Page 4 of Big Bad Wolf

Why has no one ever mentioned the man is breathtaking? I’ve heard my father’s mafioso buddies use the words killer, insane, and hothead, but no one ever mentioned his long eyelashes, killer pecs, or thick, muscular thighs. Men never think to toss in those types of attributes.

Ignoring the rapid beat of my pounding heart and the wet heat spilling into my panties, I shake my head, leaning back to look into those dreamy green eyes. “I know who you are, and I’ve heard about your reputation. I’m unsure why you’re following me, but I must ask you to stop immediately.” The words burn as acid rises from my belly into my throat. Every sentence is a lie, and I regret each word as soon as I hear them out loud.

He’s beautiful but entirely inappropriate. My parents would never let me keep company with a Russian gangster, Boris Volkov’s son and a well-known sociopath. He’s too scary. Too risky. His presence should have me shaking in my pumps, but it’s been a long time since any man has given me the time of day, and this one makes up for all of them put together.

“We’ll see each other soon.” Vasily slides his fingers beneath my palm, then lifts my trembling hand to his lips, kissing me gently as I feel the air leave my lungs.

Before he can hypnotize me with his voice, I blurt out the last thing I want to say, “No, we won’t.”

He smiles wide, then winks. “Yes, we will. You can bet your life on it.”

“No,” I whisper under my breath, repeating an obligatory protest that falls flat.

Vasily nods and looks toward the commotion at the door. The corner of his mouth tips into a wicked grin. “I always get what I want, doll. No one stops me. No one dares.”

Sybil barges through Gennaro’s double doors and tosses her windswept hair over her shoulder, accidentally slapping Tasha’s angry face. Tasha grimaces, then weaves past her, jumping ahead of a line of waiters before heading toward the table I’ve kept warm for the last thirty minutes. I can tell by her peeved expression and quick steps she’s not only pissed but absolutely starving.

I’m too stunned to reply. Too aroused to construct a witty comeback that might put him in his place. As the girls move closer to our table, he coolly exits through the backdoor of the trattoria and disappears as stealthily as he arrived.

Is someone playing a practical joke on me?

* * *

“Who was that?” Tasha scrambles to the table, her eyes wide with shock as she cranes her neck to get a better look at the back end of Gennaro’s. Her eyes narrow to slits, and her mouth forms a tight line. “Scarlett Rossi, why were you dining with Vasily Volkov?

Sybil catches up, out of breath, as she slips her cardigan off her shoulders and pulls out a chair, letting her tired behind fall onto the seat. “Thank goodness you’re still here. You’ll never believe what we’ve been through! Wait a minute—you dined? Who dined? Did you start without us?” She grabs a small sanitizer tube from her purse and squeezes a dollop onto her hands, rubbing her palms as she speaks, “Is this bread fresh? I’m about to consume mass quantities and want it to be worth the calories.”

I slide the olive oil to her side of the table. “They told me it was right out of the oven. What happened? Why are you so late?” I decide not to share Vasily’s part in their delay. It will only anger them more.

Tasha growls with frustration, shaking her head as she chugs half of my wine. “It’s entirely Sybil’s fault. She ordered the car from some hack service which must have the lowest rating in Manhattan. The man missed every yellow light and took every wrong turn.”

“That company has rave reviews! How was I supposed to know he’d suffer a mental breakdown tonight?” Sybil defends herself between bites, mumbling while she stuffs her mouth with focaccia bread.

I watch them fight over the last piece, wondering if I should continue to ignore Tasha’s question. Her family’s Russian, and although she’s never admitted it, I know her father is involved in the Russian underworld. She’s kept it a secret for the same reason I don’t tell people my father may be the most corrupt man serving in Congress. That’s not an easy accomplishment.

Tasha asks the server to bring her a Campari and soda, then returns her attention to me. “Scarlett, how the hell do you know Vasily? I know he’s hot, but he’s bad news. You don’t want to get involved with a man like that,” she warns, clasping my forearm to ensure I’m listening to every word.

“Who’s Vasily?” Sybil’s wide eyes peer over the rim of her frozen Bellini. “I’m sitting right here. Why am I so lost?”

“I don’t know him. He was eating dinner alone and noticed I’d dropped my napkin on the floor. He handed it to the waiter and asked him to bring me another.” I whip out a lie without missing a beat. This is embarrassing. Lying makes it feel seedier, like I’m expecting more to happen between us, which is ridiculous.

“Why does it feel like you’re lying?” Tasha leans closer and squints, examining me like a detective questioning a suspect. “I mean it, Scarlett. Our social lives suck, but that’s no excuse to make irresponsible decisions.”

“My social life does not suck,” Sybil shouts, clearly delusional.

“Yes, it does. Yours may be the worst of all,” Tasha huffs and rolls her eyes.

“Witch,” Sybil grumbles.

“Bitch,” Tasha responds in kind, then chuckles as Sybil clinks her glass to hers.

Sybil and Tasha work in the fashion industry and have a flair for the dramatic. It’s one of the things I love about them. I don’t have any siblings, and our fast friendship got me through my lonely boarding school days. We met on our first day, bonded over being New Yorkers, and spent our free time dreaming of working in fashion. We decided early that one day we’d open our own fashion house and be featured at the Met Ball.

It was just a silly pipe dream. But I’m glad the girls are still chasing it.

I’m rooting for them every step of the way and hope to catch up next year.

Tasha is a talented artist who designed several dresses for us at school. She downplays her skills, but I know she’s got the vision to become a legend. Sybil has people skills and can handle public relations and marketing. I have connections and a good head for business. This isn’t about fame or money. I love supporting Tasha’s vision however I can. Although I’m temporarily delayed, I’m not giving up on it entirely.

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