Page 3 of Blossom in Shadows

There’s something about the man that screams danger. His shoulders are broad, and his dark hair looks like he’s run his fingers through it. I can’t see more of him, not from here, but something burns inside of me with the desire to see all of him.

I shove it away because I need to focus. I’m already not sure how I’m going to get through this audition, I don’t need any more distractions.

CHAPTER 2

ELIO

I’m positive Constantino scheduled these fucking auditions while he’s out of town with his woman, Lily, just to piss me off. I’m used to going up against dangerous men who are trying to figure out ways to take down the Agosti family. I’m not used to dealing with women who are shaking their asses to get a job in a cage. My brother has a fucked-up sense of humor if he thought this was going to go over well.

I pull my phone out, the woman in front of me not holding my attention which means there is no way she’s going to get the job. I have a message from Nikolai Orlov thanking me for setting up an introduction with the Falsini triplets down in New Orleans. Nikolai is an asset to me here in New York, but I have a feeling this could bite me in the ass down the line.

I don’t want to piss off my cousin, Dante Guidice, but business is business and I know Dante, as the head of his family like I am of mine, understands. Still, family is family and giving business to the Falsini triplets isn’t exactly keeping it in the family. Dante is not a fan of the Falsini family.

Considering I’ve met their princess, Bella, who is only out for power and money, I can understand why Dante has them on a short leash. He was never interested in making their tentative alliance stronger through marriage, as much as Bella Falsini wanted to make it happen. I wouldn’t touch Bella even if I was paid to and can only be thankful I’m far away in New York.

I shoot a message back to Nikolai and tell him it was no problem and that I hope their business is lucrative. Nikolai has the inside scoop on Soviet arms. It’s a good business decision for me to keep the man happy.

I’ve heard rumors that he’s gone soft after an incident almost a year ago, but I know better. If they think the man is soft, then they should go up against him. I have no doubt who would be going home in a body bag and who would be walking away.

Orlov is ruthless when it comes to business and those who have wronged him.

My eyes stray to the woman again and I keep my mask firmly in place to stop myself from grimacing. The woman has no sex appeal or rhythm. Why the fuck would we put her in one of the cages of Sala for entertainment?

When I was speaking to Lorenzo, my right-hand man, who is overseeing the things I should be doing, he gave me shit about the auditions. He wiggled his eyebrows at me, “Maybe Constantino thought you’d find some girl to fuck. It’s been a while since anyone has warmed your bed.”

As my best friend for as long as I can remember and a man I consider a brother as much as my own blood, he’s one of the few people in the world who can get away with speaking to me in such away. “I don’t need some whore between my sheets, Zo,” I snarled.

He held his hands up. “Just because she’s dancing doesn’t mean she’s a whore. Sala’s not that kind of club.”

I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to ignore the annoyance I was feeling. It wasn’t Lorenzo’s fault, and he wasn’t exactly wrong about me needing a woman. I’ve watched my brothers, Constantino and Luca, along with Lorenzo fall at the feet of their women recently.

The fact that Lorenzo has claimed the baby of the Agosti family, Daisy, is something I’m still struggling to accept. She’s happy though and that’s all that matters to me. It’s what has always mattered to me. Lorenzo will keep her safe as well.

I didn’t respond to him about the women who would audition at Sala. I just started striding out the door, wishing I could stay and have a glass of Hammond Whiskey. “Call me if there are any issues,” I threw over my shoulder, knowing full well Lorenzo would without me reminding him.

He’s solid. He learned at the knee of his father, just like I did, for our roles in this family. Hell, I’d still be learning next to my father if he hadn’t passed and left the family in my hands. It was always my destiny, but it was still a shock when it happened. Even after experiencing Mother’s death, nothing could have prepared me for Father to not be around anymore.

I sit back on the couch and spread my legs wider, trying to stop myself from jumping up and storming out. My mind is spinning with the other things I have to do and none of them involve sitting here and watching women gyrate so they can be hoisted up in cages to entertain the masses. I’m only here because of Constantino.

He would do anything for me, and I know it. It’s the reason why I agreed to it when he came and said he wanted to take Lily on a trip. Orlov was kind enough to let them use his cabin upstate, which is just another reason to stay on the man’s good side.

I should have asked more questions about what was on Constantino’s agenda this week when overseeing Sala got added to my schedule because this is pure torture.

“Stop,” my voice rings with authority and the woman’s jerky movements cease. What doesn’t stop is the pounding in my head because watching her move was pure fucking torture. “Get off my stage,” I snarl the words, not giving a shit that she looks broken and defeated.

She came here for a job, but she’s awful. No grace. No rhythm. No magnetism.

I almost gag at the thought of being in bed with a woman like that. How could anyone stand it?

She doesn’t get the hint and starts to strut toward me, her tits practically falling out of the top she has on. If I were to look closely enough, I’m sure I could see the lips of her pussy peeking out from underneath what she must think is a skirt. She looks like a fucking whore.

This woman has no idea how lucky she is that, while my father raised a ruthless man, my mother instilled some basic manners in me. I sneer as she gets closer and her perfume wafts over me. It’s so fucking strong and cloying.

“Come on, Baby,” she pouts. “Want me to give you a more,” she looks me up and down as if I’m the meal she’s been starved of her entire life, “private dance?”

“No,” my voice is cold and unyielding.

She steps even closer and has the fucking audacity to put her hand on my shoulder and run it down my chest. Does she have no sense of self-preservation?

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