Papà and Lazaro might find me at any moment-why not take advantage of my current freedom to really put that whole perfect mafia wife thing to rest?
I tell Vilde and Astrid they’ve won me over, and a few hours later, we start to get ready.
Astrid lets me borrow one of her provocative outfits. Unlike that first night at Revolvr, I decide to embrace showing off a generous amount of skin.
When I look in the mirror, I see a stranger. A woman with silky black hair pulled back in a knot at the nape of her neck. She’s in a blue bandeau top that’s a bit too small for her breasts, and a matching blue miniskirt. Red lips painted on a canvas of pale skin. She blinks at me with long eyelashes that fan over a pair of gray eyes. The eyes seem familiar, like they belong to someone I used to know a long time ago.
When I look into them for too long, other reflections start to flash. The faces of all the people I’ve killed. One layered on top of another, until the composite product is me.
I turn away from the mirror.
Astrid and Vilde pick the perfect moment to tumble out of the bathroom and provide me with a distraction. They take me in.
“You look fucking hot,” Astrid comments, before popping a gum bubble. “I need three more minutes, and then we’ll head out.”
We leave the hostel and get on a bus. The restaurant is called Aromata, and when we reach our stop, I see that it’s right on the beach and overlooks a small bay with calm waters.
The weather is pleasant, with warm air and a slight breeze. Astrid talks to the hostess, while I crane my neck to see past her into the open-air restaurant. It’s bustling, filled with conversation and the steady beat of laid-back techno music.
The hostess grabs a few menus. “This way, please.”
We follow her to the edge of the bar where there are exactly three empty chairs. “Is this all right?” she asks.
“We’ll take whatever we can get,” Astrid says. “We’re lucky. They look completely full,” she adds after the hostess walks away.
I glance at some of the nearby plates. “Food looks great.”
“That bar looks even better,” Vilde says as she studies the bottles on the shelves behind the bar.
A cute male bartender with dark, curly hair comes over to take our orders. “What can I get you, señoritas?”
“A pitcher of cava sangria, heavy on the fruit,” Astrid orders.
“You got it.”
“And we’re from Revolvr,” Vilde says.
The bartender nods. “Can I see your employee cards?”
I give the girls a quizzical look. “What is this for?”
“Oh, we get amazing discounts here because it’s one of GR’s restaurants,” Astrid says as she hands the bartender her card. “Groupo De Rossi.”
My mood immediately darkens.
“I don’t have one yet,” I tell the bartender.
“I’m sorry, but without the ID, I can’t honor the discount.”
“Oh, come on,” Astrid whines.
“My manager will have my head,” he says with an apologetic grimace. “He’s going crazy because the owner’s here tonight. Wants everything to be perfect.”
It’s as if someone tightens a screw in my brain, making everything around me come into sharper focus.
I exhale loudly and spin around.
Four tables ahead of us sits De Rossi.
And he’s staring at me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say under my breath.
He’s at a table with Ras, three other men I don’t know, and three stunning women dressed in expensive clothes and enough fine jewelry to make them sparkle.
De Rossi lifts his glass of red wine and takes a long sip, all the while drinking me in with his eyes. I feel him on my cheeks, my décolleté… My nipples grow hard from a particularly sharp breeze, and I shiver.
Vilde elbows me. “Maybe you can ask Ras to vouch for you.”
I shake my head and turn back around. “Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.”
When the waiter hands us the menus, my eyes bulge. Twenty-five euros for a salad? Fifty euros for a piece of fish? I slam the menu closed and put it on the bar.
The girls feel bad that they didn’t realize I wouldn’t have my ID, so they kindly offer to pay for me, but I tell them I’m not hungry. They’ve been generous enough to me as is. I should have asked to get paid for the week I worked before I left Revolvr, but I was so distracted by the mention of a contract, it slipped my mind.
When the food arrives, my stomach starts to growl, so I excuse myself and go to the bathroom. The second I come out, I slam right into a hard, warm body.
“Oof!”
Strong hands wrap around my waist. Immediately, I know it’s him.
“What are you-”
“Tell me, what did you hope to accomplish by showing up here dressed like this?” he says close to my ear. Close enough for his breath to caress my neck.
My pulse speeds. “What-”
“If you wanted attention, you got it.”
I tug his hands off me. “You have no idea what I want.”
“You like having men’s hungry eyes on you. Is that it?”
“I think you’re just upset I caught you looking.”
My words slam his mouth shut. I think he might leave me alone, but instead, his hand cinches my wrist.
“What now?” I demand as he pulls me in the direction of the bar. People are staring at us, but if he notices it, he doesn’t care. In fact, it’s almost like he wants them to see us together. Instead of taking the most direct route, he walks me all the way around the dining room.