Chapter 10
GINA
Silvio makes quick work of walking me back through the casino. A few of the women on staff look at me and whisper to each other as we pass.
I have no idea what they’re saying, but I bet they suspect I’m Dante’s new wife.
Silvio leads me into the elevator and presses the level above. When we get out, the vibe is calm.
It’s too early for the club to open to the public.
It’s not even evening yet, just late afternoon. But I see staff checking the bar and preparing the lounge.
Silvio leads me through a labyrinth of gleaming tables toward a hallway of what looks to be offices.
He stops at the very end and knocks.
“Dante? I have something for you,” he says, flinging the door open.
Dante is sitting at his desk. Leaning over it is a beautiful woman with long black hair.
I feel a surge of jealousy so hot it stings.
She straightens up immediately, smoothing her skirt as she eyes my long, dark wig.
“Gina. Why are you here?” Dante demands.
“I... I was at home, and Uncle Silvio stopped by,” I stammer. “He asked if he could take me to see the casino.”
Dante looks at Silvio, his expression unreadable. Silvio just smiles.
“I enjoyed meeting your new wife, Dante. I wanted to get to know her better.”
Dante gives the woman a quick nod. A dismissal.
She leaves without a word. Silvio follows her, giving me a final, patronizing squeeze on my shoulder.
When the door clicks shut, I’m left standing in front of my husband like a child in front of the principal.
Dante doesn’t move from behind his desk.
“What the fuck are you wearing?”
I lift my fingers to the wig, having almost forgotten about it.
“Angie and I passed by a salon, and I just had a whim. Wanted to see how the other half lives with dark hair.”
My attempt at humor dies under his gaze.
He stands and walks toward me. The look in his eyes is similar to when he came at me with the silver scissors. But darker, if that’s even possible.
I take a step back. The wall meets my shoulder blades.
“I... I thought you would like it,” I say, my voice faltering. “We were shopping and—”
“Quiet.”
Dante stops a foot in front of me. His pupils jet black. His jaw locked tight.
His eyes skim me from my wig to the too-short dress, and over the bare stretch of my thighs.
My nipples tighten under the thin fabric, and his eyes catch the movement.
“Hands at your sides.”
I drop them.
“Eyes on me.”
I lift them.
He braces one palm flat against the wall above my shoulder. Then he leans down, and lets the back of one knuckle drag slowly from the line of my jaw down the side of my throat.
Just the knuckle. Nothing else.
My pulse jumps under his hand.
“You’ve been my wife less than 24 hours and you dare walk into my club looking like you’re trying to get laid.”
“I wasn’t trying to—”
“You think I don’t know what this dress is? What it does to a man?”
His knuckle moves lazily down to my collarbone.
“Every man on the casino floor must have seen what you came in wearing. Every soldier I employ. Every cocktail girl. Tell me, Mrs. Ricci. Did you enjoy that?”
“No—”
“Look me in the eye and say it.”
I look at him. “No, Dante.”
He studies my face.
His hand opens against my collarbone. The flat of his palm is hot through the thin dress.
Then he drags it down until his fingers spread wide just above my low-cut neckline.
“Trash that wig. I never want to see it again.”
“Yes, Dante.”
“Good girl.”
The words go through me like they did on the wedding night, hot and low and sharp.
My thighs press together before I can stop them.
He sees it.
His other hand comes off the wall and slides around my hip to the small of my back.
And lower.
He cups the curve of my ass and pulls me hard against him.
I feel the full length of him through his suit trousers.
“Dante—”
“What do you want, wife?”
“I want—”
“Say it.”
“I want you,” I whisper. I can’t bring myself to choke out I want you to love me.
His grip on my ass tightens hard enough to hurt. His other hand slides off my chest and finds the hem of the dress.
He pushes it up. Not all the way, just enough that the cool air of the office hits the skin of my upper thigh.
His fingers dig in there, the calloused pads of them pressing into my bare flesh.
I can hear myself breathing. Fast and shallow. My hands have come up to grip his lapels without my permission.
