I slotted my fingers through hers. They were cold to the touch and slightly shaky. “Then let’s get going.”
“Ah, excuse me.” I tightened my hand when she tried to break my hold. “What are you doing?”
“We’re dating. This is what couples do when they date.”
“We are?”
I tugged her against my side. “It’s part of the plan. Go with it,” I whispered against the crook of her neck, enjoying the feel of her soft skin against my lips and the ever-present hint of lemon in her hair.
She shuddered, then tipped up her chin and started walking again. “I already know I’m going to regret this.”
“Nah, this is gonna to be fun.”
My dad would shit when he realized I brought Carmela here. Gian had stolen a handful of our high rollers last year, which pissed him the fuck off. Unfortunately for him, he’d have to bite his tongue when it came to Carmela, and let the enemy roam freely in his kingdom because I was following his orders like a good little soldier.
He wouldn’t shut up about moving forward with my engagement with Carmela, and I was finally giving him what he wanted. I invited her into our den of iniquity. She could see firsthand what being tied to the Russian mafia meant. That alone might make her run screaming into the night. Although she had a brother and father elbow deep in the dealings of the Trassato crime family, there was no way either of them let her get anywhere near the action. They liked to keep their women in a bubble and blow sunshine up their asses until they ended up in prison or dead.
I nodded to the bouncer standing in front of the door to the basement, and he held up his hand.
“She on the list?”
Glaring, I released Carmela’s hand. “She’s with me.” I cracked my knuckles on one hand then the other.
“You know how Mr. Trincher is about sticking to the list. I’d hate to piss anyone off.”
I closed the distance, coming nose to nose with this punk. “Yeah, and I don’t give a shit. She’s with me, and that’s all that matters. Do I need to explain how things work around here? I have final say on the guests now, not my father.”
Over the last year, I’d taken over the gambling and black market export side of the business while my dad concentrated on the seedier stuff: drugs, particularly heroin, and human trafficking. After the shit that had gone down with Laney, I didn’t want anything to do with pushing drugs.
My dad wouldn’t give that up if he were on his deathbed. He loved playing God, warping futures, and ruining lives, and drug importing and pushing was where it all started for him. They were his roots. The other stuff—the more sophisticated crime and scams—came later. They were my brainchild. Where my dad was about muscle and pushing vices, I was about numbers and the chess game of outsmarting the system, finding loopholes, and exploiting weaknesses.
Groaning, he punched a code into the pad on the door and opened it. “Have a good night.”
“We will.”
CHAPTER SIX
Carmela
I paused at the foot of the stairs, my eyes adjusting to the dim lighting and the plumes of smoke. The sickly sweet stench of cigars burned my lungs, the steady drum of music shook the floors beneath my feet, and the roar of conversation and laughter bombarded my ears.
Women clad in boy shorts with glittery star pasties on their breasts glided around the room carrying trays filled with drinks held high over their heads. But instead of the attention being focused on those women, it was on me. Greedy eyes crawled over me like I had unknowingly volunteered to be their next snack, and the hair on the back of my neck lifted.
“What’s this place?” I squeezed Kon’s upper arm, my fingernails digging into his rope-like muscles, so hard and firm.
My mind pleaded with me to take off. I wasn’t naïve. While my family had their hands in illegal gambling rackets and all sorts of other unsavory crap, I didn’t want to see it firsthand, and I definitely didn’t want to waste my Friday experiencing it.
His arm locked around my torso, his fingers landing on the bare skin near my waist. I clenched my teeth, willing my reaction to his touch away, yet for some godforsaken reason, goose bumps pebbled my skin.
“A place for the guys to let off steam after a long day of work.”
“I want to leave.” I shifted closer to him, plastering my front to his side. I’d crawl inside him if he’d let me. That’s how bad I didn’t want to be here.
“You’ll be fine. Do you like blackjack?” he answered, his lips a hairsbreadth from my temple. A shockwave arrowed straight to my belly.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Perfect.”