| |
Dante
Charlie strode up to me the moment I set foot in the penthouse, her hands planted firmly on her well-defined hips. Her breasts heaved with quick, frustrated breaths, pressing against the fabric of yet another one of my over-sized t-shirts she wearing, making her ample cleavage all the more pronounced.
Not even my overly large sweatpants detracted from her femininity.
“I want out of here,” she announced.
I slipped my jacket off and hung it up on a nearby hook.
“And I want you to leave,” I said, recognizing it was a lie as soon as I said it. “But that can’t happen yet. Have a bit more patience Charlie?”
“No.” She pushed herself in front of me, stopping me from going anywhere. Her perfume reached me, sweet and full and musky. No, it wasn’t perfume. It was cologne. My cologne. I recognized the scent, which was somehow even more powerful on her.
My groin tightened, pulses of pleasure racing through my entire body. I managed to stifle a groan.
“Why are you wearing my cologne?”
“Because I don’t have any of my things here,” she huffed. “I wear scent all the time. It’s my thing,” she declared petulantly.
“Hmm,” I said. My scent on her was an aphrodisiac I wasn’t prepared for. What woman raided a man’s cologne cabinet – and wore it better than he did?
“I want out Dante,” she was pleading. “Just for a few minutes a day. I can’t stand being cooped up in here. It’s been three days now and I’m going stir crazy. I need some air.”
“Open a window,” I said, off balance by her pleas. The sight and scent of her made conversation difficult. And the look in her eyes when she pleaded; I’ll be damned if it wasn’t almost my undoing. It was almost crime keeping such a beautiful thing caged.
Charlie pointed her finger at me. “I’m going to open a window in your head. You can’t keep me locked up in here! Even with Bull!” she said, pointing a finger in his direction.
Bull took this as a sign to depart, disappearing into his room.
Her ferocity surprised me and I laughed. Some of the tension of the past few days ran out of me. “That’s a terrible threat. It doesn’t even make sense.”
“That’s because my brain’s melting in here. I know I couldn’t ask for a better place to be held captive – if I must be held captive. And that’s just it Dante. I’m so aware of the reason I’m here. I feel like I can’t breathe. Why can’t I go outside for half hour or so? I won’t go alone. If you come with me, nothing bad will happen, right?” she said, her eyes dancing with what she obviously thought was a pretty indefensible argument.
“I’m at risk, too,” I reminded her.
“But you aren’t sitting inside all day like I am,” she pouted.
“I have men watching me,” I pointed out. “I’m protected.”
The longer Stefan evaded capture, the more thankful I was for my guards in the shadows, especially since I’d learned more about what he’d been up to.
Dammit Stefan!
“And if you’re with me, I’ll be protected too,” she countered.
I hesitated. Charlie, not surprisingly, did make sense. It really wasn’t fair to keep her cooped up, and it couldn’t go on forever. She was like a neglected houseplant, barely surviving but not thriving. And how could she without sunlight and fresh air, I reasoned, my heart wanting to take her side even though my brain knew better.
“Look,” she said, placing her hand on her neck, sensing a crack in my reasoning. “My bruises have settled down a lot,” she said, cocking her head to one side and peering up at me.
She was right. The darker purple marks had faded, leaving behind smaller smears of yellowish-green that were harder to notice against her caramel-colored skin.
I couldn’t help but continue my exploration. I looked up from her neck to her face: her elegant cheekbones, the subtle curve of her chin, her wide eyes peering out from underneath long, thick eyelashes. And her scar.
Scar?
Without thinking, I lifted my hand and touched the area right under her chin. Her skin was smooth and cool under my fingertip. “What’s this?”
“You’re just now noticing that?” she laughed.
“I’ve noticed every part of you,” I said, regretting the words as soon as they came out of my mouth. “This is not exactly out in the open.”
Charlie looked at me and laughed. “Maybe you need some fun time outside as much as I do,” she suggested.
