Page 11 of King of the Bronx

“I’ll walk you home,” he said.

I started shaking my head. “You don’t—”

“It wasn’t a question.”

I was taken back by his bluntness. “I’ll be fine—”

He turned and started walking away from me. I had to jog to keep up.

“Hey, I was talking to you,” I snapped. I was grateful that he’d stepped in when he did, but I couldn’t show him where I lived.

“Left or right?” he asked as we came to a crosswalk.

“Are you listening to me?”

“I can get on the phone and find out everything about you in a matter of seconds. If you don’t tell where you live so I can make sure you get home safety, I’ll figure it out.”

I searched his eyes, looking to see if he was bluffing. Part of being a good card-counter was being able to read people. There was no waver in his expression. He was telling the truth. I didn’t know who Enzo really was, but I was starting to get the feeling he was a more powerful man than I’d thought.

“Right.” I swallowed the lump in my throat.

I walked next him in the direction of the brothel. At least this way, he wouldn’t know my home address. He couldn’t catch me while I was sleeping. We walked the entire way in silence. Masculine, dangerous energy surrounded us. It was rolling off of him in waves. I just had to be careful not to get swept up in it. No one had ever saved me; not one person had ever stuck up for me like Enzo had.

When I stopped in front of the building, he raised an eyebrow. “No way.”

“What?” I asked, looking around like I was missing something.

“There’s no way you’re a prostitute,” he said matter-of-factly. Of course he would know that this wasn’t a regular house. Did this man know all the shady businesses in New York?

I smiled at him. “And why not?”

He scoffed and ran a hand over his smooth jawline. “I know prostitutes, and you aren’t one.”

Does that mean he paid for prostitutes? I couldn’t imagine a man that looked like him needing to pay money for someone to have sex with him. I thought about lying. Maybe that would get him to leave me alone.

“I own the brothel,” I said, the truth slipping from my lips.

His eyes widened in surprised, and he crossed his arms over his chest before a mischievous look crossed his face. “You own a brothel?”

“Yes. Is there something wrong with that?” I waited for him to laugh in my face.

“No, it’s actually pretty impressive.”

We stared at each other for a moment. I wasn’t sure what to say. That’s the last thing I expected to come out of his mouth. Most people looked down on my business. No one really knew how hard it was to run a brothel, especially as a woman.

“I should probably go inside,” I said, breaking the tension.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Raven.”

He nodded. “I’ll see you around, Raven.”

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