When She Unravels, page 5
“What do you want to do here exactly?”
I smooth my palms over my lap. “To be honest, I don’t have any specific skills per se.”
“You don’t say,” he interrupts before taking another sip of his whiskey.
I pretend I didn’t hear him. “But I’m the hardest worker you’ll ever meet.”
At this, his serious demeanor cracks, and he barks a laugh.
If he wasn’t laughing at me, I might take a moment to appreciate the rumbly sound, but I’m too busy trying to keep my composure.
“Why is that funny?” I ask.
He swipes his hand over his mouth and skewers me with a no-bullshit stare. “Principessa, you don’t look like you’ve worked a day in your life. What do you know about hard work?”
His words may as well be a punch in the gut.
I swallow down the burn in my throat from his insult and force the next words out of my mouth. “That’s a presumptuous thing to say. You don’t know anything about me.”
“No, but I’ve got eyes and a brain. What I see is that you like to show off your key assets.” His gaze licks over my chest. “You seem to think that’s all it takes for you to have men do whatever you say. Maybe it’s worked back home, but unfortunately for you, in Ibiza, beautiful women are a dime a dozen. If I hired all of them, I wouldn’t have a night club. I’d have a harem.”
Embarrassment coats my skin with heat. “That’s unfair.”
“Life’s unfair. If I was wrong about anything I just said, you would have learned that lesson by now.” He looks away from me, signaling his dismissal.
A foreign feeling starts to build inside my chest.
No. No way. He doesn’t get to dismiss me like that. I’m not going to let him. I’ve let others walk all over me my entire life, but that ends now.
I don’t even know what I’m doing as I slam my glass down on the table with a loud clank to draw his attention back to me. I’ve never stood up to a man like this, never dared to, but it must be my desperation snapping my backbone into place.
“I know life is unfair,” I say angrily. “It’s unfair that men like you get to look down on women like me because of misguided first impressions. Must be nice to have the privilege to shit all over people trying to find honest work.”
He scoffs. “You don’t need honest work when you’ve got a trust fund. Those flats on your feet cost over a thousand euros. Did Daddy get tired of footing your bills? Maybe you should consider reconciling with him before trying to live out some half-baked attempt at independence on fucking Ibiza.”
“Bold statement for someone who’s Daddy probably bought this club for him.”
De Rossi’s expression tightens. “My daddy’s dead. This club is the product of my own blood, sweat, and tears. Which is why it irks me when spoiled little girls like yourself walk in expecting everyone to give them exactly what they want for just putting their tits on display.”
I shoot up to my feet. “You’re a pig.”
He stands up and steps into my space. “No, I’m a wolf. And you’re a sheep that wandered into the wrong pasture.”
My hands curl into fists as I crane my neck to look at his face. Does he think he can intimidate me by unfurling to his full height and towering over me? What De Rossi doesn’t know is that I’ve lived my whole life surrounded by men far more terrifying than him. Physically, I might not be his match, but if he thinks he can make me cower with his words alone, he’s about to be very disappointed.
“I’m no sheep,” I say, enunciating every word. “And I don’t want you to give me anything for just showing up. I want a fair chance, that’s all. Let me work here for a week as a trial. If it works out, hire me. If I don’t meet your standards, I’ll leave when the week is up.”
He trails his bottom lip with his teeth. “Why would I agree to that?”
“Because if you don’t, you’re just a judgmental jerk who gets off on putting other people down. Don’t you want to know if you’re right about me? Or are you scared to be proven wrong?”
“Hardly.”
“Then take the deal.”
A beat drops, and the crowd below us erupts in excited shouts, but De Rossi is still as he considers my offer. I peer into his eyes. Now that he’s finally shut that unbearable mouth, I am once again aware that he’s a very, very attractive man. He really doesn’t deserve those damn cheekbones or that broad forehead or those lips that seem like they’d be surprisingly soft to touch.