Tricky little devil, I thought, swallowing a smile at the quickness of her mind. Besides, the thought of forgetting about the hunt for Stefan – just for a few hours – was too much to resist.
“You know I’m right,” she said, her eyes illuminated with excitement.
She looked like a kid on Christmas morning: so young, so beautiful, the pinpoints of light from the light fixture in the living room dancing around her head like a halo. Her whole body was brimming with excitement. Who could resist such excitement?
“How about this?” she continued her persuasive onslaught. “Take me out to dinner and I’ll tell you about my scar.”
I was curious.
“Alright. I’ll take you up on that deal, Charlie.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she jumped in my arms in excitement.
Her body felt warm and soft and fragrant against mine, hardening my already stiffened shaft to performance-ready position.
She stilled in my arms, feeling the pressure of my center. Her arms remained around my neck, as she stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against mine.
"Little girls shouldn't play with fire Charlie."
"I'm not a little girl, and I know how to put fires out," she said, her lips pressing against mine again.
"Charlie," I said, as she nipped along my bottom lip.
"Yes, Dante," she breathed, pressing her body into my rock-hard center.
I bent her head across my arm, claiming the bud of her lips softly, relishing the gradations of sweetness she emitted.
She buried her hands in my hair, shaking with intensity as she deepened the kiss, sending tremors up and down the whole of me.
I rocked from the unfamiliar sensation of wanting to surrender. I slowly pulled back from her.
"Wh—" she began.
I put my finger to the center of her lips. "Shhh, sweet Charlie."
"But—"
"Shhh," I whispered, putting my forehead to hers. "If you want that dinner you talked me into, you will let me end this now before there is no going back."
She looked up at me, a question in her eyes. Instead, she nipped my finger with her teeth.
"You're the boss," she declared.
If only that were true, I said silently. If only that were true.
She pulled back from me, alarm in her eyes.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I just remembered, I have nothing to wear,” she groaned. “I can’t go out in public like this,” she said, holding out her arms.
“I don’t know, you look kinda cute,” I said, crossing my arms in front of me as I perused her. The woman could make a grain sack runway worthy.
“Dante!” she shrieked.
“Ok. Ok. I hear you. As it so happens, you’re in luck. In my closet are a few outfits you can choose from.”
“I’m not wearing sweatpants to dinner. Your clothes don’t fit me, in case you haven’t noticed,” she said, holding out her arms again in exasperation at the bagginess of the clothes she wore.
“They’re not man’s clothes. They’re women – designer, no less – duds.”
“What are you, a cross dresser? I knew there had to be more than the mob boss thing you were keeping a secret.”
“Where do you get that fertile little mind of yours?” I said, struggling not to laugh out loud. I seemed to do a lot of that around Charlie. Laugh. Smile. Feel happy – even in the awful situation we were in. “Just dig in the closet. There’s a little black number in there that should fit, along with some shoes that should fit.”
“Who’s clothes will I be wearing Dante?”
“Kim’s. Is that a problem?”
“Seeing as I have no choice, I guess not.”
“One always has choices, Charlie.”
“If I had my choice, I wouldn’t be here,” she said, realizing that she wouldn’t have felt the softness of Dante’s lips on hers. Or, observed how relaxed he was when he cooked. Or, witnessed the excitement in his eyes as he enjoyed a movie. Or, be on the verge of a dinner date with him. Talk about mixed feelings.
“I have a few calls to make before we get going,” I said, and turned to go into my home office. “You have twenty minutes.”
“You always have to be in charge, don’t you Dante?”
“I’ve found that life usually works out better for me when that is the case,” I said.
“Funny, I’ve always felt the same way, but that has been taken away from me,” she returned.
I’d never felt lower.
“Twenty minutes Charlie,” I said, turning to go into my office.
“Aye yai sir,” she said, standing stiff, clicking her feet together and saluting me.
I hated what this forced captivity was doing to her, but the calls I had to make brought into sharp focus why it was necessary.
