Monster in His Eyes(25)

Although it surprises me, nobody bats an eyelash at his playful display  of affection. I wonder if it's because he does this often, if he brings  women around and shows them off to these people, until I realize  nobody's looking. Nobody's watching, their eyes everywhere but on the  two of us, like they're purposely giving him privacy.

A political fundraiser is everything I thought it would be, yet nothing  like I expected. There are tuxedos, and speeches, and a few snooty  people I peg as politicians, but most of the crowd is relaxed. The food  is fancy, the champagne expensive, and the people engrossing. The  atmosphere seems to flow in waves: the first course prim and proper, the  second a little more lax, the third casual, and by the forth everyone's  chatting and laughing like old friends.

Or maybe everyone's just drunk by then.

"Dance with me," Naz says, throwing his napkin down on the table as he  stands. A band is playing some sort of slow melody on a stage across the  room, the floor in front of them clear of tables as couples dance the  night away. I shake my head, but he doesn't notice, or else he doesn't  care, as he pulls me to my feet and leads me that way.

"I don't think this is a good idea," I say as soon as we're on the dance floor.

"Come on." He pulls me into his arms. "Don't tell me you can't dance."

"Oh, I can dance," I say. "I just can't dance to this."

It sounds like elevator music.

He chuckles, placing his hands on my hips to draw me even closer to him. "Just follow my lead."

I wrap my arms around his neck as my fingers tinker with the wayward  curls at his nape. It's easy, mindless, as we really just stand there  and sway. It lasts a good minute before I let out a deep sigh. "Okay,  this is boring."

As soon as I say it, the song changes, the tempo picking up. Naz swings  me around, twirling me, and I nearly fall on my ass without a warning.  Every step he takes makes me stumble, but he doesn't seem to mind, and  I'm just too drunk to care what anybody thinks …  anybody except for him.

He's all that matters.

I'm swaying and twirling, staggering and laughing, tripping over his  feet and he just laughs along with me. He dips me once, dips me so low  my feet come out from beneath me and I land flat on my back. He bends  down, smirking as he yanks me to my feet again, as a male voice cuts  through the music behind me. "Mind if I cut in?"

The voice is rough, not gritty in the sexy way, but more like grating  sandpaper against sensitive skin. I turn quickly, seeing a vaguely  familiar man, a man I've never met before, but I've seen him in pictures  and on the television.                       
       
           



       

The news, mainly.

The front page of the newspaper.

Tucked in the crime section day after day.

His name is a written warning, his face synonymous with 'dangerous'.  Growing up, my mother never talked about the boogeyman in the closet or  the creature hiding under the bed. She told me about real monsters, and  that includes the one standing in front of me.

Raymond Angelo.

The man's question is clearly meant for Naz, although his cold eyes are  on me. He's mid-sixties and graying, tall and stocky. He looks like  leather and smells like cigars.

I'm grateful Naz said he was possessive, because I think there's no way  in hell he'd turn me over to a man like Raymond. My heart pounds hard as  Naz hesitates for a moment before he scoffs. "You wouldn't know what to  do with her if you had her, old man."

Raymond cocks an eyebrow. "Maybe not, but I'd sure try."

Both men laugh.

They laugh.

My heart somehow pounds even harder at that.

Naz waves toward Raymond, introducing us as Ray and Karissa. The man  regards me strangely before his eyes flicker to Naz, holding his gaze,  like they're having a silent conversation than ends in a nod.

Raymond looks at me again. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Karissa. I'm  sorry to interrupt, but I just need to borrow Vitale here for a moment."

"Uh, okay." I don't know what else to say. Naz kisses my cheek,  whispering he'll be right back, as he follows Raymond to the edge of the  dance floor. They chat quietly before embracing and going their  separate ways.

Naz strolls back over to me, his eyes scanning my face. He pulls me back into his arms, acting as if we weren't interrupted.

"Do you know who that man is?" I ask, unable to help myself. I keep my  voice low, not wanting anyone to hear me, especially not Raymond Angelo.  He's notorious. He's dangerous.

How could Naz not know?

He pulls back to look at me. "The better question would be do you know who he is."

"Of course," I whisper. "He's a gangster."

Naz makes a face at my choice of word. "He's an opportunist. A businessman."

"He's a criminal."

"Says the little jailbird."

"I'm nothing like him. I drink, sure, okay, but he … "

"He what?" Naz asks. "What does he do?"

"He hurts people."

"He does," Naz admits. "But he's also family."

I stop moving. "You're related to him?"

"Not all family is blood, Karissa. Remember?"

I gape at him as those words sink in. I guess there's a reason he fears  no one in the city. The ones most people are terrified of are the same  ones he calls family.

"Are you okay?" he asks, that chilling look back in his eyes as he regards me. "Tell me if you're not."

Am I okay? Jesus, I don't know. I probably shouldn't be, knowing what I  know, remembering what my mother told me, but I'm more surprised than  anything. After a moment I nod, and he pulls me closer to him for a  kiss. The feel of his lips relaxes me, tingles creeping down my spine.  It's a kiss of reassurance, a kiss telling me I'll be fine.

I choose to believe it.

I don't want to think otherwise.

He smirks when he pulls back, running his pointer finger across my  bottom lip. "I reserved us a room upstairs. How about we make the most  of tonight?"





The room is modest, the furniture outdated and antique, but it has a  certain charm to it, like I've stepped back half a century. Naz switches  the bedside lamp on to the lowest setting, a soft glow swaddling the  room. It adds a golden hue to the already golden fixtures, illuminating  the tan carpet and matching bedspread.

I stroll through the room, over to the vast window. We're high up,  giving me a wide view of the city, the lights twinkling in the night. I  feel like I'm in another place, living another existence, breathing some  other sort of air as I stand here, looking at the world from a  different point of view.

It's hard to believe, three miles away, my life waits for me to return  to it come morning. I'm Cinderella, wondering if I'm destined for a  happy ending after this.

Naz pulls his jacket off and sets it aside as he strolls over to stand  behind me. My gaze shifts from the skyline to his distorted reflection  in the glass as he reaches for the zipper of my dress and tugs on it.  The sound seems magnified in the silence as he pulls it the whole way  down, his rough knuckles grazing my spine.

It sends a chill through me.

He pushes the dress forward, off my shoulders and down my arms, letting  it drop to the floor like it's nothing. I stand there wearing only a  lacy thong, almost the exact shade as my skin tone.

The woman reflected back at me in the cold glass looks stark naked,  completely exposed and bared for him. It's peculiar, seeing myself that  way. I don't make a habit of checking myself out, but as I watch him  stroke my bare arms and kiss my shoulder blade, I actually find what's  in front of me beautiful.                       
       
           



       

Turning to face him, I step away from the dress and kick off the heels,  regretting losing those extra inches when I have to push up on my  tiptoes to reach his lips. I kiss him softly, wrapping my arms around  his neck.

It's a sweet kiss, slow and gentle. My fingertips tremble against his skin.

He pulls back, surveying me. "You sure you're okay?"

I nod slowly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He offers a slight shrug as his gaze leaves my face and trails down my body. "You want to play around a bit?"

"Yes."

I answer instantly, not even stopping to think what that might mean  until he smirks at me. There's a slight sinister pull to it, like a  predator spotting prey in the distance. I kiss the corner of his mouth,  and try to squelch my flare of anxiety, as he pulls me away from the  window and over to the bed. I run my hands down his chest, reaching for  the buttons on his vest, but he grasps my wrists. "Uh-uh, did I tell you  to do that?"

"You didn't tell me not to."

He pulls my hands away as he leans down, whispering, "Don't."