“But you could have.”
“Maybe.”
I smiled. “You’re good at that.”
“I was a boxer in college. Then I studied mixed martial arts for a while.”
“And now?”
“Now I don’t have much use for it. I’m not getting into bar fights anymore.”
“Did you ever?”
“Once or twice.” He laughed. “Despite my profession, I’ve lived.”
I nodded. “I can understand that.”
“Let me ask you something, Louisa.”
“Ask away.”
“What motivates you?”
I pursed my lips. “I’m not sure.”
“Come on. Something must motivate you.”
I thought for a second. I remembered all those times people took me for granted just because I was a woman. I remembered the patronizing looks, the infantilizing tones, the privileges stripped away just because I didn’t have a dick. Being a mafia woman wasn’t easy, especially when your father was the leader.
“Freedom,” I said. “And power.”
“Power,” he echoed.
“Women have no power where I grew up. It was always the men and their toys that mattered, no matter how smart and strong we were. I couldn’t stay there.”
“I can understand that.”
“How?”
“Poverty is like that, in a lot of ways. Poverty means your ability to do anything is limited.”
“Does money motivate you?”
“No,” he said, smiling. “Only insofar as it gives me what I want. But it isn’t what really motivates me.”
“What does, then?”
“Power. Just like you.”
I smiled. “So we have something in common.”
“We do.” He finished his drink. “Come on.”
“Where are you taking me now?”
He stood. “Back to my apartment.”
“On the first date?” I smirked at him. “Seems forward.”
He walked around the table and pulled my chair out, helping me up. His lips lingered near my neck. “You want to talk business, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I said, looking back at him.
“Good. Come.” He walked toward the door. I followed him, a thrill running down my spine.
Ever since I saw him take that man down, I’d been soaking wet. I couldn’t exactly explain it. Wyatt was supposedly this cool and serious politician, but there was a dangerous streak to him. He wasn’t turning out to be what I thought he was, and that fascinated me.
We walked down the street together, arm-in-arm. We reached his hotel and we went up to his room, the penthouse. When he opened the door, his assistant was sitting on the couch, multiple laptops open all around him.
“Ethan,” Wyatt said. “Pack it up.”
He stood. “Brought a guest home, I see.”
“You can work in the lobby. I’ll be talking to Miss Barone for a bit.”
“Talk, fuck, who cares what you do.” Ethan grabbed his laptops in a stack and quickly left.
I shook my head. “Does your assistant always talk that way to you?”
“Yes,” he said, sighing. “Good help is hard to find.”
I laughed. He led me into the room. I sat on a chair as he poured us each a glass of whisky. He handed me the drink then sat down in the chair across from me.
“Let’s talk business,” he said. “What exactly do you want?”
“You have connections and influence. I have strength and money. I propose we combine our forces.”
“How?”
“I want to go legitimate. Maybe not right away, but slowly I want to convert my sizable force into a real working outfit.”
“Doing what?” he asked, laughing. “You’re mafia.”
“Betting,” she said. “We’d run a casino,”
He shook his head. “That’s not easy.”
“Not yet, it isn’t. But with your connections, you can change legislation. You can get permits.”
“And you can get money.”
“That’s right.”
He nodded. “I can see how this benefits you. But how does it benefit me?”
“You need muscle. You need money. I can provide those things.”
He nodded slowly, sipping his drink and watching me. He didn’t say anything for a long time and I simply sat there, enjoying my drink and letting my idea sink in.
I could tell he was interested, though if he was interested in the business or just in me, I couldn’t tell. He was watching me like a hawk, his eyes digging into my body, scrutinizing my every inch. I felt like he could almost see past my mask, past the years and layers of defenses to the real person buried deep inside of me.
“I’m interested,” he said finally. “I really am. But right now, I don’t trust you.”