I phoned a few of the men I often used as guards, directing one to be outside the restaurant when we arrived. Another was to take a seat at the bar inside. And the other would tail us on the drive there. It was probably going overboard, but I was taking no chances – especially with Charlie in tow.
That done, I went upstairs to to freshen up. The place I had in mind would accept me as a patron no matter what, even without a reservation, but I did have a public image to uphold. The suit I still wore from work would do, I decided. I changed shirts and went down the hall exactly twenty minutes later.
Charlie stood in front of her bedroom door. She’d changed out of my t-shirt and droopy sweatpants into a somewhat daring black dress, with slits on either side that showed off teasing flashes of her smooth brown thighs when she moved. More of her cleavage showed, and I could see the thin lines of her bra through the material.
She definitely filled the dress out more than its owner. My breath disappeared in my throat. She wore the simplest of makeup, a touch of natural-colored lipstick, a hint of color on her cheeks and a hint of mascara that turned her naturally long lashes into fluttering butterfly wings. Probably all she had in her makeup bag in her purse. Luckily, she didn’t need more.
She glanced at me and smiled, lowering her butterfly lashes as a demure schoolgirl would. I couldn’t tell if she was teasing me or what, but the hunger in her gaze as she peered up at me from beneath them belied any outward innocence. “I’m not over-dressed, am I?”
The woman was a man slayer!
“You’ll do,” I said, my voice hoarse, making a lie of my indifference.
She laughed at my attempt at nonchalance. “Thanks, but that’s not what I asked.”
“You’ll be the most gorgeous woman there,” I said lightly, but only too truthfully.
“Still not what I asked, but I’ll take it,” she smiled.
“Shall we?” I said, putting her hand through my arm.
“We shall,” she smiled. “And Dante. Thank you,” she smiled.
***
SOON ENOUGH – THOUGH it must have felt like an eternity for Charlie – the elevator came and we rode it down to the lobby. Moments later, we were outside. The first time in three days for Charlie, who paused to spread her arms. The sun was setting, but the evening was warm, with a strong cooling breeze blowing in from the ocean.
She shivered and sighed. “God, that air feels good.”
I put my hand on her shoulder. She leaned a little towards me. My heartbeat picked up and I slid my hand down her arm before pulling away. “The car’s this way,” I said, pointing to where I’d had one of my bodyguards park the car.
The feel of her skin, so soft and smooth, haunted the back of my mind like a ghost as I led her to the car. I recognized a run-down truck in the parking lot, the kind my guard normally drove when he was out and about. I pretended not to notice. I needed to relax, and keeping track of him wasn’t the way to do it. For tonight, I wanted to be nothing more than an ordinary man having a nice dinner with a beautiful woman.
Charlie hesitated at the car door, as if she recognized it from the last time she’d been inside – thrust in like a bag of groceries. She shook her head and climbed in.
I got in behind the wheel and stuck my key in the ignition. “You know the windows in the penthouse open, don’t you? I know it’s not the same as being outside, but it might help to keep you from feeling so stifled. I showed you where the thermostat was, to turn the air off, so feel free to open them whenever you want?”
Charlie turned her head and looked out the window. “I’ll tell you why I don’t want to open the windows when I tell you about my scar. They’re related,” she teased.
“Ok,” I said, even more intrigued as I raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not telling you until we’re at the restaurant,” she declared, noting the movement. “Gives you incentive, see?”
I chuckled as I put the car in drive. “Incentive, huh?”
“That reminds me. If you want information out of me, you’d better be willing to offer up some of your own,” she declared.
I didn’t dare take my eyes off the road. San Diego traffic was not a thing to be treated lightly. I felt her watching me, her eyes burning into me. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“I’m making it part of the deal. The restaurant’s the setting for our mutual benefit. The information is the true exchange.”
I laughed softly and shook my head. She was so admirable, so intelligently tough.
“You drive a hard bargain. Maybe when all this is over, you can work for me personally instead of the company.”
