Chapter 5 The Man Behind the Curtain

Eleni

I whirl. There, on an even softer looking leather couch, wearing another pitch-black suit, sits Dante. He smiles slightly as he swirls a glass of some dark liquor and looks me up and down.

"Um," I say.

He stands and prowls closer. My heart hammers against my ribcage.

"You shouldn't be here," he murmurs.

"What?" I blink. "I have the same right to be here that all those other girls do."

Dante chuckles, low and teasing. I gulp.

"You actually don't." He circles around behind me. "Piacere is my club, and everyone knows the Calimeris family-including their charming daughter El-belongs to the Lombardis."

The rage that ignited in me when I saw Baba in the kitchen flames back to life. "My family doesn't belong to anyone. And I didn't know this was your club. I don't know anything about you."

He circles back around so I can see him again and opens his arms wide. "I'm an open book. Ask me anything."

I mean to ask him why I'm back here, what he wants from me. But I've never been good at confrontation. "What are you drinking?"

"Scotch. A particularly good one, if I do say so myself." He holds the glass out to me. "Care for a sip?"

I've only ever had a few sips of my parents' wine at dinner, and I can't stand the taste of rotten grapes. But the way Dante looks at me, like he already knows I'll refuse him, frustrates me. I grab the glass from his hand and knock back a sip.

I begin hacking as the liquor sears a path down my throat. I'm on fire. How was he drinking this and having a conversation?

When my coughing finally slows, I realize Dante is rubbing my back in small circles. His hand is warm and calming, but he's a boss. I shove the glass at him and take a step away. "That's the good stuff?"

"I guess it's a little strong for the uninitiated." He takes a sip and savors it. "If you ever get a taste for scotch, come back. I promise you'll enjoy it more."

"Come back?" I stare at him. "You can't kick me out. I need to go back to the auction. I need the money."

He sighs. "I can't send you back. Someone already bought a night with you."

Relief washes over me in cool waves. I don't know why I didn't have to get up on the stage like the other girls, but I've done it. I've done everything I can to save my family.

"For how much?" I ask.

He smiles. "How much do you think?"

That teasing smile again. I cross my arms. "More than five thousand."

"You're right about that." Dante chuckles as he walks back to the couch and picks up an envelope laying on the arm. "Fifty grand for you to go home and spend the night with your family."

My knees go weak, and I sink onto the couch. Fifty grand. That has to be enough to cover Frank, maybe even enough to get us ahead for next month. But...why would someone want me to just go home?

"You paid for me?" I say slowly.

He nods. His dark eyes burn into mine like he's trying to communicate something.

Dante is a boss. No matter how smooth or handsome or young, he's the same type of person as Frank Lombardi. If I take this money and leave, I'll only be moving who owns my family.

"No," I say. "I'll owe you if I take that."

He sips his scotch and sits on the other side of the couch. "Why?"

"I know better than to accept money from people like you." I climb unsteadily to my feet. "There are always strings attached."

"You're a smart girl, but naïve." He smiles at me. "If I wanted you to owe me, I'd say that. Consider this...a get-out-of-jail-free card. Take the money and go."

His smile, his plush lips parting over his perfect teeth, starts to cloud my mind. But I can't lose focus. Mama and Baba need me.

"I came here to auction off my virginity." I smooth my hands down my dress. "I've made my peace with that. I won't fall into a mafia boss' debt instead."

His dark eyes go somehow darker, liquid. "Then spend the night with me, if it'll clear your conscience."

The fiery anger I've been feeling all night drops lower, between my legs. I didn't know what sort of man would buy me, but Dante is hardly the worst I imagined. This close, I can see the very beginnings of fine lines around his eyes and mouth. Smile lines. Baba said he was Frank Lombardi's rival. That feels fitting, to get my family out from under Frank's tyranny. We need this money.

I take the envelope from Dante. It's heavy in my hands, all cash, certainly more money than I've ever held before. Maybe enough to get Frank to go away forever. I tuck it into my purse and turn back to Dante.

"Will you tell me what the money's for?" He sets his glass on a side table.

"No." I grab the zipper at the back of my dress and pull it down. My good funeral clothes puddle on the floor around my feet.

Dante stares at me with those burning eyes, and I fight not to blush. I knew what I was getting into. A man was always going to see me in my underwear, matching but plain gray because I didn't have anything sexier. But somehow, with his gaze on me, it feels different. He stares like he's looking through me, seeing underneath my skin. Before I can lose my nerve, I climb into his lap and press my mouth to his.

His lips mold to mine, soft and warm and tasting like the shred of flavor I actually got off the scotch. In his mouth, I don't mind it nearly as much. He rolls his hips up into me, and I grab his shoulders for balance. His suit feels like the nice sweaters I can never buy in department stores. He grabs my hips, his hands hot but somehow gentle.

A noise I've never heard myself make before pours from my lips, something low and needy. I start to blush, but Dante pushes his tongue into my mouth. I always thought French kissing sounded awful, but he moves in a way that chases all those assumptions from my mind. He pulls another moan out of me and tangles his tongue with mine.

Distantly, I hear tinny music. He releases one of my hips and pulls away from the kiss to answer his phone.

"Cattaneo," he says.

He listens for a long moment, then nods. "I'll be there shortly."

I stare at him. What?

"I'm sorry." He pecks me on the cheek. "Business calls. Take the money, please." He rolls his hips again, and I feel something hard between us. "Maybe I'll just call in a favor someday."

Gently, he dumps me off his lap and leaves the small room. I stare at the door for what feels like an hour, then finally pull my dress and coat on with shaking hands and leave. I got all the money I could've hoped for, and I didn't even have to lose my virginity.

So why do I feel so disappointed?