Here’s a glance at my standalone novel, Gangster. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 1
A fish with his mouth closed,
never gets caught.
- Tony Accardo
Grace
I snort a little watching Kaleigh cough after she downs her shot of tequila. She doesn’t drink much, especially at lunchtime, but I dared her and she went for it. Exactly why she’s my best friend; she lets me corrupt her just a smidge to keep me entertained, and in return, she lives a life that’s slightly more exciting than one without me in it.
“That was gross.” Her nose scrunches, making my mouth turn up in an amused grin.
We’re in our usual lunch spot—Moricio’s Italian Cuisine. It’s not too fancy and small, but they make food quick enough to eat for a lunch break and it tastes fantastic.
“It’s not bad after you have three or so.”
“No way. You said one.”
“I know. You have to work and I’m not going to carry you back to your cubicle.”
“Gee thanks, you’re so thoughtful.”
“Hey, the burn from the tequila will keep you warm on the walk back. You’ll be thanking me later.”
“If I’m not puking,” she mumbles, sipping her Coke to chase the tingle the tequila left behind.
My lips part, about to reply something snarky about her being too tame, when the small ‘ding’ from the bell above the door announces the arrival of a new customer. We both glance over, my eyes growing wide at the eye candy that just entered.
“Yum,” slips free and I swear Kaleigh makes a choking sound.
“Ho-ly fuck.” The swear word comes out as barely a whisper. If I weren’t sitting directly across from her, I’d had never heard it. “Shhh!”
“Oh please, look at him,” I reply, gesturing my hand towards the man. He commands attention, mine included.
Everyone in the restaurant grows quiet, staring at him standing in the doorway. Four men with his stature and larger enter next, coming to stand behind him. Their presence radiates power, bringing naughty thoughts to mind. I’m not sure of how much work I’d get done at the office if I had to work around men looking like that.
I bet they’re lawyers with enough money to purchase the decent suits they’re sporting with lonely, unmarried lives so they hit up the gym every morning to sculpt those impressive bodies. They’ve most likely won a few cases, forming that cocky, dominant attitude they wear on their faces. I’d do them. Well not all of them, but the first one I saw. His demeanor portrays him as the alpha of the group and that’s just plain sexy.
Whispering again, Kaleigh leans in closer, “Do you have any idea who that is? And stay quiet, be respectful.”
“No clue, and I’m always respectful; it’s not like he’s the Godfather.” My eyes roll at her dramatics, waving her off. I’m a little put off that she feels the need to scold me in the first place. Like my comments are so bad; men are ten times worse when they see an attractive woman.
A strangled noise comes from her throat, making me wonder if maybe she shouldn’t have had that tequila after all. I think I’ll order one for myself before heading back to work. I’d ask hot stuff up at the front to throw one back with me, but I doubt he’d take the stick out of his ass long enough to have some fun. He shouts all work and no play, hence the money to pay for that suit, no doubt.
“That,” she whispers intensely, cocking her head toward the man in question, “is Thaddaeus Morelli.”
“Okay.” I nod. I still have no idea why she’s acting like a fruit loop. So, the last name’s Italian; half of the damn city’s Italian.
“That’s the Joker Grace—in the flesh! He’s a freaking gangster; a very, very bad gangster.”
I snort again, laughing. I can’t help it. She’s crazy. There’s no way that man is a gangster. There’s nothing ‘thuggish’ about him. If anything, I’d be more likely to believe that he’s a prominent, rich businessman in that custom-tailored suit. I wouldn’t think twice about him stealing my purse if I was walking down the street.
He has medium brown hair, slicked back—trimmed short, but not too short—with enough to wind your fingers in. I don’t see any tattoos on him, but if he has any they’re most likely covered by the suit he’s wearing. I doubt they’d be covered though, if he was a gangster. I’ve watched The History Channel and their specials on organized crime before; he looks nothing like any of them. It’s safe to say that if I saw him getting into an expensive car, I’d believe it was his—not that he was stealing it. That is, after all, what the gangsters on The History Channel do. They steal, cheat, bribe, and sell drugs. This man clearly is not a drug addict and has enough money in his pocket to pay for his lunch.
