Bastiano Romano: A Standalone Mafia Romance Novel (The Five Syndicates Book 4) by Parker S. Huntington (16)

“I’m serious. I’ve got nothing on the Romanos. Nothing.”

It disappointed me to admit it, but it was the truth. My only saving grace was that it was Jenn in front of me and not Wilks or Simmons. Plus, what did she expect? It hadn’t exactly been long. She didn’t have to look so appalled.

She shrugged, placed her pen and notepad down, leaned back on her chair, and kicked her legs up onto her coffee table. “Fair enough. It hasn’t been that long anyway.” Her intelligent eyes studied me, her usually intense scrutiny far more manageable after my exposure to Bastiano Romano. “So, how are you?”

“Fine.”

“Anyone giving you any trouble?”

Bastian’s face instantly popped into my mind, and I forced myself not to flinch. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

In fact, Bastian had been remarkably absent during the rest of my week-long training period. He hadn’t even finished my training. Dana had, and it had been awkward and uncomfortable, to say the least.

Bastian and I had a few run ins, sure, but it was only because I’d been appalled by the amount of waste his restaurant produced and talking to him while serving his dinner couldn’t be helped.

Today was the last day of training before my first official shift tomorrow, and as far as I knew, Bastian wouldn’t be involved. There were already whispers around the staff that he was spending more time than usual on the bar side of L’Oscurità, whispers they somehow attributed to me, though I suspected the timing of my hiring and his increased presence was a coincidence and nothing more.

Jenn clasped her hands together and laid them on her stomach. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

My chest tightened, and I forced myself to remain calm. Jenn knew nothing about my unhealthy fixation with Bastian. My unhealthy, unprofessional fixation, which all but screamed inexperience. And since the bureau was usually inclined to encourage a honeypot scheme, I wanted to keep it that way.

But Jenn was an expert at reading human body language. It sucked to have a psychologist as a best friend. It sucked even more when you wanted to tell your psychologist best friend about the man giving you problems, but she was also your FBI handler, and that man was one of your targets.

For someone who preferred simplicity, my life could be pretty damned complicated.

I drew out my next breath, taking extra time to answer. “The girls are kind of catty.” Truth. “The boys are overly flirtatious.” Double truth. “The work is… tiring. I swear, I can’t feel my arms.” Triple truth.

In fact, my back was killing me, my feet ached from being on them all day, and I hadn’t been able to feel my arms since yesterday during training, when I was asked for the second time that day to carry one hundred and fifty pounds of ice up the steepest set of stairs I had ever seen in my life.

Not so fun fact: The average American bar sells five hundred drinks a night.

L’Oscurità sells five thousand.

Ask me how much ice that is.

Ask me.

I. Fucking. Dare. You.

“There’s a nice massage spa on fifth.”

“You mean the one that charges four hundred dollars an hour?” I looked around Jenn’s fancy office. “I’m supposed to be on a bartender’s salary, and even if I wasn’t, my FBI salary combined with my L’Oscurità salary isn’t that pretty either.” I sat up, winced at the sharp ache in my back, dug through my purse, and tossed my new insurance card her way. “Speaking of keeping up my cover, you can start charging these sessions to my fancy new insurance, courtesy of L’Oscurità’s health plan.”

She looked down at the card, and her posture sagged a bit. “I can’t believe they had you go under with your real name.”

I stared at the framed doctorate degree on the wall behind her, the picture of her and her mom below it, then the row of thick psychology encyclopedias on her bookshelf. My eyes continued to travel across the room, darting everywhere that wasn’t Jenn. “Well, they did. Too late now.”

Translation: Why didn’t you give me a heads up? Did you know? Did you oppose their decision? Did you fight for me? Why didn’t you say anything to me? Why?

Translation of translation: I was still bitter. Probably would always be.

The heavy weight of her eyes burned my skin. “And how do you feel about that?”

Cliché.

Even for her.

I sat up and gathered my things, happy I only had a minute and thirteen seconds left in the session. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

I finally gave her my eye contact. “To who?”

“To you.”

To you.

She was supposed to say, “To me.”

