Her hand feels so small in mine, so fragile. One look at her and one touch of her milky, soft skin tells me all I need to know. I’ll still follow orders. I’ll take her hostage. I’ll even send the message to her father once I have her: Drop the case, or we'll send your daughter back to you piece by piece. I’ll do my fucking job, but first? I’m going to enjoy this woman. Get to know her before I’m forced to make her hate me. Because it only took a glance for me to know she’s different. She’s special.

Above everything else, I have to have her.

She isn’t one of the mindless women who float around the crew in hopes of fucking the right guy, waiting to elbow their way up the chain of mafia wives and girlfriends. She’s real, and fuck do I want to have my hands on something real again, even if it’s only for a night, even if It’s going to make what I have to do that much harder.

I put my arm around her unthinkingly, but I let my hand splay across her waist so I can enjoy how small she feels and how her warmth seeps up through her dress.

“Come on, let’s go in,” I say.

I nearly chuckle at myself. My voice sounds stiff, but why shouldn’t it? Whether I want to admit it or not, I can feel this woman already wrapping a choke-hold around me. In my line of work, I can’t afford to get attached. I can’t afford to want.

Normally, I’d have the decency to walk away from Neela before it even went this far. I could practically smell her innocence from ten yards off. I’d know something so sweet and pure shouldn’t be dragged into my world. Corrupted. I’ve spent most of my life working toward getting the Luciani family closer to legit, but it hasn’t been easy work, and it hasn’t been clean. My father’s orders to take this girl hostage are evidence enough of that.

Orders. I already need to remind myself I’m here on a job, like any other. Rule number one is not to let anything come between you and the job. That’s how people fuck up. They let personal shit get in the way and they slip up. In the world of organized crime, slipping up means you’re dead or behind bars. No exceptions.

Wanting her would be a slip-up. Getting attached would be a slip-up.

So I won’t let it be complicated or personal. I’ll just take. I’ll take everything she’ll give me and more. I’ll devour her. Ruin her. And then I’ll do my job, just like I’ve always done.

She’s clearly uncomfortable, but she’s trying her best to look relaxed and make conversation.

“So how do you know Cassie?” she asks as we walk into the restaurant. She’s speaking a little faster than natural, voice coming out tight and rushed. Nervous? You probably should be, sweetheart.

“Cassie?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant. How do I know her? My cousin blackmailed her into setting this date up. If she didn’t do it, he’d send the nudes she gave him to everybody she ever knew. "Friend of a friend," I say. The lie comes easily, naturally. Somewhere along the way, I got good at lying. Too good. The trick is to keep it simple. Don't over explain. Don't plan the lie ahead of time.

The concierge looks startled when he sees me. He flashes Neela and I a somewhat terrified smile and then rushes to the best seat in the restaurant, where a couple is finishing up their dinner. After a quiet but heated exchange, the couple gets up and storms out of the restaurant, not making eye contact with Neela or me as they leave. Everybody pretends not to notice. That's how it works in fancy places like this. The civilized thing to do is pretend nothing out of the ordinary is worthy of attention. It always amazes me how these people can keep their noses turned so far up while still keeping their eyes down—blind to anything but the pointless games they play.

Neela watches them with a confused expression. “What was that?” she asks.

“They must’ve given up our reservation by mistake,” I say. Another lie. I’m already making good headway, I guess. If I don’t want to get attached to the girl, what better way than to start things off with a cozy bed of lies?

“This way,” says the concierge.

Neela still looks concerned after we’ve taken our seats. “Did he kick them out of their seats for us?”

“We could offer to give them their seats back, but if you make me skip dinner, you had better be planning to give me a taste of something else.”

Her cheeks turn a beautiful shade of red. She’s a blusher. My cock stirs when I try to imagine if she’s the type to blush while she’s getting fucked too.

“I don’t—” she stammers.

“You’re used to the games?” I ask. Part of me tries to hold back, to keep things comfortable for her and normal. After all, this could be her last normal night out for a very long time if her father doesn’t want to cooperate. I can’t control it though. I haven’t wanted something as bad as I want the taste of her in my mouth in ages, and I’m not a man who settles for disappointment.

“Games?” she asks.

“We sit down to dinner, go through the motions, you eat, I eat, we make small talk. But I already know I’m not going to be satisfied until I have you. All of you,” I add quietly. “So we can keep playing the game if that’s how you want it, or we can cut to the chase. Your call.”

Her temptation is written so plainly across her features that I could almost laugh. You’re desperate, sweetheart. You’re so fucking hungry for it you probably can’t even think straight.

