Reaper of the Wicked | A Mafia Romance

II||No sunrise is better than a Tequila sunrise

Grace places the tequila sunrise in front of me. "Thanks for letting me change in the staff room." She shrugs. "Anything for our best tipper." 

Gwen Stefani's Bubble Pop Electric blasts from the speakers. Lucy's is one of my favorite clubs. The first floor is a giant dance floor complete with a DJ booth and laser lights. The second floor, the one I'm currently on, is the bar area where you can grab a drink or sit in a booth. It's more of a balcony than a floor. From my place by the bar I can perfectly watch all the sweaty grinding bodies. Watching how normal people interact is fun.

"Who's in high demand today?" I ask Grace. 

"Alex, you are so fucking weird." Alex is the name I use at Lucy's. I'm an avid wizards of waverly place fan. "Today it's a man." Men tend to be easier than women. They don't need romancing and no one will call them a slut for sleeping with someone they've known for a couple hours. 

"Damn it, I was looking for a challenge." I like to find the person who's most sought after in the club and then try to take them home. 

I will admit there are many times when I go home alone but when I don't, when I get to sleep with the person who everyone in the club wants to fuck, by god is it an effective confidence booster. 

This is my self care. 

"He is definitely a challenge." Grace supplies. 

She is the ultimate decider of who I try to take home. Grace is really the longest relationship I've had with someone I'm not related to. My only friend doesn't know my real name. She knows little snippets of the life I've created for Alex. She knows about Alex's childhood with two loving parents. And she knows Alex is a middle child of 3 who decided to get an EdP in Psychology to research the human mind. Alex dream is to eventually become a Professor. 

"How so?" I ask her.

"He's been coming here for a while now, usually on the weekends, completely alone, and sits in his booth drinking either whiskey or rum. There have been like a bajillion people sending him drinks, flirting with him, even straight out asking him out. He's taken none of them home." My eyes widen. "You're lying."

"I'm not!" She exclaims.

"So you're telling me he waits in the long ass line to get into Lucy's just to sit in a booth and drink."

"He pays David 200 bucks every single time to skip the line." If only the mystery man knew that all you had to do was befriend the staff to skip the line. 

"Okay I'm intrigued," I say. She smiles triumphantly. "He's in the corner booth. The one farthest from us to the left. He's the one with light brown hair and the black button up. He's insanely hot, not hard to miss." I discreetly look to where she suggested the man would be. 

His hair was light brown as Grace suggested it was smoothed back. I can't see his eye color from here but he has a sharp jawline, pronounced cheekbones, and his face looks clean shaven. If he isn't in the entertainment industry then he should definitely consider it. His posture suggests that he's relaxed. His eyes are roving looking for something or more likely someone. It explains why he comes here alone only to sit in a booth and do nothing.

 He's waiting for someone.

 His eyes meet mine and his lips pull into a sexy smirk. Raising his whiskey tumbler mystery man winks before taking a sip. I raise my tequila sunrise while maintaining eye contact. 

Some may call me paranoid but I'd be stupid not to wonder if maybe I'm the one he's looking for. "I'm going to go talk to him," I tell Grace. 

I slide from my barstool and walk towards him. His posture stiffens so slightly that if I hadn't been looking for something I wouldn't have noticed. There is something weird going on. A large body steps in front of me blocking my view. I would recognize those huge shoulders anywhere. 

"Let me guess, Enzo ratted me out." I deadpan. 

"He called me to come pick him up, I asked where you were." 

 I may have slipped up and mentioned Lucy's but I have no memory of it. My memory is exceptional but not perfect. 

I groan "And why are you here?." Tilting my head to look directly into his light brown eyes I narrow mine at him but it's hard to intimidate someone who has had you naked and pinned to their bed. 

"I want to talk to you." If there is a God out there I pray that he strikes down the man who stands before me. But it seems as if there is no all mighty spiritual being willing to save me. 

"So talk." I demand. He gently grasps my elbow. "Can we go somewhere, it's important." His eyes stare intently into mine. He looks troubled. I down the rest of my tequila sunrise then nod. His hand slides from my elbow to my hand. I bask in his touch for a heartbeat before pulling away. He frowns but leads the way to the exit. I place my empty glass on a nearby booth and glance at the man I was going to approach but he's looking at Antonio, his face is twisted with confusion.

...

The smell of new leather tingles my nose and fills my lungs. I don't know much about cars but, lord, do I love the smell of clean leather. I smooth my fingers over the inside of the car door. "When did you get the new car?" I ask. I knew his other car very intimately and this was definitely not it. 

"I got a promotion." 

I snort. He's been working for Leopoldo for 9 years. Leopoldo would never promote him because he has no way to control him. The two current capo-regimes are related to Leopoldo. One through blood and one through marriage. Antonio is Italian but he is most definitely not related to Leopoldo. Not through blood and not through- "I'm betrothed to Teresa." 

My fingers stall their exploration as my heart sinks. Maybe I shouldn't have downed that tequila sunrise, it might just come back up. 

I imagine myself hitting the dashboard over and over. Screaming until my voice box bursts. Repeatedly throwing myself on the floor until my body is so bruised that there isn't an inch uncovered with blue. Finally I imagine reaching into my mind cutting out the tumor like chunk of rage that's been festering and growing for 26 years and shoving it down my Father's narcissistic throat. 

"Ok." I say. 

I open the car door before stepping outside and making my way towards Lucy's. The driver's side door clicks open then slams shut. "That's it?" Antonio shouts. His shoes slap against the pavement until he gets close enough to reach from me. I easily evade his attempt to catch my arm. "Yes that's it, Antonio, because I don't think I have to warn you not to hurt her just like I don't have to warn you not to touch me." I lower my voice menacingly and look directly into his eyes. "You know what I do and you know just how good I am at it." I paste a smile on my face. "Good talk."

"No," he says. "Don't act like we were nothing." His jaw clenches and he looks away from me. Dramatic as always. 

"You ended things. We've been nothing for almost a year." The words come out almost monotone. It's a fact. That's it. Antonio's face burns a bright shade of red. He opens his mouth and closes it again as if he were a gaping fish. "Goodbye Antonio, I'll see you." 

 "You think you can protect her. Once we're married Teresa is mine. She's mine to do with as I please. Whether she's willing or not."