My stomach flutters.
A steady pulse appears between my legs.
My God, what’s wrong with me? I’m not here to admire him. I’m here to get a job so that I can keep a roof over my head.
His own gaze slithers over my body, as if I finally convinced him I’m worth a second glance.
His jaw works, and then he nods. “Fine. One week. Be here on Monday, eleven am.”
A slow, triumphant smile spreads across my lips. “I’ll be here.”
“Fine.”
“Great.”
He gives me one final weary look and then makes a small gesture with his hand at someone behind me.
Ras appears at the top of the stairs.
“She’s ready to leave,” De Rossi says after a moment.
“I’ll walk you out.” Ras extends his hand my way.
I take it, and De Rossi frowns. He’s probably already regretting our deal. As I descend the steps, I can feel his devilish black eyes boring a hole through the back of my head.
I already know he’s not going to make it easy, but I’ve survived two months of hell with Lazaro. I can make it through a week with De Rossi, no matter what he throws my way.
CHAPTER 6
DAMIANO
I’m not myself tonight.
The weight in my chest is heavy. The pain inside my head is the kind that has no simple cure.
When I close my eyes, I see flames racing up my mother’s legs as she stands in the kitchen of my childhood home on the outskirts of Casal di Principe. Whenever I smell gasoline, I think of that night.
Whenever I suffer a failure, I remember the screams she made.
“You didn’t need to come in.”
I blink. Ras is sitting on the other side of the desk. We’re in my office, about a hundred meters from the main dance floor of Revolvr, but the soundproof walls ensure no sound seeps in. How is it that I didn’t hear him come in? Cazzo.
“If I wasn’t here, I’d be climbing the walls back home,” I say to my right-hand man. It’s true. I had no distractions to keep me occupied. Which begs the question—why the fuck did I let that girl walk away earlier when I had every intention of making her into my distraction tonight?
Ale Romero. When I saw her down by the bar, I swear, I felt chills. In ancient times, kings would have waged wars over a woman like her. Exquisite face, shapely tits, tight ass, and shiny black hair that nearly reached her trim waist. I could feel the stirrings of madness inside of me. I had a strong suspicion she regularly drove men insane.
My sour mood had lifted when I saw her moving to the entrance of my balcony. I’d been sure she wanted to fuck me right there. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
Most nights, all I have to do is show up, and the women appear. That’s just how it works when you own half of the world’s most famous island—in my portfolio of clubs, hotels, and restaurants, Revolvr is just the crown jewel.
Instead, she’d asked for a job.
That had taken me aback, which doesn’t happen often. I’m usually good at reading people’s intent, but even that skill of mine appeared to be compromised after my shitshow of a morning. It pissed me off. I’d wanted her, but I could just tell she’d make me work for it. Normally, I’d love the challenge, but tonight, I’m in no fucking mood to play games.
I went off on her despite already being hard for her. When she showed a bit of backbone instead of backing down, I did something I could only attribute to my agitated state of mind.
I gave in.
Ras props his ankle on his knee. “If you’re thinking about what happened, maybe we should talk ab—”
“I’m done talking about it,” I bite out. “Did they clean up the garage?”
“Yes, the body’s gone.”
“Good. There’s nothing more to do until we get more information.” Ras knows it as well as me. Hypotheses and suspicions aren’t enough to make an accusation against our don.
He studies me for a moment and then narrows his eyes. “Then what the fuck is on your mind? You’re fixated on something.”
I glare at him. Sometimes, he’s able to read me too well.
I shouldn’t have let her leave. I should have leaned into the wicked thought I had when she said she’d do anything to get the job. Peel off that dress, climb onto my cock, and bounce.
That visual sends a pulse to my groin. It feels particularly filthy, because that’s not how I hire my employees. My morals might be loose by most standards, but I wouldn’t get to where I am by doing stupid shit like that at my legitimate businesses. Reputation is everything in Ibiza.