“No, thanks. My dream isn’t to work for anyone else. I want to work for myself; to be the one on top.”
I bit my lip to keep from jumping on the innuendo. Something in her voice, a little teasing note, told me she had said it that way on purpose.
At last, we arrived at the restaurant; a little French Bistro called Et Voila! located not far from University Heights. The area was famous for the variety of coffee shops, restaurants and boutiques. And of course, for the nearby university.
I pulled up and handed the keys to the valet. He took the car and I turned to Charlie. “Shall we?”
She looked around, seeming a little nervous. I debated on pointing out where the guards were: I could see one already inside the restaurant sitting at the bar; another was in a truck across the street; and the third one was somewhere in the body of the restaurant, as I’d instructed.
I decided against alerting her to all of this. This was meant to be a break for both of us, a moment of relief from reality. Giving her an unnecessary reminder of her captive state would be downright cruel.
At last, she looked back at me and nodded. “Okay.”
We entered the restaurant and were immediately greeted by a hostess in a black-and-white uniform. She might have been pretty. I didn’t really pay attention. My eyes couldn’t seem to make their way past Charlie’s firm, round ass bouncing inside the form-fitting material of the little black dress she had on.
I requested a table overlooking the back deck outside. I know Charlie would have preferred the outside, but being out was risky enough. With two sets of eyes on us inside and one outside – in addition to my own awareness – I felt as comfortable as I could about her safety.
I was glad when she bit her bottom lip in excitement as we were shown to our table. It was a trait I’d noticed about her these last few days. I was glad she wasn’t disappointed at being inside.
The place wasn’t really that fancy, but I recalled what she’d told me about her life growing up and her current financial situation. This was new to her. I wouldn’t ruin it by telling her it really wasn’t anything special. There’d be other places I’d take her that would blow her mind. The futuristic thought startled me. My hands shook slightly as I pulled out Charlie’s chair.
She flashed me a smile and sat. I took my seat across from her.
The table was small enough that our knees brushed together. I shifted slightly to give her space, and she moved to keep touching me. Message received. I stayed where I was, and smiled at her.
The hostess handed us our menus and gave her recommendations on drinks and pairings. I ignored everything she said and selected a beer, while Charlie chose to have a hot toddy and a glass of water.
As soon as the hostess left, I raised an eyebrow. “A hot toddy?”
“What? It’s my favorite drink,” she said, smiling smugly.
“Really? It’s a bit of an odd choice,” I observed.
“I know. But there’s a story behind it.”
“More intrigue? Is your name really Charlie?” I teased, leaning closer. I cupped my hands under my chin, elbows on the table. Bad table manners, I was aware, but I wanted to be in the perfect listening position when she spilled her secrets.
“When I was thirteen, I got really sick. Pneumonia. Like, the real bad kind that you should definitely go to the hospital for. We didn’t have health insurance, so mama told me to lay down and relax while she made me some tea. Well it was taking her so long to come back that I dragged my sick behind out of bed and went looking for her. I didn’t see her, but I did see two mugs on the counter. They both had this yellowish-brown looking liquid in them.”
I knew where this was going. I started to smile.
“I picked one and took it back to bed with me. It tasted weird, but I figured mama had put medicine or something in it. So I chugged it to get it all in me as fast as I could so I could go back to sleep.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing out loud.
“Laugh if you must, but I slept really well that right. I mean, mama was exactly thrilled that I’d just downed a bunch of whiskey. But, she said it must have been the sleep that I needed most because I recovered pretty much overnight.”
“Yep. I always feel better after I drink a heaping dose of whiskey too,” I said, agreeing with her as I joined in her laughter.
“Poke fun if you will but it worked!” she declared.
“It’s probably a placebo effect.”
“I’ll give you that, but all I care is that it works every time like a charm,” she grinned. “Anyway, that’s also the story of how I learned the difference between a glass mug and a hot cocktail glass.”
I laughed. “In your defense, you were only a kid.”
