Page 57 of Boardwalk Queen

He grabbed my wrist and dragged me inside his apartment, slamming the door behind me. “I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior, Miss Vianello. Not when you’re going to be my date.”

“Date?” I scoffed at the idea. “I don’t want to be your date. Not after you threw me out of your apartment and made me dig a grave.”

“Get over yourself. You sucked my dick. Was I supposed to thank you?” He glanced over his shoulder and smirked. “Or would you rather I pay you?”

“Fuck you! I’m not a whore. I regret ever touching you. It was a mistake.”

He clutched my wrists and bent down to speak against my lips, invading my senses with his masculine scent. A cologne that smelled spicy, mixed with clean linen.

“You forget who you’re speaking to.” His lips almost brushed mine, and I forgot how to breathe with him so close. “Regardless of what happened, I’m still your boss. So if I say you’re my date to the gala this weekend, you will wear the dress and a smile and act the part.”

I didn’t have much leverage now that my dad was gone. This wasn’t the brightest idea, which didn’t occur to me until he was breathing in my face. Dante could have killed me with his bare hands. And with him tightening his grip, a tremor of fear rocked through my body.

“I will be your date,” I bit out, still feeling somewhat brave, despite the circumstances. “On one condition.”

He loosened his grip on my wrists and waited for me to finish my request.

“I want one dance from you.”

Dante laughed in my face. “Not a chance.”

“That’s the only way I’ll go with you.”

“Bold words for a woman who doesn’t have a choice.”

I brushed my lips on his. He let go of my wrists and stepped back, looking as if he were sick to his stomach from touching another human being.

“One dance,” I said again since he didn’t respond. “That’s the deal.”

Setting his empty glass on the kitchen counter, he looked out the patio doors at the Atlantic Ocean. “Fine, I’ll dance with you.” His head snapped to me. “But don’t push your luck.”

I gave him a victorious smile. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

He nodded, then refilled his glass with scotch. “Very well.”

* * *

On Saturday night, Dante stormed into my apartment without knocking. He dressed in a black tuxedo that molded to his muscular body, paired with a black bowtie. I stood in front of the mirror on the dining room wall and fixed my hair into place, glancing at him in the mirror.

Dante looked good enough to eat.

“Good evening, Mr. Luciano,” I said in a snarky tone, giving him a shit-eating grin. “Ever hear of a doorbell?”

“I’ll come over here whenever I want.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his eyes moving over each curve of my body. “Are you done fussing over yourself? I can’t be late for my party.”

“I wish you would stop taking everything so seriously,” I said as he dragged me out of the apartment and headed toward the elevator. “It wouldn’t kill you to have fun for once in your life.”

When the doors opened, he pushed me inside the empty car. “It might.”

On the ground floor, Dante kept his eyes ahead as if he were on a mission. We strolled through the casino, which smelled of smoke. I fanned my hand in front of my face and coughed.

“Did you bring your inhaler with you?”

“It’s in here.” I raised my purse. “Don’t worry. I won’t be dying on you tonight.”

He pulled open the door, moving his hand to my lower back as he ushered me inside the massive room. At least a hundred people were already here.

Clinging to Dante’s side, I moved through the ballroom and smiled. This was all for show. After years of being forced to attend the Lucianos events, I knew what was required.

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