Calisto
Dragging a hand through his hair, Calisto leaned back in his seat and observed the two people talking a couple of tables beyond his. His coffee was long gone, his plate empty, and he itched for a cigarette.
The nagging voice of his mother wasn’t too far behind his craving for nicotine. She’d always hated his habit, and never failed to point out how unhealthy it was.
Calisto had never been able to explain to his mother that when he smoked, his problems drifted away with every drag and exhale. Like a foggy cloud that he blew into the air, his stresses floated off his shoulders.
He’d cut back on the cigarettes since his mother died a year ago. Even his mother’s heart attack hadn’t been enough to scare him away from the little death sticks. More often than not, he found himself digging out the pack he kept inside his jacket and lighting up. He could forget the blood on his hands, the demands of his uncle, and the expectations of la famiglia for a brief while.
Simple.
Easy.
Calisto blew out a heavy breath, trying to tamper down his restlessness. Keeping an eye on Affonso and his new fiancée was boring as hell. It wasn’t like he’d expected the trip to Vegas to be particularly interesting, but he’d hoped that the Sorrento principessa might give his uncle a decent run for his money when it came to getting her down the aisle.
Something to make this trip worth his time.
If there was anything Calisto enjoyed, it was watching his uncle squirm. Affonso didn’t find himself in awkward positions very often. The man’s middle name was control. When Affonso mentioned the marriage arrangement a couple of months ago, Calisto thought his uncle was a fool.
Nothing good could come from the Sorrento Cosa Nostra, female or not. Hell, even Maximo Sorrento’s only son had been a useless fuckup before his death, known for his hothead and heavy hand. Calisto didn’t understand his uncle’s reasoning for wanting to tighten their ties with the Vegas syndicate, but it wasn’t his place to question Affonso on that.
As consigliere to the Donati dynasty, Calisto simply had to keep Affonso happy. A happy Affonso was a happy famiglia.
And when his uncle was happy, he stopped pestering Calisto every chance he could. There were things his uncle wanted from him—things Calisto refused to do. If he trusted his uncle, it might be a different story.
Out of the corner of his eye, Calisto caught sight of his uncle’s jaw clenching. That was never a good sign. Anger didn’t look good on the Donati Don.
The Sorrento principessa was twenty, to Affonso’s almost fifty. Knowing the girl’s age and family, Calisto went looking for more information on her. Curiosity was a killer. Calisto knew about death better than anyone. A little looking and a few questions filled him in on everything he needed to know about the girl and where she came from.
A spoiled woman.
Kept and pleased.
Primed and waiting.
The girl didn’t seem to have much direction in her life. She’d taken a few college classes, but mostly she enjoyed the Vegas nightlife, her status in one of Nevada’s most elite families, and her free-range lifestyle that wasn’t actually free at all.
Calisto hated a wasted effort.
He figured that was exactly what Affonso’s arrangement would be with the woman—a waste of damn time. Affonso wanted an heir of sorts, a boy specifically, but if the man hadn’t yet produced one with his dozen mistresses and his twenty-five-year marriage, he probably wouldn’t ever have one.
And now Calisto was going to be stuck babysitting his uncle’s soon-to-be bride while the girl worked her anger out on whoever she could for the next month.
How fun.
Emma Sorrento, however, was proving to have a wide spectrum of personalities. In just the few hours that Calisto had been shadowing Affonso and Emma, he’d watched the young woman go from quiet and reserved, respectful and jittery, to having peeks of fire in her eyes. At this very moment, she had a back so straight it spoke entirely of anger and indignation.
Don’t worry, dolcezza. Affonso has that effect on everyone.
Calisto chuckled dryly.
Maybe the girl would even grow to like it after a while.
Or maybe not.
Either way, it wasn’t Calisto’s problem.
The rapid beat of fingernails against wood brought Calisto from his partly amused but mostly annoyed thoughts. Emma drummed her manicured fingernails on the table in quick succession as Affonso looked her over. From his position, Calisto could see the young woman’s heel beating against the floor. Her other hand balled into a fist at her side.