She continued to smile at me and my insides did weird things.
Our waitress delivered our drinks.
I glanced at the menu and then at Charlie. “Do you know what you want?”
“That’s on the menu?” she asked with a barely straight face.
“Charlie.”
“I don’t understand half these words. Pick something for me. But don’t make it snails or something gross like that. I don’t want to have to pull a ‘slippery little suckers’ act like Julia Roberts did in Pretty Woman.”
Our server laughed out loud, even though she tried to keep her professional demeanor by hiding it. I was lost as to what was so funny. All I knew is that it was hard to keep from thinking of this as a date when she was being so naively charming. I quickly ordered us a bread and cheese appetizer, and then chose lamb and sauteed spinach for myself, and seared salmon with garlic mashed potatoes for Charlie. As soon as we were alone again, I leaned back and looked at her. “Tell me the story about this,” I said, touching the space just under her chin. her chin.
“I was nine. There was a cat stuck in a tree near the playground where all of us kids used to play. Me being fearless, I climbed up to rescue it. The little furry bastard jumped down like it was no big deal when I got near. I tried to get down too, fell, and hit my face on a tree root at the bottom.”
Our appetizer came. I picked up the bread knife and started slicing the loaf of bread that had been set between us. “And then what happened?”
“That’s about all there is to tell. I came away from it with this scar and a fear of heights.”
“And that’s why you won’t go near the windows?”
She nodded.
“And you feel like you’re trapped in a cage in the sky?”
“Kinda. Yeah,” she agreed.
My heart went out to her, yet I could only repeat the same old refrain. “I’m sorry Charlie.”
“No sorrys today, ok?” she said, placing her hand over mine. “I’ll be ok. It’s just big heights when I’m near them. But things like the loft don’t bother me – unless I go near the windows.”
“About this whole situation... Charlie...”
“Dante, please. Not this evening. Let’s just enjoy our dinner, okay?” She looked up at me, beseeching.
I honored her request. No part of me could not. I realized that I gave in to her more often than not. She had that effect on me.
And that could be dangerous.
***
“DESSERT?” THE SERVER asked as she cleared away our dinner dishes an hour or so later.
“I couldn’t eat another bite,” Charlie said, pressing her hand to her still-flat middle.
“Bring us one of the Butterscotch Budino,” I said. “With two spoons, and two espressos.”
“Butterscotch Budino?” Charlie asked as the waitress walked away. “That sounds like some kind of children’s cartoon.”
“Don’t ever change Charlie,” I laughed. “I couldn’t let you leave without trying it though. Butterscotch Budino is a very famous Italian dessert. It's a custard, layered with a salted caramel sauce. It’s quite delicious.”
“I love custard and I adore caramel. Not sure about the salt though.”
“But that’s what makes it special. The sweetness of the custard mixed with the saltiness of the caramel sauce is a surprise to the palette. You’ll like it, I promise.”
“Do you always keep your promises Dante,” she asked seriously.
“I try,” I said. “Why do you ask?”
“Tell me exactly what it is you do. Help me understand why you think I’m in such danger.”
“Because you still don’t believe you’re in danger, do you?”
“I believe that you believe it. But I still feel like it’s a family squabble that’s gotten out of hand. I don’t know anything. I don’t see how I could possibly be in danger.”
I leaned back in my chair. Not knowing what my brother was up to made it hard for me to explain to her just how much danger she could be in. Maybe giving her more information would help her to accept her fate for now. I glanced around the restaurant, making sure we had our privacy. I noted that my two men were still manning their stations. I relaxed a little.
“The first thing you need to know is that just because I’m part Italian and the leader of a mob-like group does not mean I have any ties to an actual mob,” I started, wanting to keep this as light as possible.
“Ok,” she said. “Then why do you call yourself a mob boss?”
“I don’t. That’s what others call me and how they classify my enterprise. I don’t have the time or the desire to correct them. Are you disappointed that I’m not Vito Corleone?” I teased, referencing the mob boss in The Godfather.