My disbelieving snort must be louder than normal with everyone being quiet, because suddenly I’m in an intense eye lock with the man himself; only he’s not as amused as I am. His gaze is dark and stormy with unmeasured anger. He could probably blow someone up with that lethal look. I don’t know if he wants to skin me alive or yank my skirt off and go to pound town.
Swallowing, my throat grows dry at the glower. And so help me, my dumb ass wants to roll my eyes to push his buttons, curious to discover what he’ll do and see if I can make that scowl become even darker. I’m not normally so self-destructive, but Kaleigh’s proclamations have my stubborn side rearing its head.
I can make out my best friend in the background, still murmuring details as I have a stare down with one of the finest men I’ve ever seen. “Everyone calls him the Joker, but it’s not because of his love of laughs; it’s the opposite. He never jokes with anyone. He’s not even nice and he doesn’t speak to regular people.”
That gets me. I blink, breaking the stare off and meet her gaze, “Um … regular people? You mean like you and me?” She nods her head just a touch, not wanting to move and call attention to herself. “What a dick,” I grumble and she gasps at my blunt but truthful reply. Shortly after, my arm warms.
You know how you get the prickly feeling when you can tell someone is watching you and sometimes your cheeks heat? I have that, but also the uncanny suspicion that he’s not simply staring at me anymore, but like his body’s physically near me. I can feel his presence as if he’s sucked all the air and energy out of the room.
Inhaling a deep breath, I turn to my left and damned if I wasn’t right. I knew I felt someone approaching us when I questioned her about being ‘a regular person.’ Sure as fuck, I glance up, and it’s him—right beside me.
He glowers down at me with golden irises blazing, full of intimidation. He’s a broody one, I can already tell, and for some odd reason I find it incredibly sexy in a man.
When I get nervous or irritated, I tend to get a bit sarcastic, so before I think about my words, I let a little snark come out. “I’ll take a refill. To go, please. Oh, and the check. Thanks.” Turning my head away quickly, I push my glass closer to the edge of the table and bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t babble, concentrating on pushing my food around my plate.
I can’t believe I just let that come out of my mouth. So much for the shot idea. I have a feeling he may lose it and get us kicked out before I can reunite with my old friend, Jose Cuervo. Or else Kaleigh may pass out from hyperventilating and make me tote her ass back to my office.
The restaurant’s so silent, you can hear the refrigerator kick on behind the waitress area.
I swallow again, trying not to exhale to loudly.
A throat clears, but I keep my head still and count to myself.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Holy shit.
Seven.
Holy shit.
What number was I on?
Five of the longest seconds I’ve ever experienced. My self-coping method of counting out random numbers comes to a smashing halt when warm fingertips brush my chin. They’re soft and careful as they gently turn my face toward him again—the movements commanding, but not forceful.
His voice is low, almost gravelly, like he’s not used to speaking or perhaps he’s used to yelling a lot. He is Italian, after all. “Your bill is taken care of, Bella.” He licks his bottom lip. “I will send someone with your drink.”
Pure sex. That’s what comes to mind when he speaks. I would climb him like a goddamn jungle gym right now if the circumstances were different. I could fucking die. Legit, just keel over after hearing the sexy rasp that no doubt matches his beautiful face. I bet his body’s insane under that suit, no flaw about him. And that accent, definitely Italian.
My hands clench into fists as I stop myself from doing the sign of the cross, thanking God for creating a man so divine to look at and listen to.
I’m too embarrassed at my rude behavior—at the entire scene and knowing that everyone is staring—to meet his gaze. Barely nodding, mimicking Kaleigh from earlier, I keep my eyes trained on the rich texture of his deep blue tie. It’s nearly black, but there’s a hint of color that I can make out with the hanging light over our table. It’s one of my favorite colors, but that’s irrelevant right now.
