Page 71 of Any Means Necessary

Back to business.

“As I’ll ever be.”

***

Just one more hour.

It’s still pretty early, but I’m ready to call it a night. I usually love a good party. But, considering the only person I know here has been actively ignoring me to work the room, I’ve resigned myself to a stool at the bar while sipping a cosmopolitan. I spent the first two and a half hours at Callum’s side, but I got tired of playing the silent observer. Not to mention my feet are killing me in these new heels. I know better than to wear them straight out of the box, but they were just too pretty to resist.

The only good part about following Callum around like a shadow was being able to listen to him talk to the Manicis when they think no one can hear them. I’ve learned a lot about Callum’s past with the mafia tonight.

Frederico Manici is the head of the syndicate here in Chicago, I heard Callum refer to him as the Don. He bought this hotel to launder money, as well as what he calls “streamline supply and demand” which I think either refers to sex work or drug distribution. Possibly both.

Callum’s worked with the Family a long time hiding their indiscretions, and he’s here to make sure the big wigs in attendance don’t try to mess with the hotel opening. Apparently the types of people who accept bribes to cut corners are also the type you can expect to get greedy when they see the opportunity.

It’s a good thing Callum knows how to tame the vultures to keep them from circling.

Matteo owns this hotel with his Father, keeping everything above board running smoothly. I’m not really sure what to make of him.

As if my thoughts conjured him, the man himself appears at the bar beside me.

“It’s not a good look for our guests to go thirsty.” Matteo indicates the emptied cosmopolitan glass in front of me. He waves to the bartender. “Let’s get the lovely lady a fresh drink.”

“Thank you.” I accept the new glass and take a sip, holding his gaze boldly. He’s not subtle when he gives me an evaluating look, scanning me from head to toe. I’m not surprised when he gives my tits a second look.

“I can’t decide what I like more, this dress or your pink scrubs.” What Matteo lacks in height, he makes up for in confidence and authority. Looking at the Rolex on his wrist and the air around him that screams untouchable, he’s someone important in Callum's world. It makes sense if his dad is the head of the Chicago Outfit.

“The scrubs are more comfortable, but things tend to get more violent when I’m wearing them.” He smiles, flashing a row of pearly white teeth that reminds me of a shark. Something about his toothy smile says predator.

“Sounds very thoughtful to me. We wouldn’t want our pretty nurse to feel left out.” It’s my turn to laugh.

“Oh yeah, very thoughtful. I would hate for my skills to go to waste.” It’s a joke, but something I say has Matteo’s eyes roaming over me again. I feel like I’m being eyed by a wild animal, one that might snap at any moment—one wrong move and I’m dead. So I stay still, forcing my body to remain calm and relaxed.

“Something tells me you have skills I need to see in action for myself.” Matteo’s demeanor shifts, and just like that—I know we’re not talking about my medical training anymore. Our flirtation has taken a turn, and now he’s propositioning me.

Alarm bells start going off in my head, and my instinct is to recoil. But rejecting him isn’t an option here. This man isn’t someone you say no to without losing something very important to you—like a hand or someone you love.

Shit, what do I say?

Taking a small sip of my drink, I casually glance around to give myself a second to think. Maybe someone will come to my rescue. But the only eyes I seem to catch are Callum’s, and he’s glaring at me from across the room. He looks pissed, for whatever reason, so he’ll be no help. I’m on my own here, I guess.

“Maybe someday you will,” I say vaguely. “But I’m sure a man like you is too good at what he does to need my skills.”

Matteo looks over his shoulder to make sure no one is paying attention before leaning closer. That one action tells me he’s the type of guy who fucks fat girls in private, but he’s ashamed to be seen with them in public. I don’t mess with shitty guys like that.

“Perhaps I’ll see you later for a private demonstration. I’ve always been good at handling large assets,” he says. A couple is approaching to speak with him so he flashes those pearly whites at me one last time before stepping away.

The breath of relief that leaves me once I’m alone again isn’t long lived. I feel like I just survived a close encounter with a shark, but unfortunately I don’t get the chance to finish my drink before a dominating presence is over my shoulder.

“We’re leaving,” Callum asserts, making me look up at him in confusion.

“Aren’t you working?”

“I have it handled. Let’s go.” There’s a commanding edge in his voice as he helps me down from the stool. He’s pissed, his expression thunderous as he pulls me through the crowds toward the elevator. I pretend not to notice his mood, playing it cool when he drags me by the arm into our suite. He’s lost his damn mind if he thinks he can get what he wants just by manhandling me. If he wants something from me, he can talk about it like a normal person.

I stop just inside the door that’s slammed shut and deadbolted behind us.

He’s right behind me, crowding me. His broad chest is practically pressing to my back, and I can all but feel his eyes staring a hole through the top of my head. “Can I help you?” I ask, unbothered as I look through my purse for my lip balm.

---