“You’re acting like a woman who wants to be fucked,” he says, piercing me again with those cold black eyes.
I’m breathing too hard and fast to speak.
And even if I could, what’s the right answer? Admit the truth and have him call me a whore?
“I bet you want me to take you right here on my desk. Begging to be fucked while my soldiers count cash one floor down.”
His fingers slide higher under the hem. The back of his knuckles brush the silk between my thighs.
I’m soaked through. He must feel it.
Then his hand pulls slowly back out from under the hem. He smooths the dress down over my thigh and steps away.
He turns and walks back to his desk and picks up his phone.
“Thomas. My office. Now.”
He sets the phone down.
I’m still against the wall.
The hem of my dress is still warm where his hand had been. My clit’s already twitching.
A moment later, a man knocks at the door and Dante grants him admission.
“Yes, boss?” the man says, entering. I quickly regain control as I look at him.
He’s a few years older than me, maybe mid-twenties, the clean-cut type in a well-fitting suit.
He has a cowlick on the back of his head that gives him a boyish demeanor. It feels out of place in this den of sharks.
“Please take Mrs. Ricci home. To the penthouse,” Dante commands, already moving on to the next task.
“Got it, boss.”
“Gina, this is Thomas. He’ll drive you home. I’ll see you tonight.”
I nod and follow Thomas out. As we pass through the lounge, I see the staff looking at me, whispering behind their hands.
One girl smirks as she catches my eye.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Ricci,” she says. The other girls cackle.
I don’t bother to answer.
I’m just glad when the heavy doors open and fresh air hits my face.
The wig suddenly feels unbearable. Heavy. Itching at my temples. I’d tear it off, pins and all, except that Thomas would witness it.
I’d been so sure. So sure that this wig was the voodoo magic that would make Dante love me.
That if I looked enough like Mary, he’d finally “see me.” Right. Dante saw me all right. He looked at me and was disgusted.
The plan I’d built my whole hope on was gone in thirty seconds.
“The car’s this way,” Thomas says, indicating a long black limousine exactly like Silvio’s.
I hope these guys get a volume deal on those things.
“After you,” he says, opening the door for me.
As he starts the engine and pulls onto the street, I notice a small, sleek building across from the club.
Black and modern, matching the exterior of Dante’s club.
The lights inside are blazing. I can see a ladder centered in what looks like a professional kitchen. It’s as if the electricians dropped their tools and walked away mid-project.
“Is that a new restaurant going up, Thomas?”
He laughs. “If you’re hungry, Mrs. Ricci, you’re going to have to wait a while. It was suddenly abandoned. As you can see, the interior is only half-finished.”
“Yes,” I murmur, feeling a bit of relief from the tension of the casino experience in Thomas’ laughter.
On impulse, I snap a picture of the restaurant and the 'for sale' sign in front of it.
“Something about it reminds me of my friend Alice’s restaurant from when I was a kid. Her family built it over the summer. Alice and I had so much fun riding our bicycles over every day to watch the progress. We felt like we were the owners ourselves.”
Thomas smiles. “Kids. I was like that when I was a boy, too. Thought I’d grow up to have my own baseball team. And look at me now.”
We laugh together this time, and the tension from Silvio’s office and Dante’s dismissal finally bleeds away.
Almost.
While I make small talk with Thomas, my body still hums where Dante’s hand touched my flesh.
I shift in the leather seat as I remember Dante’s breath hot against my ear. The rock-hard outline of his erection through his sleek silk trousers.
“You want to be a restaurateur?” Thomas asks.
I shrug, pulling my mind back.
“Hadn’t thought about it before now.” I look down at the glowing kitchen in the photo on my phone. “But it’s a hard business. I know that.”
“Well, then. There you go.”
He pulls up in front of The Circle Towers and opens my door.
“You okay getting up by yourself?”
“Of course. The lobby’s right there.” I wave to the concierge I met the first night. “I’ll see you around, Thomas.”
“See you, Mrs. Ricci.”