Page 42 of Of Desire And Deception

I stayed on the couch, turning on my music and staring unfocused at the blank TV screen as the violin notes wove through the surrounding air. Three hours had passed when I finally looked down at my phone again.

I needed to start getting ready if I was going to pick Wynn up on time. I hummed with the music as I donned my gloves and gave my place a quick clean, though it was already spotless. The invisible filth never washed away.

After scrubbing until the veins in my forearms bulged, I scalded and scrubbed myself in the shower, determined to get clean enough that I might be worthy of the woman I was taking out. Everything had to be perfect tonight.

I’d made reservations for the private room at Angelo’s, so I donned a tailored black suit, looking every bit a part of the Neretti mafia. I wouldn’t flaunt my family connections, but Wynn no doubt knew about my life. Few people in Chicago didn’t know the name and the weight behind it.

I added onyx cufflinks to my black dress shirt and slipped into my suit jacket before finding my shoes. When I was ready, I smoothed my hair down and straightened my tie, nodding at my reflection in the floor-length mirror. Not a speck of lint or a hair out of place. I was ready.

The ride to Wynn’s neighborhood didn’t take long. As I neared her apartment building, I noticed a few men gathered on the street corner. My lips twitched as I realized it was a drug exchange, and I pulled to the curb. I still had a few minutes before Wynn would expect me.

As I approached the men where they’d backed into an alley, one looked up and caught sight of me. He turned on his heel before I could say anything, but one of the others pushed his jacket back to reveal a pistol at his waist.

“Fancy man,” he taunted, holding his jacket to the side as he inclined his jaw. He was a fool to think it would intimidate me. “You lookin’ for trouble?”

“Find a different street for your business,” I demanded. “This one belongs to me now.”

“The fuck it does,” the other man spat, taking a fighting stance. Amateur.

“I will give you five seconds to walk away,” I warned, my fingers flexing, eager to feel my blade. “Then I will kill one of you and leave the other alive enough to spread the word. Five. Four.”

The men looked at each other and broke into laughter. The first removed his hand from his weapon to hold his shaking stomach. “Look at this guy. Some rich dude thinks he owns the streets. You planning to develop something, man?”

I smiled. “Three.”

“Oh no, I’m so scared,” he said mockingly. “You’re down to two.”

“One,” I added, looking at each man’s bloodshot eyes. They must have been sampling whatever they were selling. “Poor choice, boys.”

They stilled at the change in my voice. The need for bloodshed pounded along with my pulse as I sized up my prey. “This street belongs to the Neretti family now.”

“Fuck,” the man with the gun whimpered as he spun to escape.

It was too late to evade the knife I’d drawn. I lunged forward and grabbed the hood of his jacket, yanking him back and exposing his throat, then slicing across the fragile flesh. Blood sprayed his companion, and his jeans darkened with piss. I dropped the body and moved toward him.

“P-please,” he begged, holding his hands out as if they could stop me.

“You tell the others to stay away from this block.” I reached out, twisting the man’s arm behind his back as he cried out in agony. My blade cut through his cheek like butter. “If I hear of any illegal activity here, I will eradicate all of you. Understand?”

“Y-yes,” the man whimpered, standing on his toes to reduce the strain on his shoulder. “You’ll never see us again.”

“Good.” I cleaned my blade on the man’s coat and tucked it away, then pointed to the dead man. “Get somebody to clean this up.”

“Right away.” The man began pulling on his lifeless companion’s arm in a desperate attempt to drag him further into the shadows as I strolled back to my car and moved up the street to park in front of Wynn’s building. The address listed in her employee file was a dilapidated excuse for a dwelling.

I stood beside the car and checked my suit for blood under the street lamp. As I finished, Wynn slipped out the door, stopping before me. I swear my heart stopped momentarily and only resumed its beat for her.

“I would have come up,” I told her, taking in her long winter coat.

She waved her hand. “That’s okay. I’m here now.”

Her pale blonde hair was down, tumbling around her shoulders in styled waves. She’d done her makeup differently. It made her eyes pop, and her dark red lipstick reminded me of her blood. Fuck. I wanted to turn her around and take her upstairs. I cleared my throat and opened the car door for her. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She slid carefully into the seat, and I made my way around the car, climbing in and getting it started so I could turn the heat on. The heels she wore offered no protection in the near-freezing temperatures. She glanced over at me. “You look nice.”

I nodded. “Thanks. Do you like Italian?”

Shit, I should have asked that before I made the reservation. What if she hates pasta?

---