She clears her throat and stares at her lap for a moment, waving away the waiter when he tries to bring us water and tell us about the wine selection.

“The games, as you call them,” she says finally. Her tone surprises me. She’s bristling with anger, even as I can see her squirming with need, probably so wet she’s soaking her panties. “Are called a date. It’s the difference between grabbing every attractive person you see on the street and just—just—sleeping with them,” she says in a furious whisper, like she’s worried a teacher is going to throw an eraser at her head if she says it too loud. “So no. I don’t want to ‘cut to the chase.’ I don’t even want to pretend I’m helping a friend or have an emergency,” she slams her napkin down on the table and starts to stand. “I’m just leaving. Maybe learn a little subtlety and you’ll have more luck next time.”

All I can do is watch her in amazement. I’ve been with my fair share of women. I thought I’d seen every shape and size. I’ve been turned down and I’ve been cussed out, but the part that is blowing my mind about Neela is I can see how badly she wants to fuck me. She’s in an all-out war of body and mind right now, and I’m impressed as hell that her mind seems to be in control. Granted, I know there’s no way she can last much longer, which is probably why she’s trying to leave. One way or another, I just became a hell of a lot more interested in this woman, if that is even possible. It’s only going to make things harder when I have to kidnap her, but I can push that to the back of my thoughts for now, even if I’m feeling like more of a scumbag by the minute for it.

“Stay,” I say. I make sure there’s a bite of command in my voice, testing how natural her desire to submit might be. Surely enough, she hesitates. From the way her eyes dart to mine, she’s not used to being ordered around, and she doesn’t quite know how to react. “We’ll compromise,” I say. “You get your date. I’ll play nice. And then I’ll fuck you tonight.”

That same shade of red floods her cheeks again. “I’ll agree to the date part. Only because I’m starving,” she adds unconvincingly.

She looks like she’s going to say more, but she swallows it down.

Any other woman and we’d already be tangled up somewhere behind a closed door by now, but this little, innocent thing is managing to put up her walls to me, no matter how flimsy. Before, I was impatient to fuck her, but now? Now I want to let this play out. I want to enjoy imagining how she looks beneath that dress, how good the weight of her tits will feel in my hands and how unbelievable it’s going to be when I get my dick wet in that tight pussy of hers. Most of all, I’m going to enjoy watching the frail walls she’s trying to put up against me come down piece by crumbling piece.

You’re already mine sweetheart. You just don’t know it yet.

I can feel the real me somewhere deep inside rebelling against my plan. If I look deep enough, I can see the man I was before duty shaped me into this… shell. Maybe that’s all I am anymore. A cold, hard shell, because there’s no room for soft spots in my life. The strange part is, I hadn’t even stopped long enough to think about it in years, and it’s only now that I can comprehend how long ago I left myself behind. Despite barely knowing her, Neela stirs that part of me awake, making it crave to come back to the surface and replace the ghost of a man I’ve become.

Careful, I think. She’s just a job. Just another fucking job, and I’m just exhausted after the week I’ve had. That’s all. She’s nothing special.

"Tell me about your job." I lean back, not caring so much what she says but how she says it and how she reacts to the sudden change of pace. Some people can hide themselves in quiet moments, but with the right provocation, even the most stubborn will reveal more than they intend.

She looks surprised for a moment, but recovers well enough. “It’s about what you’d expect. I help animals. The hours are long sometimes but it’s rewarding.”

It’s a surface-level answer, just a rehearsed line she has regurgitated so many times she probably hasn’t stopped to ask herself if it’s true in years. So I wait. It’s an old trick I learned back when I convinced myself I could get an education and maybe find a way to avoid the path my father was paving for me. That was another life. Another me. But some of the psychology classes I took back then still rattle around in my head from time to time, so I make use of what I can. One of the greatest tools in a psychologist’s bag when it comes to getting people to open up is silence. Used correctly, it draws out more truth than any question could ever hope to.

Sure enough, she wilts under the pressure of silence after only a few seconds, speaking more naturally now. "I mean, I guess I always thought it'd be different. I got into it because I love animals, but honestly, it's kind of a horrible job in some ways if you love animals. They don't come to see me because they're happy. They come because they're hurting, and most of the time people don't have the money to pay for treatment or preventatives, so I just have to watch sick animals leave. I have to help put them down when they're too far gone and…" She laughs softly at herself, shaking her head and looking up at me through suddenly watery eyes. "Listen to me. Gosh,” she says, wiping at her eyes.

“I am,” I say.

She watches me a few moments before giving me a small, strange smile. “You are,” she agrees. “You’re doing better now, blind date. Maybe I’ll give you another five minutes on the clock before I pull my escape excuse out.”