We had been friends since I had joined the bureau six years ago, yet here we were, with a rift so big between us, I could barely see past it anymore. So, why did it feel like only I could see it? Why did it feel like I was in this alone?

I stood up, put my jacket on, grabbed my purse, and headed to the door. I stopped once I reached it and turned to face her. “Look, there’s nothing I can do about it now, so I’m not going to think about it. I’m just going to keep my head down, focus on doing my job, gather as much intel as I can, and try to stay safe.”

Did that sound as impossible as it felt?

“You’re late.”

Dana’s eyes narrowed on my dress, a figure flattering black number that usually made me feel like a Bond girl. But right now, I couldn’t feel anything past the ache in my feet let alone focus on how I looked. The rest of me, thankfully, was numb.

She took a step forward and raised her voice, the sound of it echoing in the employee break room and likely into the hallway, though I suspected that was her intent. “If you’re going to be late, don’t bother showing up at all. That’s not the type of business we run here.”

We.

As in Bastian and her. Her words weren’t lost on me, considering he managed the restaurant and she was a hostess for the bar. That, and the fact that I was actually eleven minutes early.

Which meant Bastian must have been close, and she wanted to make me look bad. Not surprising at all. Dana was a goner as far as he was concerned. Her head was shoved so far up his ass, I was surprised she could still see clearly.

I ignored her, took a seat on Bastian’s chair, and tried but failed to push aside the memories that invaded me as soon as my ass made contact with the buttery leather. The phantom image of Bastian feeding me annexed my mind like an unwelcome apparition.

She watched as I grabbed my Kindle out of my bag and began to read as if she wasn’t still lingering by the door. After all, I had—I checked my watch—nine minutes and forty-nine seconds before my training shift began.

I hadn’t even gotten through a page before Tessie came in, barreled past Dana without sparing her a glance, and climbed onto my lap. Dana wavered in the center of the room as Tessie shifted in my lap until she was comfortable (and I wasn’t).

She grabbed my Kindle from me. “What are you reading?”

I covered her eyes and snatched it back from her. “Nothing appropriate for an eight-year-old girl.”

Still, Dana hovered, uncertainty plain and clear on her face. “You guys know each other?”

Tessie looked up at Dana and squinted. “Who are you?”

“Dana.” She fidgeted. “We’ve met. I-I dated your brother.”

Speak of the Devil.

Bastian entered the room, his presence as demanding as a heart attack. His eyes narrowed on Tessie’s lanky body covering ninety percent of me before he turned his powerful gaze to Dana. “What are you doing here?”

If I were being honest, I was relieved that it wasn’t just me he acted callously toward.

Dana gestured weakly in my direction. “She’s late.”

“No, she’s not. Her shift starts in six minutes. Yours, on the other hand, started twenty-four minutes ago.”

Silence hung in the air, sifting through the tension like an Olympic skier weaving through an obstacle course. Gold. This was pure gold. I mean, I could be mature about it and not enjoy Dana’s suffering, but part of me still believed people got what they deserved and enjoyed when it happened.

“But… She…” Dana raised a futile gesture in my direction. “I—”

Bastian lifted an impatient brow. “You...?” He crossed his arms, and his face was cold as he leaned against the doorframe, his movements almost too casual. “I hope you don’t talk to our customers like that. I wouldn’t want them to think I hire illiterate staff members.”

Jesus.

I was glad that, for once, I wasn’t on the receiving end of his wrath.

A red flush spread across her cheeks. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Her head lowered, marking her defeat, and she left the room in haste, taking with her half of the eleven precious minutes I’d had before my shift was scheduled to start.

I sighed, placed my Kindle back into my bag, ignored Bastian—because fuck him—and stared at Tessie. I kept my voice gentle and soft, so her brother couldn’t hear me speak. “What was that?”

Tessie and I had gotten along during the past week, sure, but she didn’t strike me as the type of kid to just clamber onto my lap out of the blue. She had an ulterior motive, and I would probably be the worst FBI agent in the world if I couldn’t figure out the intentions of an eight-year-old.

Tessie’s eyes were wide and innocent before a small grin slipped past her lips. “I wanted to make Dana mad.” She paused, her brow furrowing in concentration. “I don’t like her.”

