Page 19 of His Ruthless Claim

If I can't excise this fascination, I'll control it. Study it. Dissect it until it loses its power. Just another variable to be managed, like everything else in my carefully ordered world.

My hand brushes the watch again. I pull it back like I've touched fire.

It seems my control is slipping everywhere today.

10

SKYE

The brass bell above my boutique door chimes as Mrs. Romano waddles in, her designer handbag swinging. I'm arranging a new display of silk scarves, but her hushed conversation with her companion catches my attention.

"Did you hear about Don Mantione?" Her whisper carries across the empty store. "Found him this morning."

My fingers still on the silk, but I keep my professional smile fixed. The scarf's material slides like water between my fingers as I pretend to be absorbed in my task.

"Heart attack, they're saying." Mrs. Romano's friend clicks her tongue. "Though with his temper..."

I think of the man who's been visiting my shop - tall, impeccably dressed in suits that cost more than my monthly rent. The way he places his silver watch on my counter while trying on jackets, like he owns the space. How other clients step back when he enters, their eyes down, voices hushed.

"His son will take over now," Mrs. Romano mutters. "That quiet one. More dangerous than the father, if you ask me. He's so…emotionless."

"Terrifying."

The son. Ice blue eyes flash in my memory. The controlled way he moves, each gesture precise. The lack of emotions. He can't be…

No. I don't want to know.

My fingertips trace the glass counter where he always sets his watch. The same spot, every visit. Everything about him is controlled, from his perfectly styled dark hair to his measured words. But there's something else there - an emptiness in those eyes that makes my skin prickle.

"I heard he doesn't even react when people get hurt," Mrs. Romano continues. "Just watches. Cold as ice."

I straighten a jacket on its hanger, remembering how it looked on him last week. The way the material draped over his shoulders, how he barely acknowledged my presence while I made adjustments. Not rudely - just distant, like I was a piece of furniture.

"Careful," Mrs. Romano's friend warns. "Walls have ears in this city."

I move toward them with a bright smile. "Can I help you ladies find anything today?"

But my mind is racing. All those quiet visits, the way he studies everything like he's cataloging weaknesses. And I still don't know what he wants from me.

The afternoon rush brings in the usual crowd - perfectly coiffed women with designer bags and secrets spilling from their lips. I recognize Maria Rosetti's Louboutin clicks first, followed by Sophia Patrillo's throaty laugh. The scent of expensive perfume fills my boutique as they browse through the racks.

"Did you see him at the funeral?" Maria adjusts her pearl necklace. "Standing there like a statue while they lowered Tony into the ground."

I slide hangers across the rack, arranging the new Versace pieces while keeping my movements casual. These women don'trealize how much they reveal when they think they're among friends.

"He cleared house already." Sophia's voice drops to barely a whisper. "Three of Tony's old capos, gone. Just like that." She snaps her manicured fingers.

"Smart move." This from Carmen, a capo's wife who always pays in cash. She holds up a black cocktail dress against her curves. "The old guard was too loyal to Tony. You know how they enabled his... episodes."

The women exchange knowing looks. I fold a cashmere sweater, my movements deliberate as I stay within earshot.

"Young Mantione's different though." Carmen's ruby red lips purse. "Calculated. You should see how he runs meetings now. No drinking allowed. Everything precise."

"Those eyes of his give me chills." Maria shivers, despite the boutique's warmth. "Like he's taking inventory of your soul."

I think of ice blue eyes that study me. Of how they seem to look straight into the core of who I am - but don't scare me.

And then I shove those thoughts away.

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