Page 7 of The Cost of Corruption

She blinked before answering, lost in private thought. “Excuse me?” Then, following my pointed stare down at her wrist, immediately stopped her stroking and tucked both arms demurely behind her back. “I’m fine, but I need?—”

I stopped her with a groan as she glanced behind her at the closed door. “Please don’t say you need to get to the lounge again.”

An awkward pause hung in the air between us before she found the courage to look back at me. “But I do.”

“No, you don’t,” I told her plainly. “At least not until your cousins are done brawling in the hallway.”

She exhaled sharply, almost as if she was stuffing down a chuckle, even as her eyes demurely swept down to the floor. “Don’t be so dramatic, Mr. D’Angelo. A few slaps and insults can hardly be classified as a brawl.”

Mr. D’Angelo. I liked it better when she called meMatteo.

I strode back a few steps, leaned my hip against the antique, carved walnut desk behind me—a remnant from the club’s previous owner—and crossed my arms.

“Is that right?” I asked, my eyes zeroing in on her face, studying her meek expression under the golden glow of the room’s covered lamps. “What would you call it, then?”

Her slim shoulders shrugged. “Any given Friday night at my father’s house.”

I struggled to fight back a smile. Even in the crime world, the Costa family were known for their chaotic behavior—though I’d never heard one of their own admit it so openly.

“Be that as it may, you can’t leave this office until the club is safe and secure.”

“You’re holding me against my will?”

“No,” I answered plainly.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, showing a spark of defiance that only intrigued me more. “So, you wouldn’t stop me if I tried to open that door?”

“Of course not,” I assured her calmly. “Go right ahead.”

Her skeptical gaze zeroed in on my face for another beat before she suddenly turned and practically bolted for the exit. But no matter hard she yanked on the knob, the door didn’t budge. After a few strained tries, she finally gave up and turned back around.

“It’s locked,” she said with an annoyed huff.

“That’s right.”

“So,unlock it.”

“I can’t.” It was the truth. “It’s part of the club’s safety protocol. Any time there is an incident, all doors are automatically locked and can only be opened with code from the outside.”

“Anytime?” She rolled her eyes. Judgment dripped from her tone. “You’re saying this happens a lot?”

“Typically, only when someone with the name Costa reserves one of our rooms for the night,” I said without blinking.

Surprisingly, Alessia didn’t appear the least bit offended…or ashamed. “Far be it from me to tell you how to run your club, Mr. D’Angelo, but a competent businessman might consider banning known troublemakers from his establishment.”

Her words were as sharp as the cutting look in her honey-brown eyes.

Interesting.

I was starting to think that maybe she wasn’t as meek as her ridiculous outfit made her seem.

“Maybe,” I conceded. “But a savvy one lets them keep coming and tacks a hefty service fee to the end of their bill every night.”

Her mouth snapped shut at that. Clearly, she knew better than to waste her breath defending her family. Instead, she clasped her hands in front of her shapeless black dress and drew a long breath. “So, how long are we stuck in here?”

“Until my head of security deems the situation resolved.”

“And when will that be?”

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