and powerful boss thought it was a good idea to have a roaring blaze in the hearth. Did no one tell him it was summer? Who cared if it created a rustic ambiance! All these bodies packed in tight made it suffocating in here.
I plucked at the high collar of my uniform, wishing it was winter outside so I could roll around in the snow.
I wound my way through the crowd, praying they would take the rock-hard pieces of toast with crap spread on it so my empty tray and I could go back to the safety of the kitchen where the cool air would temporarily relieve the heat rash I felt forming across my skin.
Looking at the dozen artfully placed bites, I felt a twinge of guilt.
If Franky made it—which he had—they were bound to taste good.
Maybe no one would notice if I started scooting them off the edge.
Drop one or two in a planter. The leaves would hide them until later when I could scoop them out.
It would be a shame to waste them, but at this point, I was going to pass out from the heat.
Too focused on my personal discomfort, I didn’t notice my feet were taking me in a direct line to where I swore I wasn’t going. By the time my fried brain caught up to the action, there was no way to veer to the side and avoid the collision. Not without drawing attention to myself.
I was trapped between a group of portly men in suits, a bunch of women who reeked of expensive perfume, and him.
The devil I’d successfully avoided unprofessional contact with this past week.
As if he sensed my eyes on him, Dominico turned. That black gaze caught mine and held it. I tightened my unfeeling smile and inched forward. He broke away from the conversation he was having with a slimmer, but no less scary-looking, man.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, taking a few of the small bites from my tray.
“My pleasure, sir.”
Something flashed through those inky pools. His lips thinned at my formal tone. “I was wondering when you’d finally come this way. It almost seemed as if you were avoiding me.”
“Wouldn’t blame her,” the scary friend quipped. He stepped forward and helped himself to the bread slices. He slid the whole thing in his mouth. “Damn shame too. These are delicious.”
I bobbed my head. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to distribute the rest of these—”
“No need.” The scary man swiped the rest of the toasts. His fingers wore ink, but I didn’t miss the pale silver lines or the swollen bend to his knuckles. Unlike the polished, poised guests, this man was set apart in a dangerous way.
Exactly like Dominico.
But I didn’t feel the same current of electricity as he looked at me. No, there was one clear buzz zinging through my veins, and it came from the source to my left.
“You’re flushed, Rae,” Dominico murmured. “Are you feeling alright?”
I hated that the bastard noticed. Hated that he pointed it out.
No, you hate that he sounds like he cares.
I didn’t need his attention. Powerful men like him never truly cared.
That was one lesson I thankfully learned at a young age.
Men were all the same. Wanted the same thing.
And when they’d had their fill, they moved on.
Rich men were only slightly worse, because they had the resources to pretend they were better than the poor ones.
“I’m fine. Can I refresh your drinks, gentlemen?” I offered, shifting in the tight shoes. This pair was still liable to give me blisters even after wearing them for two weeks now.
“Rae,” Dominico cautioned.
“Drop it,” I snapped. “Drinks? Yes? No? Okay then. I’m going to get a fresh tray of crap.”
I escaped to the sound of masculine chuckles and the low voice of the scary friend, which I could only guess was ribbing the princeling. Since it was in Italian, I only had the sound to go off.
The whole way to the kitchen, I scolded myself.
I was just tired and cranky. And hot. That was no excuse to make myself miserable and do a bad job.
Despite the lunacy of this place, I was good at my work.
It paid well enough, and I needed the shelter and stability it provided.
So there was no good reason to do a bad job.
Even my uncle noticed my work ethic. He’d taken me aside one day earlier in the week and told me how proud he was of me.
It was surprisingly…nice.
“I just need to cool off,” I muttered.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw that the coast was clear.
I seized the opportunity and slipped into the sunroom.
The change in temperature was magnificent.
Dropping the tray on the side table with the ugly vase, I undid the top button of my collar.
There was no noise from the secret panel.
Not that I would have paused to listen if there was.
No, I made a beeline to the French doors, slipped the lock, and pushed one open.
The relief was instant.
The howl of the summer storm greeted me.
Its raging rush licked my face. I peeled off my gloves to embrace it, wishing I could slide the dress open easily.