“Why not?”

She eyed where Bastian was still standing, arms crossed like an impenetrable fortress, and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “She’s mean. I never get to see Bastian, and when she dated him, she always tried to send me away from him.”

Dana was jealous of the time that rumors made her think I spent with Bastian, and Tessie was jealous of the time Dana had once spent with Bastian at her expense. The irony wasn’t lost on me, except Tessie was an eight-year-old child, and Dana had no excuse for her petty behavior. That, and the fact that everything seemed to revolve around Bastian, even though he clearly didn’t give a damn about anyone but his family.

I leaned back and studied Tessie’s face. I didn’t like her brother. Hell, I could hardly tolerate him on the best of days. But I liked Tessie. She was exactly the type of innocence I had wanted and vowed to protect when I’d first joined the FBI.

I kept my voice low, so only she could hear. “People like Dana—or any other girl your brother is with—don’t matter to him like you do. Whether he tells you it or not, you’re his favorite person in the world.”

I disliked her brother, her family, and everything they stood for, but that didn’t extend to Tessie. She was pure.

At least, for now.

Maybe in a decade or two, things would change, she’d follow in her family’s footsteps, and I’d be the one called upon to arrest her, but until then, she was just a kid. Innocent. Pure. Protected.

She bit her lip. “Really?”

I nodded my head, my smile eclipsing her hesitant one. I’d been honest. I could say a lot of negative things about him, but I would give Bastian this—he loved his family, and he loved his sister most.

I could see it in the way he paid attention to her, doted on her, and talked to her in a manner I’d never seen him use with anyone else. It was a pity she didn’t realize this, but she’d figure it out, and when she did, she’d realize how lucky she was to have a family who loved her—even if it was composed of criminals and the biggest jackass I had ever met.

After all, that was more than I could ever say for myself.

Bastian’s lips formed a small grin. He looked human in the same way celebrities often did—alive and on the same planet as me, yet so far out of reach. “Tessie, you done talking about me?”

“No.”

He rolled his eyes. “Too bad. Ma’s here to pick you up.”

She reluctantly got off my lap, waving a slight goodbye to me before she wrapped her arms around her brother’s legs in a short hug and walked out the door. Bastian stayed in the room, silent for a moment. I met his eyes, my stare unchallenging for once.

I wondered what he saw when he looked at me. The heavy slump of my shoulders? The way I slouched on his seat to dull the ache in my back? The way my legs crumpled to the floor in a lazy, sore mess that I couldn’t find it in me to hold up?

I had no doubt he noticed, inventoried, and processed it all.

That was the type of man he was.

But his expressionless eyes met mine and stayed there. “Why didn’t you defend yourself?” He meant against Dana.

A tired sigh slipped past my lips. “I don’t bother with insignificant things.”

We both froze at my muttered words, the implication clear and heavy in the air. I bothered with him. He was significant. After all, we were always at war, engaged in a never-ending battle, with wits and lust as our weapons of choice.

I longed for my bed. Not my fake bed in my fake apartment. My real one. The one with the wine stain in the corner and the scent of coffee beans infused in the mattress from when my aunt had made me her ridiculous organic coffee stain remover, and I hadn’t had the heart to tell her those words put together made no sense, let alone in a stain remover.

I longed to bury my head in my Tempur-Pedic pillow and wake up a year from now, when the humiliation finally lessened and Bastiano Romano was just a memory I couldn’t shake but didn’t have to confront.

I waited for him to say something.

To deepen my mortification.

He didn’t.

Instead, he nodded his head and turned to the door, but before he left, he shifted to face me. “Oh, and Ariana?”

My palms felt clammy. “Yes?”

Silence drifted between us.

He looked like he wanted to say something important, but he settled with, “Now, you’re late.”

“You’re coming with me,” Bastian stated as he strolled into the main area of the bar.

Not a question.

A statement.

Like I had no choice in the matter.

“Excuse me?” I continued to set up the chairs for opening later, not bothering to face him.

“Who works for whom here?”

“Have you ever been to Brunei?”

“Yes.”