“It’s that girl, isn’t it?” Ras asks, studying my sullen expression. “If you wanted her, why did you let her go?
“I didn’t,” I say. “She’ll be here Monday.”
That throws him off. “What do you mean?”
“She’s going to audition for a job. I agreed to a week-long trial.”
Ras touches his fingers to his forehead and looks up at me. “Are you fucking serious?”
“I’m really not in a joking mood.”
This earns me a frustrated groan. “What trial? You know I don’t have time for this with everything going on.”
Ras is the only person who’s allowed to speak to me that way. Without each other, we’d both be dead ten times over. Plus, he’s family. Still, when I give him a dark look, he straightens his back and makes a tiny nod. It’s his way of acknowledging now’s not the time to test my patience.
He’s not wrong though. Why the fuck did I agree to this stupid trial? I can call it off, but I don’t like breaking my word. I might as well have a bit of fun tormenting Romero the way the memory of her is tormenting me now. She won’t last more than a few days. If she’s a hard worker, then I’m a fucking priest.
“I don’t want you to spend time on it. Give her to Inez.”
He arches a brow. “Inez? If the girl’s going to be working here, we might as well make her a dancer. She’ll do well with the VIPs.”
The thought of her dancing in front of groups of drunk men spreads a burning sensation through my chest. No fucking way. “I said give her to Inez. If she lasts a week, I might reconsider, though I don’t expect her to.”
He lets out a long breath through his lips. “Va bene.”
“Did you talk to Napoletano?”
“A few hours ago,” he says. “The construction project was greenlighted by Sal this morning.”
“Merda.” Sal’s going to be pouring concrete for a factory that’s on another clan’s territory. Our don is a fucking idiot. I know it, Ras knows it, everyone fucking knows it. And yet no one speaks up. “We’re going to have a war on our hands.”
Ras shakes his head. “You already made your opinion known last month. Leave it.”
I don’t like his tone. “You think I should have stayed silent at the meeting?”
Ras sighs. “You know Sal will never listen to you, even if you’re one hundred percent right and he’s one hundred percent wrong. Speaking up will only make things worse. You pissed him off by questioning his judgement in front of all the other capos at the meeting, and now we have Nelo and Vito here, sticking their ugly noses into our business. Who knows how far he’s willing to go to bring you in line?”
Our eyes meet. Yes…how far?
I lean back into my chair and look at the picture hanging on my wall. Ras, his parents, Martina, and I. It would have been a different photo if Sal hadn’t killed my father and taken his place as the don of the Casalesi clan, one of the most powerful in the Camorra sistema.
My mother would still be alive.
My family would be intact.
I would be next in line.
“He’s going to turn our clan to dust,” I mutter.
“They’ll turn on him before it comes to that.”
I flex my hand. “They need to turn on him faster.” We might have a way to turn the tide, but only if we get the proof we need.
Ras knows what I’m thinking. “I’m on it.”
“Put extra protection on your parents,” I say as I rise to leave. “Just in case.” If it wasn’t for Ras’s father—Uncle Julio—Sal would have killed me the same day my parents died. I was eleven years old, still a kid whose balls hadn’t dropped, but even back then Sal saw me as a threat. Killing me would put his worries to rest, but it wouldn’t be well received by the capos. Clan children were generally off-limits, something Uncle Julio made sure to remind to everyone in Sal’s vicinity.
I was spared.
But the first chance he got, Sal sent me away. To Ibiza.
It’s always been one of the clan’s foreign strongholds—there is no Ibiza without the drugs we provide. Being capo here sounds fine on paper, until one realizes it’s the equivalent of being in exile. Clan business doesn’t happen over the phone or the Internet. It happens in person, in Casal di Principe.
And Sal really doesn’t like it when I go back home.
I bid goodbye to Ras and make my way to the parking lot.
