14 Days With The Mafia Lord

~ Twist Of Fate ~

ELAINE

FOUR YEARS AGO

I was at another one of Dad's charity things.

Every once in a while, when the fancy took him, he'd throw an elaborate shindig in the name of some obscure charity to remind everyone in the entire state that he was an actual human being with a heart.

And he would drag me with him to show me off as his beautiful heir.

I hated every second of it.

Seated at the bar in a tight red dress that accentuated my curves, I downed my third glass of whiskey. I was always a lightweight, and already I could feel the effects of the alcohol. My vision was starting to blur at the edges, and I was humming along to the classical music flowing through the elegant ballroom.

As was my habit in the three hours we'd been here, I looked around for my father, just in case he needed to show me off to another creepy old man who'd stare at my breasts for the entirety of the conversation. I blamed the built-in push-up bra in this stupidly tight dress.

But as usual, Father was oblivious to my existence as he was in the middle of an adoring crowd, laughing while his fat fingers curled around the stem of a champagne glass. You could always find him easily. He was a big guy with salt and pepper hair that he thought made him look stately, but I secretly thought it made him look like a garden gnome.

I was about to open my mouth to order another glass of whiskey when a broad-shouldered man suddenly occupied the empty stool beside me.

"I'll have a gin and tonic on the rocks and a refill for the lady," the man ordered with a thick Italian accent that made my thighs clench involuntarily.

The bartender nodded and got to work preparing our drinks.

"Thanks, but I don't need you to order for me. I'm perfectly capable of using my own words, thank you very much," I told him.

He turned in his seat, and what I saw set my almost-drunk heart ablaze.

His face looked like it was sculptured painstakingly by God himself. Deep-set green eyes that sparkled with intent, thick dark hair held back by hair gel but still had that one errant strand that stuck to his forehead, a jaw that looked hard enough to cut steel, and lips so pink and full that I wanted to put mine on them. Immediately.

"I know, but how else was I going to get you to talk to me, bella?"

Something about his deep, accented voice turned my stomach into mush and warmed me from the inside before settling to a warm, aching throb in the middle of my legs. This was new.

"You could've used a pick-up line. I hear they're prevalent among your kind."

"My kind?" He gave a devastating smirk that only increased the ache. "And what kind would that be, bella?"

"The kind who targets solitary pretty women at bars."

He let out a full-bodied laugh, and I had to restrain myself from jumping his bones right here and now in front of all these people. Again this was new.

Our drinks were set before us on the mahogany countertop.

"Well, you're right, bella. But not for the reason you think. You see, I saw you looking extremely bored from all the way across the room and thought you were in dire need of some fun." He picked up his drink and stood up. He bent and whispered into my left ear as he was about to pass me. "If you choose to take me up on my offer, I'll be in the garden."