I blinked dumbly for a few seconds before I recovered. “Good. Then you’ll be able to recognize a dictatorship.”

He set a hand on the chair I grabbed, so I’d stop moving. “The thing about dictators is, they don’t care what their subjects think… They will, however, punish those who don’t follow their orders without hesitation.” His voice dipped lower. “Would you like to be punished, Miss De Luca?”

Wow.

Those words actually came out of his mouth.

Instead of fighting him, I pulled my shoulders back and tipped my chin up to stare at him. “You’re insufferable. In any other company, human resources would have a field day with you.”

“Good thing I am human resources.”

He turned and walked out the door without waiting for my reply. I barely had time to grab my phone and sweater before I chased him down the street, running at him like a jilted lover. He didn’t stare at me as I caught up to him, and he slid into his car without opening the door for me.

I pulled the handle of the flattened sports car, and instead of opening outward, it shot upward, nearly hitting me in the face. Amusement gleamed in his eyes as he watched me struggle to slide into the car in my short dress.

I didn’t know how he got his massive frame in here without looking ridiculous. The passenger seat had probably been set for Tessie or something, because it had been pulled as far forward as it could go.

My knees bucked against the glove compartment as I stared at the dozens of buttons in front of me. Bastian could have taken pity on me and moved the seat back, but he didn’t. He started the car and drove off, stopping at a light to eye the top of my thighs as my short dress rose up in my position. My panties peeked out of my dress, but I couldn’t do anything about it, and he wasn’t a gentleman enough to put me out of my misery.

To fit the sleek aesthetic of the car, none of the buttons had labels on them. There were no buttons on the doors either. I twisted a random knob, and a screen slid out of the center console. I pressed a button, and cold air blasted me in the face.

Finally, Bastian pushed the rectangular button nearest to my hand. His knuckles brushed against mine. I sucked in a breath and moved my hand away as fast as I could without looking like I was running from his touch.

The seat moved back. I bit back a groan as I stretched my legs.

“I hate your car,” I told him.

“Duly noted.”

We pulled in front of a building. Tall, shiny, and expensive—like most things in New York. Bastian slid out of the car, handed the keys to the valet, and actually opened my door for me. I took his proffered hand, waiting for him to use it to push me or something.

He didn’t. He’d merely lifted a finger, signaling the valet to wait as he lifted the front trunk of the car, pulled out a pair of Louboutins, and handed them to me. Nude colored, six-inch pumps with the signature red beneath. I’d fall in these if I hadn’t gotten experience in high heels as a stripper.

“Wear these.”

Another order from him.

I shot him a wary look before slipping them onto my feet. He gripped my elbow to steady me. This felt like some fucked-up fairytale. Except, instead of Prince Charming sliding a glass slipper onto her feet, Cinderella got an unapologetic dictator who ordered her to slip on Louboutins as he watched the skirt of her dress rise. At least they were a perfect fit.

When I righted myself, several inches taller now, Bastian’s hand found the small of my back. He led me into the lobby of the building as I tried to convince myself this wasn’t weird. A blonde with a model’s figure greeted us with a smile. Her hand reached out, but Bastian ignored it as he stepped past her.

I sent her an apologetic stare as she scrambled to catch up with us. She ignored me. Rude. The elevator pinged and opened as soon as Bastian pressed the up button. The elevator ride to the top floor—sandwiched between the starstruck blonde and the leery Bastian—felt like torture.

With his hand still on my back, Bastian led the three of us into an office at the end of the hall. People stared with wide eyes as we passed their cubicles, the blonde trotting behind us to keep up.

He didn’t knock as he opened the door. A man sat at his desk. When we entered, he looked unfazed, ending his call without a goodbye.

“A pleasure as always, Mr. Romano.” The man leaned back in his seat, looking powerful with his strong build and salt-and-pepper gentleman’s cut. His eyes raked my body as we approached, blazing a path down my legs and settling on my feet with an intrigued gleam in his eyes.

So, Dictator Charming had a reason for the heels. He had wanted this man distracted, and he got it. I was Bastian’s pawn, and I expected nothing less from him.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bennett,” the blonde behind me started.

