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Authors: Helena Newbury
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me with raw lust in her eyes. God, I wanted her so much. I finally gave up on sleep, got up and drove to work.
I run most of the business from the backroom of a big, sprawling bar called Underground , right in the heart of my territory. A hundred years ago, when immigrants—a lot of them Italian—dug out the first subway, it was where they used to go after their shift to shake the rock dust out of their hair and sink a cold one. It’s a busy place: even when it’s too early for customers, some of my guys are there. There’s always coffee in the pot and music playing. Being there always makes me feel better.
Not today, though. I was in a lousy mood. What the fuck was wrong with me? It had been months since I’d been with a woman—I just hadn’t had time. Now I’d met one and lost her. So what? Back to the status quo. Two days ago, I hadn’t even known Irina existed.
So why was it bothering me so much?
More people arrived and the business of the day started rolling in: decisions to be made, problems to be solved. I sat back in my big leather chair and called people in one by one. A nightclub owner needed an extension on his loan after a fire: I gave it to him. Two of my guys were short on their collection runs: I leaned forward, voice low, and put the fear of God into them, telling them to hit their totals tomorrow or else. Some morons from a local motorcycle club had started dealing meth on our turf: I sent a car full of guys to remind them where the boundaries were. Just a typical morning, but I was grouchy and irritable, yelling more than I should have done. I knew better. Ruling isn’t about screaming at people: calm and determined gets you a hell of a lot further. What’s wrong with me?
Then Rico arrived with more bad news. Some guys from Mikhail and Vasiliy’s gang had visited an Italian-owned bar. They’d smashed the windows and scared off the customers.
It had happened only a few hours after Rico and I had stood up to the Russians. They were sending a message: go quietly or we’ll destroy you.
I’d been nursing a cup of coffee in the hope it’d make me feel better. I suddenly snapped and hurled it across the room to smash against the wall. “ Goddammit!” I yelled.
Rico blinked at me. “Easy,” he said gently. “We’ve had it worse. We’ll figure it out.”
I stared at him. Rico’s always so dependable. I love the guy. For a second, I even considered telling him about Irina. I knew he’d back me up in my decision, tell me that staying away from her was the only sensible thing to do.
Thing is, I didn’t know if I wanted to be backed up. And just that tiny admission released the brakes on something that had been building all day. All the longing, all my lust for her, started to coalesce, shrinking but concentrating, going from a hot, painful cloud that filled me to a tiny, hard point of light that sat right at my core. A seed.
No. No, don’t even think about it.
A seed that I could feel starting to grow.
“Give me some space,” I growled. “I gotta make a phone call.”
Rico nodded and left, closing the door behind him. I grabbed my phone.
Don’t do it, Angelo. Don’t you fucking do it!
I’d gotten her number from her during dinner. I told myself I was just going to end things like a gentleman, to make some excuse so she didn’t think it was her fault. But I could feel that seed throbbing and burning inside me, growing steadily bigger and bigger.
I drew in a long breath...and called her.
9
Irina
I was up on the flat roof of Fenbrook Academy, lying on my back in the snow. It’s not as crazy as it sounds: my coat was thick enough to insulate me from the cold and long enough to cover me down to my thighs, so my ass didn’t get wet. And there wasn’t much wind. Just big, soft flakes of snow fluttering straight down, invisible against the white sky until they were almost touching my face. Gazing straight up, nothing but the sky was visible. I could have been anywhere in
I run most of the business from the backroom of a big, sprawling bar called Underground , right in the heart of my territory. A hundred years ago, when immigrants—a lot of them Italian—dug out the first subway, it was where they used to go after their shift to shake the rock dust out of their hair and sink a cold one. It’s a busy place: even when it’s too early for customers, some of my guys are there. There’s always coffee in the pot and music playing. Being there always makes me feel better.
Not today, though. I was in a lousy mood. What the fuck was wrong with me? It had been months since I’d been with a woman—I just hadn’t had time. Now I’d met one and lost her. So what? Back to the status quo. Two days ago, I hadn’t even known Irina existed.
So why was it bothering me so much?
More people arrived and the business of the day started rolling in: decisions to be made, problems to be solved. I sat back in my big leather chair and called people in one by one. A nightclub owner needed an extension on his loan after a fire: I gave it to him. Two of my guys were short on their collection runs: I leaned forward, voice low, and put the fear of God into them, telling them to hit their totals tomorrow or else. Some morons from a local motorcycle club had started dealing meth on our turf: I sent a car full of guys to remind them where the boundaries were. Just a typical morning, but I was grouchy and irritable, yelling more than I should have done. I knew better. Ruling isn’t about screaming at people: calm and determined gets you a hell of a lot further. What’s wrong with me?
Then Rico arrived with more bad news. Some guys from Mikhail and Vasiliy’s gang had visited an Italian-owned bar. They’d smashed the windows and scared off the customers.
It had happened only a few hours after Rico and I had stood up to the Russians. They were sending a message: go quietly or we’ll destroy you.
I’d been nursing a cup of coffee in the hope it’d make me feel better. I suddenly snapped and hurled it across the room to smash against the wall. “ Goddammit!” I yelled.
Rico blinked at me. “Easy,” he said gently. “We’ve had it worse. We’ll figure it out.”
I stared at him. Rico’s always so dependable. I love the guy. For a second, I even considered telling him about Irina. I knew he’d back me up in my decision, tell me that staying away from her was the only sensible thing to do.
Thing is, I didn’t know if I wanted to be backed up. And just that tiny admission released the brakes on something that had been building all day. All the longing, all my lust for her, started to coalesce, shrinking but concentrating, going from a hot, painful cloud that filled me to a tiny, hard point of light that sat right at my core. A seed.
No. No, don’t even think about it.
A seed that I could feel starting to grow.
“Give me some space,” I growled. “I gotta make a phone call.”
Rico nodded and left, closing the door behind him. I grabbed my phone.
Don’t do it, Angelo. Don’t you fucking do it!
I’d gotten her number from her during dinner. I told myself I was just going to end things like a gentleman, to make some excuse so she didn’t think it was her fault. But I could feel that seed throbbing and burning inside me, growing steadily bigger and bigger.
I drew in a long breath...and called her.
9
Irina
I was up on the flat roof of Fenbrook Academy, lying on my back in the snow. It’s not as crazy as it sounds: my coat was thick enough to insulate me from the cold and long enough to cover me down to my thighs, so my ass didn’t get wet. And there wasn’t much wind. Just big, soft flakes of snow fluttering straight down, invisible against the white sky until they were almost touching my face. Gazing straight up, nothing but the sky was visible. I could have been anywhere in
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