“Take me to the house,” I tell the driver as I climb into the car. Beyond the window, the sky is still dark but soon it will begin to lighten. We pass by the long line of green taxis outside Revolvr, and I catch myself looking for Romero in the queue. She’s not there.
When we drive past the bus stop, I scoff. No way she’d take one of those to wherever she’s staying. What the fuck is she doing looking for a job in Ibiza? A part of me is curious. I’m ninety-five percent convinced she’s just a hot rich girl who decided to rebel and prove something to her family. Grass is always greener. Once she sees what I have planned for her, she’ll run right back to Daddy with her tail between her legs.
But there’s one thing that makes me pause. Inside her eyes, I thought I saw a glimpse of real desperation. Maybe even fear.
What could she be scared of?
I twist one of my rings. When someone’s never been truly desperate, it doesn’t take much to bring that feeling on. That must be it. She’s probably just scared of getting her ego bruised.
With a sigh, I run my hand over my lips. Why the fuck am I analyzing her? Enough. I can’t remember the last time I spent this much time thinking about a woman my dick hasn’t even met.
The closer we get to home, the darker my thoughts turn. I don’t know for sure who’s behind what happened last night, but it’s got Sal’s paranoia spelled all over it. If we can prove our don is the culprit, he won’t have long to live.
A made man outside of the sitting don’s bloodline can take over the position by strangling the sitting don to death with his bare hands. It’s barbaric, but that’s how it’s always been with the Casalese. It takes intelligence and strategy to get into the same room as the don—there’s no one better protected. I’ll have to turn some of his closest friends to my side first, and if I don’t do it right, they’ll run straight to him. I need to show them definitively that Sal is no longer fit to rule.
I flex my hands. It’s a high bar.
But if I want to protect the person most important to me, it’s what I have to do.
People have always told me my level headedness is my biggest strength. I don’t make rash decisions. I don’t act out without thinking the consequences through.
A weaker man would have gone after Sal by now, but I know better. I’ll wait until the perfect moment.
And then I’ll take back everything he stole.
CHAPTER 7
VALENTINA
On Monday, I disembark the bus that stops across the street from Revolvr at ten forty-five am. The surroundings look so different in broad daylight I have to convince myself I’ve come to the right place.
I’m nervous. All weekend, I tossed and turned at night, worrying about De Rossi changing his mind and putting me right back where I started. I managed to spend barely any money in the past two days, surviving on ramen and free breakfast at the hostel, and taking up Astrid and Vilde on their invitation to move into their cheaper shared dorm. Still, neither of those things change the fact that I’m practically broke.
I make my way inside the club through the main entrance.
“Over here.”
I turn in the direction of the voice. It’s Ras. He’s sitting on a stool by one of the bars, a sweating beer in his hand. Dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans and a washed-out gray T-shirt, he almost seems approachable…that is until I register the weary look on his face.
“Hi,” I say in a voice that comes out like a squeak. “Thanks for meeting me. I really appreciate this opportunity.”
He looks like he’s trying really hard not to roll his eyes. “Just doing my job,” he says gruffly. “The scope of which apparently keeps expanding.”
“You don’t usually do this?”
“You mean take on a new staff member after we’ve already hired everyone for the season? No. I don’t.”
Heat blankets my cheeks. “De Rossi agreed to a trial.”
“I know what De Rossi agreed to. Lucky for you, I just transferred an employee over to Laser. You’ll be replacing them.”
My brows knot in confusion. “Laser?”
“Another one of the boss’s clubs.”
“He owns more than one club?”
“He owns half the big clubs on the island. Along with more hotels, restaurants, and condominiums than you and I can count.”
Great. De Rossi is some kind of Ibizan business magnate. If I screw this up, my job prospects here might all but disappear. I bite my lip to suppress a groan. The stakes just got higher.
“You got lucky,” Ras says, jumping off his stool and motioning for me to follow him. “The boss must have been in a particularly kind mood when you met him.”