Affonso looked entirely bored but somehow irritated at the same time. The man had little patience for women, and his reserve lessened the younger the woman was. In fact, he had such little desire to deal with younger women—barring the bedroom—that he even sent the daughters he publically recognized away to boarding school, just so he wouldn’t have to manage them.
Whims were fantasy, after all.
Didn’t women like that sort of thing?
Affonso had no time for it.
This is not going well.
With a flick of his wrist, Affonso silently dismissed the woman across from him without even saying a word. Emma stood quickly from the table, grabbed her bag and tweed coat off the back of the chair, and bolted in the direction of the front of the restaurant.
The flyby of the woman’s dark brown, wavy hair, the grim set of her full lips, and the flash of heat in her green eyes was all Calisto caught before she disappeared around the partition. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but it couldn’t have been good.
“Good God,” Affonso groaned.
Calisto watched his uncle rub at his forehead, squeeze his eyes shut, and clench his teeth.
“Trouble, zio?” Calisto asked.
“Oh, don’t start, Cal,” Affonso snapped without opening his eyes.
Calisto smiled to himself, knowing damn well what the issue likely was. Emma Sorrento was not bowing to his uncle like most women did when faced with Affonso Donati. Usually, women found themselves entranced by Affonso’s handsome features, curious about his lone wolf personality, and then were surprised to see the monster behind the mask.
Affonso had hoped to easily ensnare Emma so that the transition from Vegas to New York would be a simple one for the girl and the families.
“She’s … frustrating,” Affonso muttered to himself. “Combative. Argumentative. Young.”
“You picked her. You thought she had a pretty face, if I remember correctly.”
And she did.
Emma was a beautiful young woman, there was no denying it. Her trim, petite figure held sweet curves that would make any man feel like he was protecting her just by holding her. Her pixie-like features and wide eyes only added to the appeal. Her top lip was slightly larger than her bottom, and her two front teeth were just big enough to peek out so that it looked like her mouth was open for the taking. The heels she wore added a bit of height to her short five feet, three inches.
It wasn’t like the girl radiated innocence. Not with smooth, bare legs traveling out beneath a flared dress, hinting at the curve of her thighs and the swell of her ass. And certainly not with a mouth that looked like it was ready to be used or filled.
Calisto’s throat tightened momentarily as his thoughts flew by. He tampered down the sudden heat flaring in his groin and readjusted his seat on the chair.
Admitting he found his uncle’s bride-to-be attractive was one thing. Feeding the attraction was quite another. One that would find him in a grave next to his murdered father and dead mother.
He surely didn’t need that.
“A pretty face will only go so far when the attitude makes her ugly,” Affonso said quietly.
Calisto openly frowned. “Is it attitude, or stubbornness and unhappiness?”
“Is there a difference?”
Not to Affonso, maybe.
Calisto thought there was.
“Besides,” his uncle added, waving flippantly, “… I know exactly how to make women like that happy, Calisto. They’re like all women.”
“Shovel nice things at them to distract their whims with possessions,” Calisto said.
“Exactly. She’s difficult now, but that’ll only last so long before her tune changes. Once she realizes how much she will have and what she can be given if she follows my rules and expectations. She’s been a princess her whole life—time to start acting like a queen.”
Not all women wanted to be queens.
Calisto didn’t correct his uncle.
“Where did she go?” Calisto asked. “Aren’t I supposed to be keeping an eye on her for you?”
“To the bathroom. I think she can handle that business alone, Cal.”
Whatever.
It was Affonso’s problem if the girl ran.
“The dinner party is in a few hours,” Calisto informed his uncle.
Part of his job was making sure Affonso knew where he had to be, while also taking care of the man’s wants and needs for la famiglia. While in Vegas that part of his job was pushed to the side as there were no men to handle, but Calisto still picked up the slack elsewhere.
“Mmm,” Affonso responded noncommittedly.
The man’s attention was somewhere else entirely. Like on the swaying, tight ass of the server across the room.
Calisto resisted the urge to snap his fingers. Once Affonso caught something he liked in his sights, the man went after it without hesitation.