“Leave, Felicia.” Mr. Bennett waved his hand toward the door. “I don’t have time for your stuttered apologies.”

She left, and I felt a little bad for her, even though she’d ignored me. Mr. Bennett stood, and instead of offering us a seat, he rounded the table and leaned against it. My instincts told me it was to get closer to me.

I’d been led into the lion’s den by a wolf.

“You’ll understand if I cut straight to the point.” Bastian’s hand lowered on my back, so it rested just above my ass. “My patience is spread thin these days.”

Mr. Bennett’s eyes studied the Bastian’s hand placement on my back. He couldn’t see how low it was from his angle, but I was sure he knew as he spoke, “You want my company to lower the price per barrel of beer for nothing in return. The answer is no.”

“A ten-million-dollar a year account would piss off your share holders.” Bastian’s hands lowered even more, sprawling across my ass. “Remember them?”

I hated how much I reacted to his touch. My thighs squeezed together. I knew Bastian felt the movement because his eyes flicked to me as Mr. Bennett’s narrowed between my legs. I should have turned around and walked away instead of standing here like a pawn in Bastian’s twisted games.

One man wanted me; the other wanted to use me.

“Fine,” Mr. Bennett finally relented, his eyes never leaving my body. “A bargain it is. What do you want?”

I couldn’t believe I distracted him this much. Mr. Bennett’s eyes kept drifting to my legs in these damn heels.

“A twenty-percent reduction in fees and priority selection of inventory.” Bastian’s finger toyed with my thong through the thin fabric of my little black dress. “What would you like?”

“I want her.”

Bastian’s fingers dug into my body as he grit out, “Out of the question.”

“Not for an entire day. Just for an hour. Those lips look like they’d put a Hoover vacuum out of business.”

“You will not disrespect her.”

Mr. Bennett ignored him and jerked a thumb in the direction of his desk. “Sitting on this chair all day while working past midnight bores me, and Felicia on her knees beneath my desk isn’t cutting it anymore. She has thin lips, she couldn’t fit a straw down her throat let alone my cock, and her legs look like stumps in heels. You know how it is.”

Bastian stepped forward, tucking me a little behind him, shielding me from Mr. Bennett’s eyes as he spoke, low and deadly, “I warned you not to disrespect Ariana once. You didn’t listen. I’m killing the contract.”

Bastian had been silent as Mr. Bennett spoke, something simmering beneath his surface. I didn’t know what I expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. Bennett Brewery supplied most of our tap beer. This was our biggest account.

Bennett had been an asshole, yes. I hated him, duh. I hated Bastian for bringing me here as his pawn, too. But he’d just stood up for me. Against a man who essentially made our bar business what it was.

For the first time, uncertainty swam in Mr. Bennett’s eyes. “She’s just a woman. One girl. This is… this is both of our businesses. Ten million dollars of inventory you’d have to replace.”

“Her worth is none of your business, and I have dozens of suppliers who could take your place in a heartbeat. Good luck explaining to your share holders how you lost a ten-million-dollar account because you think with the wrong head.”

Bastian turned and led me out of the room, his hand still on my back, keeping me in front of him, a barrier between me and Bennett. The car already waited for us when we reached the valet stand. Bastian helped me into the car, got in on his side, and started the engine.

We sat in silence as he drove for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry,” Bastian finally broke the silence, his words surprising me yet again today. “The restaurant and bar both keep over one hundred-people employed. This is… was our biggest account. Stephen Bennett raised the price per barrel of beer last month, and I needed him to lower it or I’d have to make cuts elsewhere. Most likely in the staff hours. I brought you here because Stephen loves gorgeous girls with sexy legs, but I didn’t expect him to be an ass to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You’re an ass to me,” I pointed out, my mind unable to process that he’d just called me gorgeous and sexy in one sentence, and he’d done all that for his employees.

It put Bastian in a different light.

One I wasn’t ready to shine on him.

“True,” he admitted. “But it’s different when you like it.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You are delusional.”

“You kissed me when we first met.”

He had a point, so I kept my mouth shut and stared out of the window.

As we drove past shiny building after shiny building, what he’d just done sunk in.

He’d ended our biggest contract because of me.

For me.