Page 10 of Owned By the Italian Mafia Don

He grins, unclipping the rope. “Welcome to Amor,” he holds out a hand for me, and with a fake smile, I slip my palm across his. “Beautiful,” he says, bringing the top of my hand to his lips to kiss my knuckles. “I love your hair.” He plucks a curl, straightens it, then lets it go to watch it bounce.

“Thank you,” I pretend to be breathless.

“Ralphie, let this one in,” he shouts over his shoulder to the bouncer.

The big guy nods, the purple light reflecting from his bald head, and opens the door.

“Thank you.” I bite my lip at the guy who allowed me out of the line.

“Oh, you’re welcome, sweetie.” A thick accent of some kind make his words seem harsher. New York, maybe? I don’t know. His eyes eat me up as I back away from him and a few people in line shout in anger. They want to go inside the club too. “Hey, shut the fuck up before I make you stand out here all night,” the guy threatens.

Everyone falls silent.

“Have a good time,” the bouncer states, opening the door for me to reveal a very dark room. His voice is thick with an accent too, but foreign. The way he says those four words creep up my spine and make my skin crawl in fear.

Our eyes meet and they are a cold, ice blue, making me feel like I’ve stepped into a tundra.

I swallow, giving him an unsure smile. I put a pep in my step because fuck that guy and walk further into the dark club.

The music is so loud, having a conversation won’t happen. The lights change from purple to blue, an apparent theme they want to keep, and private booths circle the main stage. The tables are set strategically so everyone can see the stages. To the left though was a hallway that didn’t leave much to the imagination for what happened back there.

I bet that’s where all the private rooms are.

The song changes and a woman saunters on stage, placing her back against the long, silver pole. I take a seat at the bar, wanting to keep my distance, and the bartender, a man in a tight black shirt stretched over his chest, leans over the counter so I can hear him speak.

“What can I get you, Beautiful?” he has an accent too.

Equally charming and dangerous.

“Can I have a dirty martini? But make it dirty with extra olives, please.”

He smirks. “A filthy martini, for the filthy girl. Got it,” he winks at me.

Oh, please.

I want to roll my eyes again.

Men. Do they think saying a compliment that has no meaning behind it will work on a woman? Maybe I’m just complicated.

“Thank you so much.” I wince when I hear how fake that sounds. I need to tone it back on the cluelessness.

He places a purple napkin on the counter in front of me, then the glass. “On the house,” he says.

I slip him cash. “No thank you. I don’t like to owe anyone.”

“You don’t owe anything. It’s taken care of.” His eyes dart to a man on the other side of the bar. “He’s one of the owners. He bought your drink.”

“Oh.” I glance down at the bar, lifting the glass in the air as a thank you and he does the same. I slip the money back into my purse, relieved because I don’t have much to last for the rest of the month.

The guy at the end of the bar, the owner, picks up his drink and makes his way toward me. He seems sophisticated, but the kind money buys, and the type that flaunts their worth. I’m not interested in that type. I love a man in a suit; something about a man exuding power excites me because I love to test power, poke it, and challenge it, but in a good way.

I don’t like fake power, something this man is pretending as he strolls ups to me, cocky smile on his face as if he can get anything and everything he wants. And maybe on any other day he can, but today isn’t that day.

Not with me.

But I’ll let him think so. I’ll let him have his dreams and dirty thoughts about me while I plan on getting every ounce of information I can out of him. I won’t fuck him. I have limits. I’ve never had sex and I’m not about to give my virginity to this guy.

I’ve wanted to have sex, but the time never felt right. I never felt pressured to have sex. I never felt like I had to. I also was never very interested or attracted enough to someone to fall into bed with them. It hasn’t been on my to-do list - only surviving has been.

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