In a few months, it would be cold outside.
I’d had quiet reservations about leaving the sun and heat of the South in exchange for the bitter, bleak winters.
It had never truly been a factor in the decision to come north.
The poverty that chased me out of town was enough to eclipse any feeble reason like the weather.
But it was nice to find that I enjoyed the change of seasons.
And I couldn’t wait to see snow.
Leaning against the edge of the door, I sighed.
The waxing-moon peeked through the heavy storm clouds for a brief moment.
It draped the paved ground and the patio furniture in a silken glow.
I’d watched it every night, feeling a kindred call to the familiar globe.
I never thought too deeply about the celestial object, but now that I was so far away from where I grew up—where I thought I would live and die—it was nice to have the familiar orb as a companion.
I stared up at it, letting my mind lull and my body come alive.
With each pass of the sun, it revealed itself.
If it was my friend, it was full of secrets.
The kind it could only share through feeling, not through thought.
The light was filled with a tangible, eerie longing that seemed to invade my heart.
By Monday, it would be golden and full, wholly unveiled in all its shimmering glory.
That realization decided me. I knew exactly what I was going to do on my day off.
The twist of the door jarred me from the existential moment. Reality slammed back into me with a brutal force. I jumped outside and softly closed the door behind me.
The shape in the doorway made me pause.
He hadn’t seen me.
Blending into the shadows, I watched the mafia prince hurry to the paneled fake outlet. A knife flicked in the gloom, and he twisted the screws free.
Dominico knew.
Of course he did. How was I not surprised?
That put me in an awkward position. I should have slipped around the house and hoped my sudden appearance in the kitchen wasn’t odd. But I couldn’t make myself move.
I lingered, transfixed by the sight of the beast of a man, lying on the floor with his ear pressed against the hole in the wall.
For a girl, I was tall. But Dominico was a giant compared to me.
Those long, thick muscles strained against his clothes.
My muscles pulsed at the idea of springing on him, straddling that thick trunk… tearing his clothes off.
The door inside swung open.
I gasped and covered my mouth. Not that they could hear me through the French doors.
Dominico pushed off the floor, leaned back on his haunches, and spoke. The words were muffled.
The man kicked the door closed and came at the prince.
He was quick.
Dominico didn’t have time to rise before the fucker was on him. Blows rained down on the mafia prince. Body shots. Something flickered in the dim light, and it took a second before my brain registered that they were brass knuckles.
“Get up! Get up!” I hissed.
It was like watching a car crash.
Dominico managed to kick out. It was a strong blow, but it glanced off the other man’s leg. And it cost Dominico his balance.
The man doubled his attack, twisting out of the mafia prince’s grasp. He was going to severely hurt Dominico if he hadn’t already.
My inner voice screamed at me to move. To fight! Dominico was getting his ass handed to him, and I just stood here.
Enough of this!
I ripped open the glass door and charged.
The noise made the other man recoil. I didn’t think about the repercussions or the fact that the stranger was twice my size. There was a precious second where I used every ounce of momentum to jab the motherfucker in the throat.
The assailant stumbled back, choking.
But I wasn’t done. I grabbed the closest object, hefted it with both hands, and sent it crashing on his head.
The vase shattered on impact. Pieces of the family heirloom burst over the floor in white and blue fragments.
The man toppled.
I seized the opportunity.
I kicked his head, over and over. He lifted his hands, blindly swatting me off, but I jumped around his touch. I struck as hard as I could. It would have been a thousand times better if I had my combat boots on, but I didn’t listen to the way my toes screamed.
I just kept kicking the ever-loving shit out of him—
Until his head snapped to the side.
The angle was all wrong. His body was still. The acrid stench of piss filled the air a moment later.
Before my brain could register what I’d done, hands fell on my shoulders. They were strong but gentle. The firm touch pushed me to the side. It happened so quickly. I raised my fists against the new attack, but it never came.
“Rae, it’s okay,” Dominico wheezed.
Those hands slid down my arms, trying to steady me against the chill seeping into my bones and making me shake.
Nico. I blinked. It was Dominico.
He wasn’t a threat.