She kicked me under the table.
“A mob is just an organized syndicate,” I explained.
“Organized crime syndicate,” she corrected.
“Fair enough,” I said, continuing. “What separates us from just a gang of hoods is structure. That’s it. We have order. Focus. Intent. Purpose. It’s not a free-for-all; it’s not run-amok chaos.”
“You could sell snow to an Eskimo, Dante. When you put it that way, it almost sounds like a legitimate business.”
“That’s more or less the point. That’s why a crime syndicate is usually attached to, or affiliated with, a legitimate business as a cover. It operates in connection with the cover business, often providing additional services, the profits of which can be passed off as legitimate.”
Charlie nodded. “So, Grimaldi Tech Security sells computer software. What other forms of security do you offer?”
“Physical,” I answered, flatly. “There are individuals and groups willing to pay for protection that the police won’t – or can’t – provide. Remember, they have day jobs. They can’t be everywhere all the time.”
“So who uses your services?” Charlie asked.
“Adult club owners; what’s considered illegal gambling outfits; medical marijuana dispensaries.”
“Why would medical marijuana dispensaries need your protection? That’s a legal business.”
“Because they move a lot of product, are most often a cash-only operation, and can’t use banks like a regular business.”
“I don’t understand,” Charlie said.
"In spite of the fact that medical marijuana is legally sold, the federal government still classifies weed as a Schedule 1 drug, on par with heroin to give you an idea of how absurd it is. And any bank that handles money from a controlled ‘narcotic’ can be charged with money laundering. Hence, even medical marijuana business owners have no choice but to deal in cash. We’re talking tens of thousands of dollars per day; hundreds of thousands per week sometimes. Having that kind of cash on hand is a dangerous way to do businesses. It illustrates perfectly how ignorant some of our laws are. They haven't quite caught up with enterprise in this area."
"And it's tailor made for the kind of services you provide."
"Exactly," I said. “We guard product and cash, and if either is lost, we usually know how to recover it. An added advantage.”
“And have you had to recover product or cash?”
“There’s always somebody who will try you Charlie. Always.”
“So the answer is yes.”
I nodded my head.
“Have you ever killed anybody Dante?”
Hazel eyes held green ones.
“Never anyone who didn’t deserve it.”
“And who got to make that judgment?” she challenged.
“My business ... what I do; it’s not for the faint of heart. It’s not business for those who deal in regret.”
“I remember,” she said, “you don’t trade in regret.”
“I’ve found it to be a useless exercise,” although I sorely regretted the look in her too-knowing eyes at this moment.
“You seem so normal,” she said, her fingers tracing the top of her espresso cup. “Sitting here. Sipping espresso. Explaining famous Italian desserts. And ... admitting that you’ve taken a life. It’s all so surreal,” she said, a faraway expression on her face.
“Would you prefer that I lied to you?”
“No. You don’t deal in regret. I don’t deal in lies,” she said.
“Then we understand each other perfectly,” I remarked.
“I wouldn’t say that, but we at least have a baseline from which to deal with each other.”
“I’ll buy that,” I said, tipping my espresso cup in her direction.
She tilted her head, and continued to study her cup of espresso.
“Charlie there are people in this world who need things that the law won’t let them have, or thinks that they shouldn’t have – even when others who are considered above the law have those same things. Everything from getting a contract with the federal government, to getting tax breaks the average Joe couldn’t get near. The playing field of business is not level. I help level it somewhat,” I said, needing to take that faraway look off her face.
“I see the value in what you do Dante. Now that you explained it, I really do” she said, looking directly at me. “It’s just ... it just seems so dangerous,” she noted. Was that concern in her eyes?
I caught my breath, an unfamiliar sensation surging through me. It had been so long since I felt this way; accepted and understood. After Stefan’s betrayal, I needed this. I needed her ... more with each passing day.
Would I be able to let her go when this was over?