His eyes flash again, this time with jealousy. “Everything is different now.”
“I know.” I pretend to be sad about that as I round the table, moving slowly, letting his eyes roam my body. “But you know the old ways. You were the kind of man I looked up to.”
His gaze is locked on my breasts, which are barely contained by the tank top. I don’t know whether Giovanni likes my curves, but Romero apparently does. I move closer to him, letting my hips sway. My stomach ties into knots. I don’t know how far I’ll have to go to get him to help me, but I have to try.
“You didn’t look at me twice when you were here before,” he says, his voice rough. With desire? Or with anger? This is a man I wouldn’t want to see angry. Not the cold fury that Giovanni would have. This man would be wild in his anger, like Shane.
“I was young,” I say honestly. “I didn’t understand how things worked. And…I was afraid of you. Because you’re strong.” And violent. And probably sociopathic. “I’m grown now.”
“Yes, you are,” he mutters, daring to place his hand on my hip.
I hold back my flinch. “It isn’t right, him having me. Daddy wouldn’t have wanted that.”
That much isn’t a lie. He would be furious to know that Giovanni, the son of a foot soldier, had somehow usurped his position. It bothered him deeply that he never had a son. So he’d done the next best thing and chosen his successor, who was to marry Honor. Now all his plans are ruined.
Romero looks just as pissed as my father would be. “There’s a natural order.”
“I know,” I say, placing my hand on his suit lapel. “But I can’t do anything about it now. I’m trapped in here. He’s going to take what he wants from me. What he doesn’t deserve.”
I may not want to be a princess, but that’s how I was born.
There’s a girl in my Advanced Sculpture class who said that fairy tales are stupid, that she didn’t need a prince to save her. But she doesn’t understand.
Fairy tales aren’t for the girls who have a choice. They’re for the girls shoved into corners, trapped in darkness, bent over desks. Places where hope is an act of bravery. Where believing in love is an act of rebellion.
Fairy tales are for girls who dream of happy endings, knowing they might not live to see tomorrow.
Romero is far from a white knight, but he rises to the occasion. “You don’t belong with him. Fuck, I was higher on the food chain than his father. If anyone gets you, it should be me.”
Not the most heroic of speeches, but I’ll take it. I look down, stroking the silky fabric of his tie with one finger. “If only things had been different.”
I’m waiting for the magic words, praying he’ll promise to carry me away, when I see a flash of gray streak past me, between our legs, and out the door. Lupo.
Chapter Twelve
I’m out the door before Romero even knows what’s happening. He shouts, and I know he’s on my heels. There’s no chance I can actually escape like this, not with him this close and more men walking the grounds. I’m just focused on catching Lupo before he actually leaves the grounds. Or worse, attacks someone. I don’t think he’s a dangerous dog, but he’s trapped just like me. He’ll fight if he needs to, but the men he’ll be fighting have guns.
If we were in some other mansion, or even a hotel kind of place, I would be slower. Wouldn’t know which way to go. But I grew up here, barefoot on this same overlong oriental rug. A childhood of racing through these halls with my sister with a child’s exuberance gives me the burst of speed I need. I hear the clatter of Lupo’s nails on the stairs a second before I swing around the balcony. Then I’m racing down the steps after him.
He pauses at the bottom, unsure which way to go. The front of the mansion is closed off by wide double doors and thick stained glass. The back has large paned windows to show off the double-level pool and courtyards, which means Vegas’s sunlight pours in. Lupo heads for the back, not knowing he’ll be locked in that way just as much as the first, but then a man in a suit rounds the corner from the opposite direction.
There’s a horrible grinding sound as Lupo’s nails dig into the hardwood floors to stop his slide. He’s caught between me behind him and this unknown man in front of him. Before I can call his name, he darts through a one-foot opening in the door to the side. My heart pounds. The office.
I don’t recognize the man opposite me, but I know his type. He’s armed and dangerous and at least mildly sociopathic to even be in this job. His eyes narrow as if he’s trying to figure out who the hell I am or what I’m doing. Then he reaches into his jacket to draw his weapon. I don’t wait to find out if he’s going to threaten me or just open fire. I dart into the office after Lupo and stumble to a halt.