“Your bride-to-be will be coming back soon,” Calisto said dully.
Nothing.
Not even a blink.
Affonso pursed his lips, then smirked as he caught the eye of the early-twenties waitress. The Donati charm was flicked on like a light switch. In a blink, Affonso’s hardened features darkened. His posture softened enough to make him seem approachable, and he waved at the woman, asking her over.
The girl came.
Calisto wasn’t surprised.
“Would you like another drink?” the girl asked.
Affonso’s smirk melted into a wide, pleased smile. “No. I had a thought and I wanted to ask you about it.”
Amusement danced on the woman’s features when Affonso hooked a finger in her direction, silently asking her to come closer. She did, just like a little moth following the pretty lights.
“Tell me,” Affonso said, “how old are you?”
“Twenty-two, sir.”
“Young. College?”
“Yes.”
“Working on what, exactly?”
“Business, mostly, but some arts.”
Affonso laughed. “Arts will keep you amused through the boring business nonsense, at least.”
“It’s worked so far, sir.”
“I bet,” his uncle murmured. “Tell me something else.”
Calisto sighed harshly.
His uncle loved this game.
“What else?” the girl asked.
“Student debt. I imagine you owe quite a bit, hmm? That’s probably why you’re working here. Part-time student. Full-time worker. That must be difficult.”
“I’m doing okay, but it’s still tight.”
“Sure,” Affonso said quietly. “Come here.”
Hooking his finger again, the girl dropped down so that Affonso could whisper something in her ear. A disgust welled heavily in the pit of Calisto’s stomach and the bitter taste of hatred rested on the back of his tongue.
The young woman’s eyes widened and her teeth cut into her bottom lip.
The offer was made.
Calisto watched this scene a dozen times before.
Give me a few hours, his uncle would say. Whatever I want, however I want it, wherever I want it. Give it, and I’ll fill a blank check with whatever number fits your fancy.
“When are you off?” Affonso asked.
The girl swallowed hard and glanced at the wall.
She was the typical victim for his uncle’s amusement. A young woman, likely a little naive. Financial stability was welcome to anyone, and wanted desperately.
Self-worth or money? Calisto was never surprised at how easily people would decide between the two.
“Ten minutes, actually,” the woman said. “I have a couple of weekend classes and the restaurant works around my school, thankfully.”
Affonso nodded. “Four hours. Forty-thousand. I think that’s worth missing a couple of classes, don’t you?”
Indecision flickered over the woman’s features, but only for a quick second.
“Yes,” she said.
Affonso smiled. It was nothing like his earlier grins. This one was far more predatory. “Wonderful. I have the black Benz in the parking lot with a driver. Be there in twelve minutes, no later, or I drive away.”
“Yes, sir.”
Calisto shook his head as the waitress spun on her heel and made a beeline for the back of the restaurant.
“Like flies and honey,” Affonso said to himself.
“You know, a hired escort or a prostitute will do the exact same thing, uncle,” Calisto said. “You don’t have to make that girl question her choices and her self-worth for the rest of her life, just for the sake of a quick fuck in the back of a Benz while Arthur watches.”
Affonso flashed his teeth in a wicked sneer as he stood from the table. “How do you know I want a quick fuck this time, Cal? Her ass caught my eye first. And I plan on filling it.”
Cristo.
Calisto’s expression never wavered. “And the other one? What about her?”
“Which one?”
“Emma,” Calisto clarified. “The one you brought here. The one you’re marrying. What am I to do with her while you’re fucking some new girl in the car you drove Emma here in?”
“You have the rental Mercedes. Amuse her for the rest of the day.”
Calisto’s jaw tightened. “Amuse her?”
“I didn’t stutter.”
“And what about your absence? How do you want me to explain that away?”
Affonso shrugged. “Why bother? Don’t lie to the girl. She might as well start learning now.”
Nope.
Calisto still wasn’t surprised.
Calisto leaned against the wall, propping his foot behind him. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips, demanding to be lit and enjoyed. He planned on doing exactly that once he got out of the damned restaurant.
