Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“Oh, God. He owed you money, didn’t he? Are you, like, a bookie or something? What was it? Sports? Cards?”
“No, I’m not a bookie. But the fact that you’re not freaking out about that makes this a little easier,” he said, giving me a smile that totally didn’t melt my panties or anything. “Your uncle gave me and my family money monthly. For protection.”
“For protection from what? Like… personal security?” I mean, this was a garage full of reasonably fit men. What did they have to be so afraid of?
“Not exactly. Yes, we do work as a sort of personal security, if or when that’s necessary. But it’s also that when people know the shop is under our protection, they know not to fuck with it in the first place.”
“Wait… that’s… that sounds like something I heard of in a doc—“
A documentary.
About the mob.
And their protection rackets.
“There it is,” Santo said, exhaling so slowly and deeply that his lungs must have burned.
“So, Grassi. That’s…”
“My last name.”
“But also your… Family name?”
“Yes.”
“You’re in the mafia?” The words were out of me before I could think them through. I mean, were you even supposed to acknowledge to a member of the mob that they were a mafioso? Was that, like, dangerous?
Was I in danger?
From the man who’d been starring in my sexual fantasies for a week?
Even just sitting there talking, with his coffee and cocoa scent wafting over to me, had my sex aching for him to just… clear the desk and take me on top of it.
No matter how much I knew that was never going to happen.
My fears fell away, though, as Santo’s lips twitched before he gave up on the fight and let the smile spread.
“Yeah, sweetheart. That’s exactly it.”
Wow.
Okay then.
That was just… so like me, wasn’t it?
To be jonesing after the walking red flag.
I had quite the track record when it came to relationships and crushes.
There was, of course, Johnny, who screwed everything that walked, including me. He also took money from all of us after said screwing. I’d been paying for sex without realizing it—for a year. And, God, it wasn’t even money well spent.
There’d been my work crush—a guy who worked at the gym across from my store—who my coworkers and I watched get hauled away by the cops for nearly beating his best friend to death with a hand weight.
Then there was Robby, who I’d dated on and off for about two years. Only to realize that the reason we were so on-and-off was because his wife—that I obviously didn’t know existed—had a baby, and he felt guilty for a few months every now and then, and broke things off with me to go back to them.
I’d seen them all out together as a family on my birthday night—the same birthday he told me he couldn’t spend with me because he was on business in California.
“Did I lose you?” Santo asked, snapping me back to the present.
“You did,” I admitted, shaking my head.
“To where?”
“Oh, just all the times when I completely misjudged a man,” I admitted. Why bother lying? “So, okay. You had a deal with my uncle. Does that deal… roll over to me?”
I really hoped it didn’t. But I didn’t think I was in the position to try to make any demands or anything. I mean, this guy was in the mob. You know… cement shoes and sleeping with the fishes mob.
“Yes,” Santo confirmed, but there was regret in his voice, like he felt bad about that fact.
“Okay,” I said, exhaling hard. And I could have sworn, just for a second, his gaze slipped down to my chest at the motion. Though that was surely just wishful thinking. “Well, I guess protection isn’t a bad thing, right?”
“Right,” he agreed. “If anyone starts hassling you, if you get robbed, anything like that, you call me, and I handle it.”
“Like… handle it?” I asked, picking up my pen and making a stabbing motion in the air with it.
I was being dead serious.
But Santo threw his head back and laughed.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re making this a hell of a lot easier than I thought it would be. The chances of me stabbing someone over stealing shit are low, though. No worries.”
“Okay then,” I said, sitting back, pretending not to notice the way my heart fluttered each time he called me ‘sweetheart.’
It was just a pet name.
He probably used it on all women.
I needed to get a grip.
“Well, I guess all I have to ask is how often I have to pay you.”
I mean, things weren’t exactly loosey-goosey around there, money-wise. But there was a little extra money.
Did I have some of that money earmarked for repairs and upgrades around the garage? Sure. But I could, I don’t know, go online and learn how to do the repairs myself, find stuff second-hand. It could still look a million times better on a much smaller budget.