“Th-thank you.” My reply comes out quietly, damn near sounding like a choke, all too aware of everyone’s attention. I’ll probably never be able to have lunch here again after this. That means a farther walk and less time to eat, thanks to me not listening to my friend and not keeping my thoughts and noises to myself.
His fingers slip away, his demeanor radiating disappointment from me not looking at him. He wanted me to challenge him. I know it. I also know when to tuck my tail and shut up. He didn’t deserve my bitchiness.
Kaleigh said to be respectful. That should mean me not meeting his stare, right? It’s hard to think at all—about anything—with him so near, the only thing on my mind is his smell and how fast my heart is beating. I’m surprised you can’t hear the rapid thrum as the organ thunders away under my breast.
Men don’t just randomly come up and touch me, and in that spot? It was a more of a caress. That alone says so much about him. My friend’s right; he’s different.
Most guys would touch your shoulder or place their hand a little too close to your breast or even your ass. However, he chose two fingers, right under my chin. He wanted me to meet his gaze like earlier, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Having him near, snuffed out my bravado and scattered my thoughts, not an easy feat when it comes to me.
God, he smells so fucking good too, like rain mixed with alpha male. Pheromones such as those should be bottled up and sold. I’d dump that shit all over my pillow at night. How can you possibly think when a man smells like that?
He’s remains standing beside me for a moment longer, almost as if he wants to say something else, but refrains. I wish he wouldn’t have held back. I wanted him to speak some more, even if it was merely to tell me to fuck off. I want to hear that voice again so I can commit it to memory, along with those furious golden irises.
The door chimes, and this time when I look up, he and the other men have left.
The restaurant buzzes with excited chatter in the aftermath, as if they can’t stand to remain quiet a moment more. Kaleigh just stares at me like I’m a glitter-covered unicorn giving out free donuts that she’s never seen before or something.
A Styrofoam cup with a lid secured and a new straw is placed down in front of me. “Ma-ma’am,” the server interrupts nervously. “Anything else? A piece of Tiramisu or a cappuccino, maybe?”
She wasn’t so friendly before. Not that we minded anyhow; we’re used to her since we eat here a few times a week. You’d think she’d know us by name by now, but like I said, she’s not that kind to us usually.
“No thanks. Just our bills please, separate if you don’t mind.”
“It’s been taken care of, along with anything else you’d like.”
“So, if I wanted to stay all afternoon, sitting around, drinking your most expensive liquor, I wouldn’t get a bill?”
She shakes her head, black hair secured in a tight ponytail. “No. You wouldn’t get a tab for the rest of the week either.”
“Whoa, what do you mean, exactly?”
“I was instructed that your bill is paid, and that if you returned again this week, then it would be taken care of as well.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No ma’am, not even a little.”
“Wow—” I should get a bottle of wine or something to take with me.
Kaleigh interrupts, “Well, thank you. We should go then.”
“Right, I have to get back too.” I agree with her and the server walks off without another word.
Collecting our things, we head out the door. I don’t know what to say. I have a million questions running through my mind now, and it’s all a bit overwhelming, rendering me speechless.
“Maybe we should get you a cab back to your office,” my friend suggests, making me pause.
“It’s gorgeous out here; I’ll save the fare and walk. You should too.”
“Look Grace, I’ll be frank. Those aren’t the type of people whose radar you want to be on. You need to be careful. My God,” she mutters quietly, closing her eyes for a moment, her hand going to her forehead as if she still can’t believe it. “He spoke to you.”
“And? He’s just another guy. A gorgeous one at that, but he was in the flesh, you said so yourself. You act like you’ve seen a freaking ghost or something. He wasn’t rude and just bought us lunch. Maybe he’s not so evil.”
“No, you don’t get it. He doesn’t do that sort of thing. The Joker doesn’t pay for people’s meals or act like they even exist, but today he calls you beautiful and then pays for your food for an entire week. I’m scared just from being at the same table with you.”
