Page 28 of Merciless Attraction

Antonio pulls the car to a stop as we pull up to the impound lot where my car is sitting among others, waiting for me to rescue it. Hopefully, no one from Verducci’s organization is watching us, but Antonio’s voice has a way of pulling me out of my head.

“Our relationship isn’t fake, Gemma, just the engagement is.” He looks me in the eyes with every word, and there’s no doubting his sincerity. Antonio’s not someone I can rid myself of, and I never thought this day would come.

He leans over the console where I meet him in the middle for a kiss. It’s a kiss that easily shifts into comfortable passion. The ease of how we slip into this bond shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. It even scares me a bit how fast I can fall for someone simply because of how well he knows my body. Toss is in our mutual trauma and it is comforting. I’m hopeful that when the chaos dies our relationship survives.

It shouldn’t be a foreign concept that he knows the body. What he’s done to mine is only a glimpse of what’s possible between us. Our tongues swirl effortlessly as his lips capture mine and nearly make me forget the events of the night.

“You can’t park here.” A voice calls from beyond the car, causing our kiss to end abruptly.

I take a deep breath and tell him. “It’s fine, Antonio. Pull the car up a little so we’re not blocking this driveway. I’m going to go stand in the line.”

Antonio looks like he wants to stop me from getting out of the car by myself, but he’s not going far, and neither am I. There are three people ahead of me and by the time I reach the window, the slimy asshole runs his tongue over his grimy teeth.

“What can I do for you, kitten?” I imagine his words spilling from his mouth like biohazardous gas.

“My car was towed here a while ago. California plates, silver Volvo—”

The man cuts me off. ”Aw, it’s a pity the shape that car’s in. Two flat tires and a broken rear window. I remember it clearly. That will be 550, kitten.”

I balk at the price. “What? FIVE hundred and fifty dollars? For what? How long has my car been here?”

“Well, kitten—”

“Stop calling me that,” I snarl. “Break it down slow.”

“I’m rounding down. There’s a 295-dollar administrative fee for the first time the car’s towed and 280 for the tow charge. Your first four hours are free, but if you wait until midnight, which is in about twenty minutes, you’ll be billed for the entire day tomorrow.”

“You’re a bunch of fucking crooks.” I shake my head and peer over my shoulder as Antonio comes into the lot.

“Such a dirty mouth. If you put it to better use on me, I might shave a hundred dollars off that bill,” the weasel replies, again with a disgusting swipe of his tongue over his teeth.

“That’s all it takes to get a discount these days?” Antonio asks from behind me. It doesn’t look like we’re together, but the guy behind the glass is too busy trying to get my lips around his dick to pay much attention.

“Fuck off, pretty boy before I makeyousuck my cock for free,” the guy sneers at Antonio.

“You want to come out here and see how that works for you?” Antonio challenges the guy and to my surprise the asshole behind the glass steps out of his protective box. The metal door separating the likes of this tow yard manager from the public is the only thing keeping this guy safe.

The man snaps out a baton once he takes in Antonio’s frame from head to toe. Antonio’s not just a pretty boy. Muscles bulge from under his collared shirt and the attendant charges Antonio with his baton flailing in the night.

Antonio dodges the first blow, uses his forearm to block the second, and catches the baton on the third swing. He snatches it from the attendant and throws it to the ground. Antonio doesn’t wait for his attacker to say anything before he punches him in the face. The fight isn’t nearly as long or as visceral as his fight against Frankie.

It takes a few blows and a strong grip to the attendant’s shoulder to make the guy cower in fear.

“Please,” the attendant begs. “I’m sorry.”

“You need to apologize to her,” Antonio says as he jerks the attendant to his knees.

“I’m sorry, Miss. I swear. I didn’t mean it.” His trembling voice doesn’t make me feel sorry for him. I imagine the number of women this asshole’s tormented to get their car out of the impound.

“I just want my car,” I tell Antonio, ignoring the attendant and his apology.

Antonio jerks him one more time for good measure and tosses him back onto the ground. The attendant scurries back into the booth and locks the door behind him. Antonio walks up to the window and pulls out his wallet.

“How much?” Antonio asks as if he didn’t just toss this man around like a dog with a bone.

“Five seventy-five.”

Antonio pulls out six one-hundred-dollar bills and places them under the slot in the glass. The attendant writes up a receipt and slides it under the glass. We step away from the booth with Antonio on the phone as my car is brought out on a flatbed. They put it on the street in a No Parking Zone, which means we have to move it before the morning.

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