“'Herself?'” Gio echoed. “It's a she?”
Mario rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they give law degrees to women now, ain't you heard?”
Gio heard the door of the restaurant open and the sound of footsteps approaching the back room.
“This is probably them now,” Mario said, standing up and gesturing for Gio to do likewise. “And try to watch your mouth around this broad, okay? She's a real lady, not one of those spaced-out bimbos you like to use for punching bags.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” Gio asked.
“Never mind what it means,” Mario snapped, “just behave and keep your hands to yourself, understand?”
The door opened and Louie waddled in, followed by a woman in her mid-twenties. Her auburn hair was impeccably styled, without a single strand out of place. Her suit was sleek and no-nonsense, her high heels looked sharp enough to kill, and her full lips were painted blood red.
But Gio had developed keen instincts when it came to women, and it wasn't her clothes or makeup that hypnotized him as she entered the room. It was the way she carried herself—she looked so proud and confident, so above it all.
Her green eyes projected a fiery independence, like a wild horse that refused to be tamed or saddled. She looked like a woman who would rebel against any attempt to degrade or humiliate her, and the promise of that rebellion made her all the more attractive to him.
Gio had never desired anyone more in his life, and as they shook hands and his nostrils filled with the scent of her perfume, he knew he would do absolutely anything to have her in his Special Room.
“Carolyn Aspen,” she said. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mancini. I look forward to working together.”
Chapter 7
Carla
Carla felt a strange sense of surrealness creep over her as she looked into Gio's eyes and shook his hand. She'd only been undercover once before, in a minor role as a drug buyer during another agent's sting operation, and she wasn't used to giving a fake name when she introduced herself.
Also, being in the same room with Gio and feeling his palm pressed against hers after spending so many months staring at his photograph made her world feel like it had turned upside down. Even though she'd dealt with plenty of criminals in her career, she somehow expected Gio to be different—to exude some otherworldly aura of sinister menace.
Now she realized how silly she'd been to think that. He'd killed her partner and he was a bad person, to be sure, but he was still only a person, no more evil than the dozens of lawbreakers she'd arrested before.
The most peculiar thing of all, though, was how much he lived up to the nickname “Handsome Gio” in person. Carla realized that during all those hours obsessing over his photos, her anger and grief had caused her to project a kind of malice onto his facial features. His eyes had seemed cold and dark, and his lips had seemed curled into a perpetual sneer.
But now that the same face was right in front of her, smiling and animated, there was a boyish charm to his features that she couldn't help but find alluring.
“Please, call me Gio,” he insisted, flashing his straight white teeth in a movie star smile. Flirtation danced in his eyes like sunlight shimmering across the ripples of a pond, and if it were anyone else, Carla was sure her own eyes wouldn't have been able to resist flirting right back at him.
Snap out of it, Carla scolded herself. This isn't some magazine model you're shaking hands with. He's a thief and a killer, not to mention a sadist.
She felt torn. If she played it too icy, Gio wouldn't feel comfortable enough to confide in her about his crimes and she wouldn't be able to gather the evidence she needed. If she played it too friendly, he would almost certainly get the wrong idea and she'd find herself dodging his sexual advances, which could get messy in terms of getting the job done.
Inwardly, she bitterly cursed the fact that male undercover agents didn't have to deal with these kinds of problems.
“Gio it is, then,” Carla replied, hoping her smile was professional and genuine without seeming flirty. She sat down, and the others did as well.
“So Louie,” Mario said, “where have you been hiding this bright young woman? How come I've never seen her before?”
Louie's face flushed, and Carla saw his stubby fingers twitch nervously near the buttons on his shirt, as though he wanted to fidget with the mic on his chest.
Goddamn it, Louie, can't you try to keep it together for just a few minutes? Carla thought angrily. You lie in front of judges and juries almost every day of your fucking existence. Can't you muster up a halfway-convincing lie now?