Page 69 of Dirty Mafia Torment
“Not Bianca.”
“No.” He tosses back his espresso, then gestures at the bartender for another. “It got messy.”
“Bet it did.”
“Had to have her and her friends escorted from the club. A shame. I was digging the red wig she had on.”
I frown. “Wig?”
“Yeah. She and her friends are into role-playing. Chick shit, you know.”
Espresso sloshes over the rim, and I stare at my shaking hand.
“Adrenaline crash,” Dante says, locking in. “You’ll get used to it.”
I say nothing. Let him think I’m coming down from a natural high.
Because the truth is the blonde triggers another memory.
Of the man I thought I left behind.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
RENZO
Seven months ago
Hip propped against her car,partially for support, partially because the ground’s spinning, I ambush her in a Whole Foods parking lot.
“Renzo,” she breathes, coming to a stop a few feet away.
I straighten and lurch forward.
“Are you hurt?” she demands, her gaze skimming over me for signs of injury.
Yeah, I’m hurt. Fucking drowning in it, mixed with the liquor I’ve consumed and the drugs pumping through my veins.
It all ties back to Rome.
Rome. Rome. Rome.
“I expected you weeks ago.”
My eyebrows pinch. Weeks? Is that how long it’s been? Hard to distinguish between daytime and nighttime let alonebetween days … weeks.
“Thank God you came. My father booked us a flight to Chicago for me to meet Carlo.” She charges forward and grabs my elbow.
I sway on my feet from the contact.
“We can drive to Vegas right now and get married…”
My foot catches on my ankle, and I tumble onto the pavement.
“Renzo,” she cries out, falling to her knees. “What’s wrong with you?”
I lie on my back and stare up at her. “I savored the moment too fucking long. And now I’m paying the price for it.”
“What moment?”
