Read Online The Hitman's Dancer: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Snake Eyes Book 2) by Tabatha Kiss - Free Book Online
Authors: Tabatha Kiss
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concentrating hard to keep her eyes on me. “Just be cool, huh?”
“Graceful. Elegant. Poised,” I say. “You know, all the things you claimed to be last night.”
“Is that doubt I hear rolling off your tongue?”
“Maybe.” I smile, reacting to the tough, Chicago accent seeping through her teeth. “You going to prove me wrong?”
Lucy picks up her wineglass. “I assure you, Mr. Hart… I have grace and elegance coming out of my ass.”
I laugh as a shadow pauses over me and a hand slaps down on my shoulder.
“God, I love a pretty broad with a dirty mouth!”
I look up to find Enzo Zappia lingering over me in a dark burgundy suit, looking exactly like his old man minus about twenty years. “Enzo!” I greet, extending my hand to him as I gesture around with the other. “This place is wonderful. You’ve done a fine job.”
He whips my wrist about like he’s herding cattle and then lays his hand on his chest. “It tickles me to hear you say that, Hart. I’m honored you could make it tonight.”
I lean towards him an inch. “Well, your father didn’t give me much choice.”
Enzo laughs, the sound carrying across the entire room but no one bats an eye. He’s a Zappia, after all, and the owner. He can do whatever the fuck he wants. “But this—” He points at Lucy. “This beauty must have been worth the effort.”
“She’s certainly proving to be.” His hand slips from my shoulder and he extends it across the table towards her. “Lucy, this is Lorenzo Zappia.”
Her brow twitches at the name and I detect a sly malice behind her eyes. Perhaps bringing her to spend the night out amongst the people that tried to have her father killed wasn’t the wisest of decisions. Still, she throws on a pleasant smile and nestles her fingers in his. “It’s a pleasure,” she says.
Enzo leans over and kisses her knuckles, a move that no doubt infuriates her but she keeps her cool. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms… ”
“Vaughn.”
He stands up, smiling wide as he releases her hand. “Ms. Vaughn ,” he repeats, shifting his eyes back to me. “Hart, you let me know if you or the lady need anything.”
I nod. “Of course.”
Enzo glides away, laying a soft hand on her bare shoulder as he swings by. I expect Lucy to say something as soon as he’s out of earshot but she keeps silent, her eyes purposefully locked on mine, and brings her glass to her lips for a stiff sip.
“What?” I ask her, sensing the words building on the tip of her tongue.
“Nothing,” she murmurs between sips. She takes her time, pouring a healthy amount down her throat before setting the glass down. “I’m just sitting here… acting poised .”
“I can tell.”
She inhales a quick breath and her posture sags. “Not only did you bring me to a mob restaurant—”
“Lucy—”
“—you brought me to a mob restaurant where I’d be surrounded by the very men that tried to have my father killed.”
“I regret nothing.”
“I should stab you with my fork.”
“You’re willing to try.”
Lucy lets herself look around again, obviously not caring anymore about whom she might offend. “This is fucked up, you know that, right?”
I pinch the stem of my wineglass. “Come now, Ms. Vaughn. If being around killers actually bothered you, you never would have agreed to spend the evening with me . Again.”
“What makes you think it doesn’t?”
“That look in your eyes,” I answer, staring across at her.
“What look in my eyes?”
“The one you’ve had since the moment I kissed you tonight.”
She falls silent and I take a victory sip of wine — perhaps prematurely, but it tastes delicious all the same. “Being a decent fuck doesn’t vindicate you of wrongdoing, Mr. Hart.”
“I never said it did, Ms. Vaughn.”
“You see, this is the problem with gangsters in this city,” she says, her voice firm but low. “Their entitlement to own things they hold no claim over.”
“You feel I believe
“Graceful. Elegant. Poised,” I say. “You know, all the things you claimed to be last night.”
“Is that doubt I hear rolling off your tongue?”
“Maybe.” I smile, reacting to the tough, Chicago accent seeping through her teeth. “You going to prove me wrong?”
Lucy picks up her wineglass. “I assure you, Mr. Hart… I have grace and elegance coming out of my ass.”
I laugh as a shadow pauses over me and a hand slaps down on my shoulder.
“God, I love a pretty broad with a dirty mouth!”
I look up to find Enzo Zappia lingering over me in a dark burgundy suit, looking exactly like his old man minus about twenty years. “Enzo!” I greet, extending my hand to him as I gesture around with the other. “This place is wonderful. You’ve done a fine job.”
He whips my wrist about like he’s herding cattle and then lays his hand on his chest. “It tickles me to hear you say that, Hart. I’m honored you could make it tonight.”
I lean towards him an inch. “Well, your father didn’t give me much choice.”
Enzo laughs, the sound carrying across the entire room but no one bats an eye. He’s a Zappia, after all, and the owner. He can do whatever the fuck he wants. “But this—” He points at Lucy. “This beauty must have been worth the effort.”
“She’s certainly proving to be.” His hand slips from my shoulder and he extends it across the table towards her. “Lucy, this is Lorenzo Zappia.”
Her brow twitches at the name and I detect a sly malice behind her eyes. Perhaps bringing her to spend the night out amongst the people that tried to have her father killed wasn’t the wisest of decisions. Still, she throws on a pleasant smile and nestles her fingers in his. “It’s a pleasure,” she says.
Enzo leans over and kisses her knuckles, a move that no doubt infuriates her but she keeps her cool. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms… ”
“Vaughn.”
He stands up, smiling wide as he releases her hand. “Ms. Vaughn ,” he repeats, shifting his eyes back to me. “Hart, you let me know if you or the lady need anything.”
I nod. “Of course.”
Enzo glides away, laying a soft hand on her bare shoulder as he swings by. I expect Lucy to say something as soon as he’s out of earshot but she keeps silent, her eyes purposefully locked on mine, and brings her glass to her lips for a stiff sip.
“What?” I ask her, sensing the words building on the tip of her tongue.
“Nothing,” she murmurs between sips. She takes her time, pouring a healthy amount down her throat before setting the glass down. “I’m just sitting here… acting poised .”
“I can tell.”
She inhales a quick breath and her posture sags. “Not only did you bring me to a mob restaurant—”
“Lucy—”
“—you brought me to a mob restaurant where I’d be surrounded by the very men that tried to have my father killed.”
“I regret nothing.”
“I should stab you with my fork.”
“You’re willing to try.”
Lucy lets herself look around again, obviously not caring anymore about whom she might offend. “This is fucked up, you know that, right?”
I pinch the stem of my wineglass. “Come now, Ms. Vaughn. If being around killers actually bothered you, you never would have agreed to spend the evening with me . Again.”
“What makes you think it doesn’t?”
“That look in your eyes,” I answer, staring across at her.
“What look in my eyes?”
“The one you’ve had since the moment I kissed you tonight.”
She falls silent and I take a victory sip of wine — perhaps prematurely, but it tastes delicious all the same. “Being a decent fuck doesn’t vindicate you of wrongdoing, Mr. Hart.”
“I never said it did, Ms. Vaughn.”
“You see, this is the problem with gangsters in this city,” she says, her voice firm but low. “Their entitlement to own things they hold no claim over.”
“You feel I believe
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