Emma had been hiding in the bathroom for quite a while. Calisto wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing in there, but the last woman who left the space assured him a dark-haired, green-eyed girl was still inside.
Two more minutes passed.
No Emma.
Calisto’s patience withered away. His job was to keep an eye on the woman, but it sure as fuck didn’t include feeding to her emotional waves. She could handle her tantrum at another time. One where his time wasn’t being wasted waiting on her.
Knowing there were no other women inside the bathroom—as none had gone in since the last entered and left—Calisto pushed off the wall and opened the swinging door. He didn’t make it two steps inside before he turned into a statue.
Emma had perched herself up on the bathroom counter. Maybe he expected to find her crying her little eyes out and having a hissy fit of epic proportions, seeing as how her life wasn’t working out the way she wanted.
Instead, he found her puffing on a cigarette, her creamy, smooth legs crossed, and her heels tapping a beat to the tiled counter. Not a lick of her makeup was smudged to say she’d been crying. Her hands remained steady as she fluffed out the waves of her hair with her fingers. And she seemed calmer than she had earlier.
Calisto pulled the cigarette from his lips with two fingers. “Christ, if you wanted a cigarette, you could have just gone outside.”
Emma didn’t even look up from her lap. “What, did he send you in to find me, Calisto?”
His name rolled off her tongue in the most interesting way. She’d said it with an almost disinterested flair, except for the ring of sensuality following close behind.
He’d noticed that about her, too. When she spoke, her voice held a sexual quality. She probably didn’t even realize it.
If Affonso thought he was getting a virgin for a bride, he was highly fucking mistaken. Calisto could tell that Emma wasn’t pure, just by the way she spoke and watched him under her dark, long lashes.
Women who were unaware of their sexuality didn’t watch men like this one was watching him.
“Affonso didn’t send me in for you. He’s gone.”
Emma arched a single brow high. “Oh?”
“Sì.”
“Good.”
Calisto couldn’t help it, he laughed. “Your resentment is showing.”
“It’s not a resentment. You can’t force yourself to like a person. He reminds me of a pig.”
More than she knew.
“Or maybe a snake,” Emma added quieter.
“Both could work,” Calisto said before he could stop himself.
Emma dropped her still burning cigarette down the drain of the sink. Uncrossing her legs, she pushed off the counter and dropped onto the floor with a click of her heels to the tile. Just the action alone gave a flash of more skin and black lace.
Calisto’s mouth went dry and his cock perked. Squeezing his hands into tight fists, his nails bit into his skin. He reminded himself of exactly who this girl was and why his attraction was entirely inappropriate. He then reminded himself that he wouldn’t like the taste of bullets when a gun was shoved down his goddamn throat.
His inner thoughts didn’t help much when Emma turned to the mirror, leaned over the sink a little, and dabbed at her pink lips with her fingertips. The slight pout of her upper lip, showcasing a hint of those two white front teeth, looked downright sinful.
What man wouldn’t notice that?
You’re going to get yourself killed, like your father, his mind taunted.
“I like red lipstick more than this pink garbage,” Emma said absentmindedly.
It didn’t sound like it was meant for him.
Nonetheless, Calisto still heard it.
He thought red would look better, too.
It might make her mouth look even more fuckable. It would leave little red stains around the base of his cock when he fucked her mouth hard enough to reach her throat.
Jesus.
What in the fuck was wrong with him?
Emma grabbed her coat and clutch. “Where did Affonso go?”
Calisto hesitated briefly. Earlier, the girl seemed ready to cut tail and run. Like she was out of her fucking league and knew it all too well.
Now, he was looking at someone entirely different.
He’d done his research.
He knew a bit about her.
Calisto didn’t think Affonso knew nearly enough.
“He picked up a waitress,” Calisto said, settling on the truth. “She’s probably in the back of his Benz right about now.”
Emma sneered into the mirror. “Likely wishing she wasn’t.”
“You’re not angry?”
She glanced over at him. “Why would I be? As long as he’s fucking someone else, then he’s leaving me alone.”