“You’ve never had a man buy you a meal before? And how do you know so much about him?”
“Of course I’ve been taken out to dinner, but never by someone like that. I don’t know too much, honestly. But there are stories and I’ve heard my fair share of them. Please listen to me, Grace, just this once, and be careful—at least for a while.”
“I love you, Kayleigh, but I have to get back. We can talk more about him later, okay?”
“You’re not going to listen to me, are you?”
Shaking my head, I’m honest with her. I always am. “Probably not.” My mouth turns up in a grin, as I squeeze her shoulder affectionately. “I just don’t see what the big deal is. But, I’ll talk to you later and you can try to convince me some more, okay?”
She nods, worry in her gaze as I turn away. She clearly doesn’t care for my response, but she knows me. If she tells me not to do something, I’m going to want to know why and in some cases figure it out for myself. It’s like that Jelly Bean game, Bean Boozled. After playing it with her nieces, she warned me never to try it. So naturally I did, wanting to see what the fuss was about. It was all fun and games until I got the puke flavored one.
The walk back to my job is pleasantly quick and I hate to admit it, but I do check over my shoulder a few times. I feel like an ass by the time I get to my building though. I learned a long time ago that rumors are just that—rumors and nothing more. Well, usually anyhow. In this case I think everyone was being a little melodramatic. People love a good story to get worked up over. The guy was a businessman, maybe not completely straightlaced, but I highly doubt it’s what Kaleigh was saying.
Why would she lie about it, though? She would never do it on purpose, but she does buy into that shit the realtors she works for feed her. That’s probably where it all came from.
“Hey, Grace, have a good lunch?” Keisha, the receptionist asks as I step out of the elevator. She’s worked for the same marketing company as I have for nearly ten years. She’s a curvy, mocha-skinned, vivacious woman with one of the biggest hearts around.
“It was interesting, that’s for sure.”
Her full lips pull up into a curious grin, as she catches me off guard, “Well, maybe it’ll get more interesting then. You had a delivery about five minutes ago.”
“Really? From who?” I rarely get surprises. I wonder if my mom sent me something. It’s not my birthday or anything though.
Her smile grows more until she’s beaming, full of excitement for me. “Wouldn’t leave a name and said his boss wanted you to have something beautiful.”
“No way!” She has to be teasing me. I haven’t been seeing anyone in a while for a man to be sending me something. It must be my mom.
“Go look on your desk.” She wags her eyebrows and I damn near skip to my door with curiosity.
Sure enough, there’s a large bouquet sitting right in the middle of my desk. The flowers are encased in a thick crystal vase, swirls and hearts expertly carved into the base. It’s not something you’d find in a regular florist; it had to have cost a fortune and been made specially to order. There must be fifty lilies, all a deep violet color—the exact same shade as the shirt I have on.
Whoever sent them knows how to pay attention to detail, or else this is a strange coincidence.
The small, light gray piece of cardstock tucked into the arrangement draws my eyes away from the stark color. Carefully, I work it out of the prong holder, bringing it closer. In small Modern number twenty font—I know this because of my experience in design—there’s one word printed, black and bold. It’s enough for a cold chill to crawl up my spine, heeding my friend’s warning from earlier.
Bella
Holy shit. There’s no possible way, they’re from him. None. He knows nothing about me.
“So?” Keisha asks, causing me to jump at her voice. “You okay, girl?” Her eyes light up in amusement.
“Yes, um, they don’t have a name. Are you sure they were for me and not Rose? Wasn’t it her anniversary or something?” As beautiful as they are, I’d feel better right now discovering that they were delivered to me by mistake. Naïve, I know, but it doesn’t hurt to ask.
“Yeah, it was last week. Besides, the guy that delivered them gave me your name specifically, so those gorgeous flowers are all yours.”
