Page 15 of Rotten Men

I just wish hate was predominate above all others.

Six

Selene

“And where do you think you’re going?” the six-foot-five monster of a man growls at me, halting my attempts to side-step behind him into the club.

“Inside,” I counter, continuing to try and bypass his intimidating form.

“Oh no, you don’t, Blondie. Club’s closed. Come back later when we’re open. Then you can party,” he grunts, pushing me just hard enough to take a step back from the main door.

I huff out, exasperated at the tower in my way, and place my hands on my hips.

“I’m not here to party, obviously. I’m here to see your boss,” I retort assertively.

“Here to see the bossman, huh?” he asks, scrutinizing me from head to toe. I have to force myself not to roll my eyes at his distasteful inspection.

“Yes. Now can you please let me in so I can talk to him? We’re friends,” I add, overly sweet, in the hopes that playing the coy girl card will open the doors behind him.

“Yeah, all of you are bossman’s ‘friends’. Still not letting you through, though. Come back tonight, Blondie. Oh, and FYI, you should get yourself a nice short dress. Maybe then, if you’re lucky, you’ll get to see him. If you come back looking the way you are now, I can tell you straight off that he’s not interested,” the bouncer snickers, apparently not appreciative of my casual ripped jeans, hoodie, and leather jacket ensemble.

I bite my inner cheek instead of stomping on this big oaf’s foot for the insult and his not-so-subtle insinuation. Sure, he’s big and could snap my neck easily enough, but I doubt he’s fast.

On second thought…

“OUCH!” he wails while bending over after I stomp his foot, giving me the perfect distraction, and just enough time to sneak my way in.

I run inside the lavish nightclub and see it’s almost empty, save for a few staff members who are busy filling up the bar and cleaning tables. Everyone is too focused on their task to register my unwarranted presence. I’m almost halfway to the stairs that will lead me to DeLuca’s office, when grubby hands pull my arms behind my back, thwarting my plans. I’m hit with the smell of menthol breath on my neck, as I struggle to break free from the giant’s fierce grip.

“Now, was that nice, hurting me like that? I was trying to be civil, and you stomped me,” he grunts in my ear, his tone half-entertained and half-annoyed.

“Oh please! It barely made a dent on you. I doubt a cement truck could hurt you,” I cry out, shuffling erratically, hoping he’ll give me enough wiggle room to hurt him again.

“You’re a feisty little mouse, aren’t you?” He chuckles.

“Not quite a compliment, coming from you. I bet everyone looks small to you.” I sigh out, frustrated that my efforts to free myself from the brute are completely futile.

“Hmm,” he replies, his eyes crinkling with amusement at the sides.

“I just need to see him. Please,” I plead earnestly, hoping my sincerity reaches his ears.

“Persistent, too, huh?” He huffs out.

“I don’t know how to be anything else.” I shrug, and he lets out a muffled laugh. “Just five minutes. Please.”

When I feel his hands unwrap themselves from their hold on me, I almost sigh out in relief.

“I wasn’t trying to be an asshole to you, Blondie. It’s just, I know the bossman won’t see you,” he informs, eyeing me apologetically. “And I don’t know why you need to see him so bad, but a girl like you shouldn’t even want to be alone with a man like him. Trust me, doll. I’ve seen him chew out meaner people than you for breakfast,” he warns cautiously.

I grab my wrist and take off the bracelet which holds the tiara Giovanni gave me for graduation. It sits right beside Dominic’s wings. Both keepsakes have gotten me through more somber days than I can count. I have never once taken the delicate bracelet off my wrist, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Here. Give him this. I promise you he’ll want to see me once you’ve shown him this,” I explain, hoping the trinket will remind the hard man to recollect a time when his heart still held nothing but love.

The brooding man takes the frail, silver bracelet in his calloused hands and gives me a small nod and a thin, worried grin.

“Fine. But you have to promise you won’t follow me down there and that you’ll behave while I’m gone. I still think you should run your pretty little ass out of here, but it’s your funeral. Promise you’ll stay put?” I cross my heart with my finger, and he smirks, amused.

Once he goes off behind the bar and down the stairs, where Gio must be holed up, I allow myself to exhale and try to get my wits back. I’ll need to be steadfast and clearheaded, which will prove difficult when I finally come face to face with the newconsigliereof the Outfit. I stay in my place as promised, only letting my eyes wander the area around me.

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