Page 32 of Vows of Blood

"Looking good, Sienna," one of the regulars calls out as he passes. But there's something off about his comment, a hesitation that wasn't there last week.

Without breaking rhythm, I nod, pretending I don't notice the way his pace slows as he debates whether to stop and chat. Just like I don't see the two women by the water fountain whispering behind their hands, glancing in my direction.

Maybe they know I work at Bellini’s and heard about what happened.

Or maybe it’s the good-looking Italian man in a sharp suit standing in the corner, being intimidating as hell as he glares at anyone who even looks in my direction, that’s attracting their attention.

I hit the bag harder, letting the thud of each impact drown out everything else. When I finally stop, arms trembling, I allow myself a moment to regroup and to plan.

Today is about getting my life back on track, because I need to do it fast. I'll shower, change, and start applying for jobs. Any job. One that comes with tips or pays daily would be ideal.

Then I'll visit my landlord, explain what happened, and beg for an extension. He's not a monster. If he’s seen the news, surely he'll understand that I was caught up in circumstances beyond my control.

Hopefully.

I unwrap my hands and roll my shoulders, already feeling better, and a bit more like myself. I’ve been in dire straits before. I can do this. I just need to keep moving forward. There’s always a way.

Tony is waiting by the door when I emerge from the changing room, hair still damp, gym bag over my shoulder. He could at least try to look inconspicuous, maybe wear normal clothes, but no. Apparently, blending in defeats the purpose.

Or so he told me when I tried to convince him I didn’t need a babysitter.

He wants anyone following me to know he’s there.

Not that I think hiding him will work. Everyone in the gym dips their head in deference to Tony, seeming to already know who he is, and that he’s someone to be respected.

It’s annoying as hell.

I don't acknowledge him as I push through the door and out onto the street. He stays a few paces behind me, not my friend but my shadow. Halfway home, my patience snaps.

“Would you just walk beside me, please? This is weird.”

I give him my best disarming smile, but he simply shakes his head, continuing to scan over my head like he’s guarding the head of state.

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter.

This entire thing is ridiculous, even though I know it’s not Tony’s fault that he works for an overbearing asshole. I have places to go and people to beg for employment, and Tony is going to make that impossible.

How am I going to get a job with him lurking behind me? Maybe more importantly, I don’t want him reporting back to Luca on how shitty my life is.

I still have some pride.

“Are you technically working for me now? Do you have to do what I say?” Turning, I rest my hands on my hips and stare up into Tony’s handsome but scarred face. A burn mark runs along his jaw, dipping down below the collar of his starched black shirt.

“Absolutely not.” He waves a hand in the direction I was traveling, furrowed brows drawn together, encouraging me to keep moving.

“But you’re reporting back about everything I do?”

Tony hesitates before giving me a very politically correct answer for a mob enforcer. “Everything relevant.”

“Relevant…” I tap my lip and stare at him considering that very specific word choice. What does Luca Calvano think is relevant?

“So, if I went on a date, you wouldn’t have to tell him that, because it has nothing to do with the shooting, but if I went to the police or the press…”

Tony blinks, suspicious eyes narrowing. He appears to think I’ve lost my mind.

“I would suggest to you, Ms. Fox, that all of those would be very bad ideas,” he says slowly, like he’s explaining something very obvious to a child.

Hmmm.