“Oh. Great,” I mumble sarcastically. If only Keisha knew why it was so disturbing, but I’ll keep what happened to myself. No need to freak her out. Kaleigh would fall over, too, if she were here right now.
“You don’t seem too thrilled. If it were me, I’d be thinking of a special way to thank the man who spent a grip on them—maybe with my mouth.” She winks.
They are beautiful and a thoughtful gift from whomever they came. Not to mention they smell fantastic. But thanking him with my mouth is most likely the last thing he wants at the moment. I can’t believe I was rude earlier and then he sent flowers. Who the hell is this guy?
“Or did he fuck up? Do I need to hurt someone for you? I will, if he cheated. I’ll dick punch him for you.”
Laughing nervously, I shake my head, “No, nothing like that. But thank you, it’s nice to know that you have my back.”
“Always girl, you just say the word.”
“Thank you, Keisha, it means a lot. If I figure out who they’re from, I’ll be sure to thank him.”
“Oh my God! You don’t know who they’re from? Shit! You have a secret admirer, this is so cool.”
Nodding, I send her a brief, shaky smile. She has no clue that it could be from a certain ‘supposed’ gangster, according to Kaleigh. Hopefully he’s just a rich guy with a good secretary to be able to find me like that. I should send him a quick email at least to thank him for the blooms and the lunch.
The phone starts ringing so Keisha hurries back to her desk, leaving me with my thoughts.
First thing I’m doing is moving these damn flowers from the middle of my desk. Picking up the heavy vase, I start to put them on my small side table against the wall, but can’t push myself to move them that far away. Instead, I place them on the right corner of my desk.
They’re too lovely to not enjoy having them close by. There’s a small leather couch pushed against the wall next to my door, my two matching leather office chairs, my desk, and my own chair. Not really a good spot for them in here, although they sure do make it feel more welcoming. Maybe I should get a plant or something to keep in here regularly to liven things up a bit.
So, he wanted me to have something beautiful and chose the same color as my shirt. How ironic that it’s also one of my favorite colors. I love violet, fuchsia, and really dark blue, just like the deep blue color of his tie earlier. I’m a woman, and I’m allowed to have twenty favorite colors if I want and when these choices are paired together, the colors look even more vibrant.
First, he buys me lunch and now flowers? I can’t be one hundred percent sure that they’re from him since he didn’t sign the card, but I’m not dense. I know inside that he sent them. Most women would be creeped out by it or head over heels already, but not me. I don’t know what to think about it all or what he wants and I hate the uneasy feeling that comes along with it.
If he’s as notorious a Kaleigh seems to believe, then I’m a little apprehensive garnering his attention. But if he’s not … well, then, he’s just another boring rich guy throwing money at me. Why do I have to be so hard to please when it comes to men? I want some excitement, but I also don’t want to get hurt. I suppose that’s most women though; however, they eventually end up settling on someone mediocre and I refuse to.
I had a nice boyfriend a while back. He had a good job and was pleasant. He also had a receding hairline, judged people based on their net worth, and thought that doing ‘the helicopter’ in bed was the way to satisfy me. Ugh. He didn’t last long and I’m happier being single than sharing time with someone like that. My B.O.B has more of a personality.
I’m twenty-nine, unmarried with zero children. I know I’m not ‘the norm,’ but I wanted a career and the right man never came along, so here I am. Only getting older. By my mother’s reaction to my nonexistent love life, you’d think I was on my deathbed or something. She wants grandbabies and with the amazing life she’s always worked hard to give me, she deserves some grandchildren. Hopefully, one day I can make that wish come true for her, but until then, I’m pretty happy with my life. I don’t need a man to make things better, but it would be nice to have someone to share some free time with.
Once I’m home and settled, I try calling Kaleigh before I jump into bed, but she doesn’t answer. I chalk it up to her sleeping already, but part of me wonders if she’s too scared to talk to me on the phone now too? No use in worrying; she’ll come around. We don’t ever go without talking for more than a few days, so I’m sure she’s fine.