Eva

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If I wasn’t standing so close to Carmine that I could feel his heart beating in almost the same erratic rhythm as mine, I’d think he’d received a fatal blow. He clenches his jaw, making him even more dangerously fetching in his tux. The first thing one notices about him is an air of importance that’s stamped all over his face and is also evident in the way he carries himself. I can’t call it simple arrogance, though he’s definitely arrogant enough. This guy must be someone influential among these people.

I inch sideways so that I can no longer feel the heat of Carmine’s imposing, coiled frame, realizing I need to shake him off before I do anything else; he’s the one who scares me more.

Regrettably, another man distracts Roman for a moment and starts firing questions at him. When Roman turns to him to respond, I attempt to dash away, but before I can take one step, Carmine seizes my hand. The way he holds it appears proper, but his grasp is forceful as I inconspicuously try to wrench free.

Without moving a muscle, he glances at Roman, saying quickly, “Might I have a dance with your girlfriend?”

Roman nods, preoccupied.

No, no, no. “I was just going to—”

His grip strengthens, and he leans into me, his eyes storming with impatience. “Don’t even think about saying no.”

And he tugs me along, guiding me into the multitude of people grinding against each other in the center of the room while slow music plays. I trail as gracefully as possible, doing my best not to stumble so that it doesn’t appear as if he’s intimidating me. In a flash, he stops, entwines his left hand with mine, and pulls me close. Then he grazes his other palm down my arm and lifts it to rest on his shoulder, all the while wearing an infuriated expression on his face as his expensive cologne drifts around me.

I’m rigid in his arms and only reach the harsh line of his jaw, but I follow his lead, even though his hand rests very low on the small of my back. While I attempt to put some space between us as we twirl, he spins us effortlessly into the shadows of a corner, in search of privacy amid the people. I peek around, but there’s no escape for me.

“What are you doing?” I chide as he presses too close to me and keeps me in a body lock.

“No, that’s not how this works. First, you answer me. You’re Roman’s girlfriend? Did he have you work at the sex club to spy on us?” He appears puzzled too.

“What?! Spy on you? Why would I spy on you? And no, I’m not his girlfriend. I didn’t even know Roman then. We met after I left Club 7 that night.”

“On New Year’s Eve?”

“Yes,” I answer truthfully.

“Don’t lie to me!” He jostles me, paying no mind to my confusion. “Why are you so different now? You’re acting...Something’s going on here.”

“You’re doing the same, Carmine,” I accuse, bewildered as I wonder what his connection is to Roman. “What’s with your cool, king-like attitude?”

“King-like?” The corner of his lip twitches as if he’s amused before his scowl promptly returns. “Why was Roman’s girlfriend working in the sex club?”

“I just told you – I wasn’t his girlfriend then,” I repeat and he scoffs.

Carmine angles his head down since he towers over me, making me feel unnervingly short. “It’s in your best interest to start talking before I talk to your boyfriend...”

“Then talk to him. I don’t care,” I bluff, yet my limbs are trembling because this man could snap me like a twig.

He draws me even closer to him, saying with an icy bite, “Liar. You care. You’re part of Roman’s plan.”

What plan?

But before I can ask it aloud, Roman approaches us and Carmine allows me to take a step back.

“If you’re going to deny me answers the entire night, maybe I should try harder to provoke you...” Then he hastily gives me a petrifying warning before Roman reaches us, “This isn’t over; I’ll search you out the first chance I get to conclude this interrogation. I will get an explanation and my watch.”

“Might I have my girlfriend back?” Roman speaks in a voice that’s a little too hard-edged to be pleasant.

Carmine releases me entirely when Roman takes my hand, and I go with him, expelling a breath. However, I’m not in the clear yet as we exit the living room and tread to the end of the hallway and into the master bedroom.

Roman slams the door shut, leveling a glare at me. “Carmine is quite handsome.”

I don’t dare to respond.

“And he seems to be very interested in you.” He scrubs his hand over his clean-shaven jaw, and although he and Carmine are equally terrifying, I notice how lean Roman’s body is compared to Carmine’s muscled frame.

“He isn’t,” I murmur. He’s interested in his watch and knowing what Roman’s up to. So am I, for that matter.

He regards me questioningly. “How do you know him? Did you ever fuck him at your previous place of employment?”

“No. I only met him twice at Club 7, and we argued. He isn’t part of the club.”

“Baby, you’re very misinformed. He is Club 7. Don’t you know who owns it? The Chicago Syndicate, the mafia. And Carmine Montesi is one of the members of the Syndicate.”

Without thinking, I exclaim, “Oh, my god. What’s going on here? How do you know him?” Of course, I’ve heard of the elusive Syndicate men.

Holding up his palm, he commands me to shush it. “I don’t know Carmine personally, although I do engage in some business with the Syndicate. But I certainly won’t pay you if you flirt with him!”

“It wasn’t flirting,” I defend, taken aback because I just arrived at the mansion and changed into one of the three skimpy dresses I received from the hostess, and now he’s already ordering me around.

I thought I’d been hired to entertain men for this party. At least, that’s what Roman told me when I ran into him the night I stormed out of Club 7. He offered me this job for the weekend for two thousand dollars. Though, evidently, I’m not only here to entertain, but also to obey his instructions and act as his girlfriend when the need arises.

I’m not proud of my actions, but pride was knocked out of me when I decided to work as an escort for Club 7 six months ago, and now I’ve hit rock bottom and realize I don’t ever want to escort again. After this party, I need to think of a long-term plan to get out of this world.

“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Roman warns.

“Okay,” I concede, yet I probe, confused, “But why did you let him dance with me?”

He lets out a grunt, betraying how much he envies Carmine and the Syndicate, and I shrink back as he advances toward me.

“You don’t say no to a Syndicate man. But I’ll be damned if that Italian undermines me in my own home.”

Grabbing me by the shoulders, he slams me against the wall.

“While you’re working for me, you will not give attention to that man. Flirt with him again, and you’ll both regret it! There are enough other men here.”

Shit, shit, shit! Carmine will never leave me alone until I give him his watch, a watch I don’t have with me here. I had intended to send it back to Club 7, but I’ve considered selling it since I’ve been a little worried about how to pay my bills.

“Okay. I-I’m sorry,” I stammer, petrified by his level of anger.

Stay brave, Eva. Get through this party and then run like hell from these men.

A knock on the door interrupts us, and when Roman opens it to reveal his guard, I exhale a loaded breath, sagging in relief.

“Mr. Montesi was looking for you.”

Instantly, my momentary relief flies out the window.

“Let him in. He’s Chicago Syndicate royalty.”

The guard steps aside to expose Carmine, who pins a glare on me as he strolls in while Roman speaks to the other man.

When Carmine stops beside me, he turns around to watch the doorway as he grinds out, “We meet again, little thief.”

Incapable of holding my tongue, I murmur sweetly, “Your Highness, welcome.” It’s exhilarating to see his jaw go a little rigid.

Poor Carmine...obviously so used to people kissing his ass.

His eyes cut to me as he throws back, “Ah, there’s the feisty thief.”

I make a face, which he deliberately ignores as he adds in a commanding tone, “Pay attention because this is what’s going to happen...”