“Oh?” I ask with a grin. “I’m on the clock now?”

She purses her lips. “You think you deserve any better after your behavior tonight?”

I clench my teeth to keep from saying what wants to come out, the dirty promises I want to make about exactly how bad my behavior is going to get once I get her alone. The amusement fades when I’m reminded how fucked up it is that I’m doing this with a woman I know I have to kidnap. Even if I tried to back out though, it wouldn’t help. My father would send someone else to do the job, and someone else would get their hands on Neela.

I squeeze my hands into fists under the table at the thought of it. Some other asshole taking her back to his place, probably planning all sorts of fucked up things for her when they see how gorgeous she is. Maybe it’d be Luca, Toby, or even Chase. I don’t know which one would be the worst. Luca would be the most likely to try something slimy. Nico will fuck anything that walks, but he likes his women easy and doesn’t have a hint of taste. And Chase? He’d probably end up charming her out of her dress.

Fuck.

Even thinking about the guys from my crew with Neela has me grinding my teeth and feeling like I need to break something.

I just have to keep reminding myself. If I refuse. They’ll take her instead. They’ll take her and my father might decide to end me for my disobedience. It’s the Luciani way. You’re family until you’re not. Step out of line, disobey the wrong order, make a big enough mistake... Any of it could be your last move, and I have little doubt that my father would overlook something like this, especially from his own son. He’d need to make an example out of me to keep the respect of his men, and he wouldn’t hesitate. We need Neela’s father to play ball. We need him to drop the case. Without his girl on the line, there’s next to no chance he’d ever cave. I briefly consider the possibility of convincing my father to kidnap her sister instead, but dismiss it quickly as it’s just as fucked up an idea as this, and wouldn’t really change how big of a mess this is going to be.

Neela drags me from my brooding when I notice the way she’s looking at me. “Something funny?” I ask.

She shakes her head and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth in a deliciously innocent way. I let my eyes wander from her plump lips to the laugh lines that surround her mouth like faint parenthesis. She must have an easy smile around the people she cares about, and that small fact makes me feel drawn to her like warmth I can't quite reach, a warmth that I shouldn’t reach for.

Seeing a glimpse of her warmth makes me feel cold inside, like in the flicker of an instant, I can feel how far apart our worlds really are. Maybe I’ll charm her tonight and we’ll feel the electricity of chemistry. I’ll probably even fuck her. After though?

There’s only room for ash. I chose my path. I walk in fire and violence. The only things I can hold on to are cold and unbreakable. Neela’s soft and vulnerable. Once I get a hold of her, she won’t stand a chance, and if I greedily drag her into my world, she’ll turn to ash like everything that came before.

I decide I’ve had enough of playing compromise. I’m going to break her heart before the night is over, so why make this any harder than it has to be. I set my napkin down and stand abruptly. I point to the far end of the restaurant, where the manager’s office is. “See that room?” I ask.

She frowns. “The bathroom?”

“No. It’s a room where no one will interrupt us. I’m going inside and I’m going to wait five minutes. If you come inside, you’re mine. Leave if you want, but you’ll always wonder what you missed. I promise that much.”

I turn and walk toward the room, resisting the urge to look back over my shoulder and watch for her reaction. I yank the door open and find Derek, the manager. He's a total fuckup, and if it weren't for my family's financial backing, he'd have run this place into the ground years ago. He flinches in surprise, sees my face, and then half-jumps out of his chair.

“F-fuck, Enzo. You scared the shit out of me. I was just leaving,” he says, putting his back to the wall and scooting out of the room like I’m going to reach out and choke him if he gets too close. I’ve done my best to change the way our family operates, but I can’t outrun the violence in my past, and the echoes of it always seem to travel ahead of me. People who know my reputation act like I’m a wild lion, flinching away, bowing and scraping to fall over themselves and give me what I want.

I pull the door closed and sit on the edge of his desk in the small room, waiting. Part of me hopes she’ll leave, that she’ll sense something is wrong and she won’t just leave the restaurant--she’ll leave the city and never look back. Maybe then she’d make it out of this okay. If she does leave though, she’ll only end up getting picked up by someone else from my crew. Even if I could manage to convince my entire crew to defy my father, he has countless other men he could have do the job.

I run my hands through my hair and sigh. Fuck. As much as I want her to stay away from me and find a safe place to hide out, I know I’ll devour her the moment she walks into this door. I’ll take everything she gives me and use her up, drink her in until there’s not a fucking thing left.

Stay away, sweetheart. Run. Never look back.