Page 15 of His Ruthless Claim

"You really know how to sweet-talk a girl, don't you?" I reach past him to straighten a hanger, deliberately invading his space. Most men either back away or lean in. He does neither, holding his position with unnatural stillness.

"That's not my intention."

"No?" I meet his gaze. "Then what is your intention?"

Tell me why you keep coming in here.

He's never hit on me. Never told me who he is. And I'm letting him keep me in limbo because I don'twantto know. That would mean knowing too much - and that is against my policy.

If I don't actually know who he is, I don't have to worry about how often he is around me.

For a fraction of a second, something dangerous flickers across his face. "To conduct business efficiently."

"You know, most of my customers actually smile occasionally. You should try it sometime - your face won't crack."

His expression doesn't change, but his eyes narrow slightly. "I'll take the Valentino dress. Size four."

I study him for a minute before giving him a bright smile. "Of course."

His eyes follow me the whole time as I select the dress, a beautiful one that I love, and head to the counter. He leans on it, his watch resting against the glass like always, as I pack it up and he takes it away.

I try not to let myself feel disappointed with how short the visit was today as I lock up and head out to meet the girls for lunch. But it sticks with me after I've already slid into my seat and I forget to even listen to the conversation.

"Seriously, who needs seven different types of flowers?" Kendra stabs her fork into her salad. "My cousin's gone full bridezilla. Yesterday she called me crying about napkin colors. Napkins!"

We're crowded around our usual corner table at Misty's coffee shop, the lunch rush thinning out around us. Jazz picks at her sandwich, dark circles under her eyes betraying her exhaustion despite her immaculate makeup.

"At least she's not making you wear lime green." Mikayla wrinkles her nose. "My sister's wedding? The dresses looked like radioactive waste."

I stir my iced coffee, the ice cubes clinking against glass. My mind keeps drifting to those calculated movements through my store, the way he examines everything like he's memorizing evidence.

"Earth to Skye." Jazz waves her hand in front of my face. "You're quiet today."

"Just tired." I force a smile. "Business has been...interesting lately."

"Speaking of interesting." Kendra leans forward. "What's going on at the Vault? There was extra security when I came by earlier. I had to demand they get Marco just to get in."

Jazz's shoulders tense slightly. "Just some tension with the Mantiones. Nothing major." She takes a sip of water. "So Mikayla, how's that new cold brew blend working out?"

Mantione. The name hits me like a punch to the gut. I've seen it in the papers, heard whispers around the neighborhood. The family that runs half of Chicago's underworld with calculated precision. And they are cropping up more and more…

Like the night I saw the blue-eyed stranger at The Vault.

"They are Mantione," Jazz had said when I saw some guys walk in. But what if… What if he is, too?

He's obviously a made man. Those empty blue eyes that catalog everything, giving nothing away. The perfect suits that cost more than most people's monthly rent. The way he moves through my store like he owns it - like he owns everything.

But with the wealth that he shows and the way he acts, he has to be a whole more than a soldier or even an enforcer. He has to be someone important.

"You okay?" Mikayla touches my arm. "You don't look so good."

"Fine." I force myself to focus on their conversation, but my mind keeps circling back to him. To the danger that radiates off him in waves, even when he's just examining a silk blouse.

I should have known. Should have recognized the name, the power, the control. But he's nothing like the loud, flashy mobsters who sometimes frequent my store. He's something else entirely. Something worse.

I'm sure he's a made man but a Mantione? Aren't they…crazy? I've heard how Jazz talks about them. I know what they did to her. Surely, he can't be.

Then again…I think about how utterly emotionless he is. It's the opposite of the explosive anger I've heard of but no less unnerving.

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