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His face darkens instantly. “Twelve? I told you twenty, you stupid girl. Twenty thousand.”
I desperately wish that Zip were here, or even Don Pirelli. Anyone to stand between me and Gino’s growing rage.
“I don’t have it all,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “You knew twenty thousand would be too much. You set me up to fail.”
Gino’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Set you up? I gave you a number. It’s not my fault you can’t deliver.”
He takes a step toward me, and I instinctively back away. The tension in the air is palpable, and I’m acutely aware of how alone and vulnerable I am.
“Please,” I try one last time. “We can work something out. The twelve thousand, plus maybe some kind of payment plan?—”
“Payment plan?” Gino scoffs. “This isn’t a department store, sweetheart. You don’t get to negotiate.”
“I really don’t have it,” I repeat, my eyes darting to the door, hoping for a miracle.
Before I can react, Gino’s hand shoots out, gripping my arm with bruising force. “You think you can play games with me?” he snarls, shaking me. “You think you can cheat me?”
My heart races, and I try to pull free, but his grip tightens, “Please, Gino, I?—”
He cuts me off with a backhanded slap across my face, the force of it sending me staggering, Pain blossoms in my cheek, and I taste blood.
I scream, more out of frustration and fear than pain, and swing my fist at him. He dodges easily, laughing as he catches my wrist and twists it painfully. “Feisty, aren’t you?”
I try to kick at him, desperate to break free, but he blocks my attempts, shoving me against the wall. Panic floods my senses as he looms over me, his face a mask of fury. “You think you can fight me, little girl? You’renothing.”
Suddenly, the door opens with a crash, and Don Pirelli storms in, a dark and furious presence. “Let her go, Gino,” he commands, his voice cold and deadly.
2
ANGELO
The moment Jimbo told me about Gino Timpone’s threats against Perfezione, I knew I had to intervene personally. Zip Saldano might be harmless in the grand scheme of things—except when he’s at the poker table, where he’s fleeced me, Romero, and my father more times than I can count—but he’s a fixture in this neighborhood.
More importantly, he’s undermyprotection, whether he knows it or not.
I stroll into Perfezione, expecting to see Zip’s weathered face and hear his gravelly chuckle. What I’m not prepared for is the vision that greets me instead.
She’s standing behind the counter, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. Dark, wavy hair cascades past her shoulders, framing a face that could launch a thousand ships—or start a war between Families. She’s a goddamn Helen of Troy.
Her eyes, deep and expressive, seem to pull me in, promising depths I long to explore. And those lips… full and luscious, they beg to be kissed. She’s curvy in all the right places, her body a perfect hourglass that makes my mouth go dry.
When she speaks, welcoming me to the shop, her voice is like warm honey, sweet and rich. It takes all my self-control not to visibly react. I introduce myself, watching as recognition flickers in her eyes. She knows who I am, what I represent, but there’s no fear in her gaze—only a mix of respect and something else, something that makes my pulse quicken and heat go straight to my dick.
As she leads me to the fitting area, I can’t help but watch the sway of her hips. She moves with a grace that’s both elegant and down-to-earth, a combination I find irresistible. When she starts taking my measurements, I’m hyper-aware of every point where her hands touch me. Her scent envelops me—an intoxicating mix of gardenia and coconut vanilla that makes my head spin.
I can’t help but flirt with her as she works. The way she blushes, the slight tremor in her hands when they brush against me—it’s clear the attraction is mutual. Our conversation flows easily, punctuated by moments of charged silence that speak volumes.
When she tells me to call her Fee, it feels intimate, like she’s inviting me into her world. I savor the way her nickname feels on my tongue, already imagining whispering it in more private settings.
As I admire her handiwork in the mirror, I’m struck by how perfectly the suit fits, how she’s managed to accentuate my best features with just a few pins and tucks. It’s a testament to her skill, and I find myself even more impressed.
Leaving proves harder than I expected. I overpay for the suit deliberately, using it as an excuse to come back soon. As I walk out of Perfezione, my mind is racing. I came here to deal with a threat, but I’m leaving with thoughts of dark eyes and gentle hands.
I need to see her again. Soon. And not just because of Gino’s threats. There’s something about Fee that’s got me hooked, and I’m not sure I want to fight it.
Yet as I slide into the back of my waiting car and my driver and bodyguard, Marco, starts the engine, I find myself already planning my next visit. The taste of danger has never deterred me before, and the promise of Fee’s smile is a temptation too strong to resist.
My phone buzzes, and I answer it without checking the ID, my voice sharp and authoritative. “Pirelli.”
