Page 3 of Mabilia

Before she can answer, the sound of sirens blares through the walls and Mabilia zips her dress back up. “Fuck, someone called the cops?” Her eyes are wide.

“That happens when you beat the shit out of people in front of an audience.”

“She called me a whore. She deserved it.” Mabilia shrugs. “She’s lucky I let you pull me away.”

“Right, youlet me.” I chuckle, knowing full well she didn’tlet medo shit. “Come on. You need to get out of here.”

“They’re not going to arrest me.” She smirks.

“Yes, they are. There are a dozen people out there who saw what you did, Mabilia,” I tell her. I don’t even know why I care.

“Watch and learn. People don’t say no to me, Tommy.” She grins, then adds, “Well, usually they don’t,” while looking me up and down.

“What does that mean?People don’t say no to you?” I know what it means. I’m not stupid. I know exactly who she is. You don’t grow up in this city not knowing who the Valentinos andthe Petrovs are. And this girl is both. I just don’t care. I have no intention of serving someone who’s underage, no matter what their name is.

“Come on, you’ll see.” She walks right out the door as the cops are walking inside.

I stand back and watch as Mabilia talks to one of the officers. He offers to call her father to come and pick her up, and she refuses. Then they just leave as the paramedics are wheeling Juliet out on a stretcher.

What the fuck did Mabilia do to her? Damn, that girl is vicious, and I fucking love it.

“You ready to take me home?” Mabilia asks me.

“You want to come home with me?” I check. You know, to make sure I wasn’t hearing shit.

“Well, you offered to fuck me.” She raises an eyebrow.

“I also offered to make love to you,” I remind her.

“I don’t need love. I need an orgasm… and another drink.” She grabs my hand, and I let her lead me right out the door. I peer over a shoulder and nod at Denny, my best friend, who is standing behind the bar shaking his head at me while motioning a cutting gesture across his throat.

I shrug. If I go out because of this girl, it just might be worth it. Then again, what’s the harm in giving her what she’s asking for? She seems used to getting what she wants anyway.

Chapter Three

Iprobably shouldn’t be here, but the look on Tommy’s face is promising me a night of pleasure, and I want it. Anyone in their right mind would want this man. I look around his apartment. It’s nice, a lot nicer than something someone working at a hole-in-the-wall bar should own.

“How does a twenty-year-old afford a place like this?” I ask him.

“How does an eighteen-year-old afford a pair of three-thousand-dollar shoes?” he counters while eyeing my red-bottoms.

“Easy. I swipe that black card you refused to use.” I shrug, kicking off those same shoes and landing him with a glare. “Are you a hooker?”

Tommy’s surprised laugh turns into a cough. “A hooker?” he repeats. “What the fuck makes you think I’m a hooker?”

“Good looks, pretty smile, nice body—you’d go for a pretty penny. And all this…” I turn in a circle while motioning to the apartment. “It’s expensive, Tommy.”

“Most girls don’t ask where my money comes from,” he says. “They either come here to fuck or because they’re hoping to bag their next meal ticket.”

“I’m not most girls.” Sliding my feet back into my shoes, I saunter over to him and kiss his cheek. “It was nice meeting you. Catch you around.” I don’t look back as I walk out the door.

I might want to ride that man like a horse, but I’m not about to jump into bed with someone who can’t even tell me what he does to make his money. Usually, that means it’s nothing good. I don’t have anything against people on the shady side of life—I mean, how could I? My whole family falls into that category. No, what I hate is secrecy and lies.

I guess Tommy didn’t try to lie to me. But he sure as hell evaded my questions like a pro. Which tells me it’s not the first time he’s had to do it. And that is a guy I need to avoid.

When I picture my life ten years from now, it’s not trapped in a marriage with a mobster. I predict that maybe one day I will want that. Don’t get me wrong… I don’t need the white-picket fence with a boring nine-to-five guy. I don’t think that kind of guy would ever survive my father. Or my grandfather, for that matter.

No, it’s going to take someone with balls of steel to go up against them. And as Papa says,anyone who’s not willing to go up against him ain’t worth my time. He also says he’ll kill anyone who tries to take me away from him, but I’m thinking my mom will step in. Although that might only be because she wants to shoot first.

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