Page 40 of Niccolaio Andretti (The Five Syndicates)
“Let’s talk it out first and see what our best options are.”
“Okay,” I agree, sighing as if I’m doing him a favor.
I walk up the steps and past the threshold of his front door, but he stops me with a soft touch of his hand on my shoulder. The contact sends a jolt of thrill down my spine, and I can’t help but wonder…
When was the last time I was touched by a man I was attracted to?
Never.
Well, not since he touched me last, but that hardly counts. He did that to prove a point. To prove that I was attracted to him and not John. And unfortunately, it did too good of a job at proving his point, and now I’m painfully aware of that each time I’m around him, as I’m helplessly rendered into a mess of confusing hormones just at the sight of him.
Since my gold digging campaign began, I’ve only once tried to go for a man that I was even remotely attracted to. Once upon a time, I tried to go for Asher, who I was more than attracted to. I saw him in an off-campus bar with Aimee and Lucy and thought he’d be the jackpot. He’s young, handsome and more believable than me being with someone like John.
He also has more clout in this city than anyone I’ve ever met. No way would a custody request from the Asher Black be turned down by Social Services.
But Asher shut me down almost as soon as I approached him. He treated me like there was something wrong with me, and maybe there is. Not because of my gold digging. I’m not ashamed—nor will I ever be—of exhausting all options possible to get Mina back.
What I am ashamed of is how I let my anger and jealousy and frustration get the best of me. And how poorly that made me treat Lucy, Aimee, and so many others who have crossed my path.
And for a split second, I indulge my attraction to John’s neighbor. I allow myself to wonder what would happen if we were normal, and I was being invited into his house under normal circumstances.
Would he want me?
Would he press me against the wall and kiss me?
Would he lead me upstairs and shower my body with praises, like John did with my lookalike?
“Hold up,” he says, giving me an odd look when he catches sight of my expression and, thankfully, shaking away my distracting thoughts.
I watch as he walks to a wall opposite of us and presses a few buttons on what’s probably his alarm system.
“Okay. All clear.”
I take a few steps forward, and as soon as I do, the door behind me swings shut automatically with a loud thud. I hear a few strange sounds, one of which sounds like a hydraulic whish, before I can’t help but turn around.
I watch as a steel plate, painted to look like a dark wooden door, slides over the outer door, forming a second protective layer. Seconds after, there are three loud clicks that sound like the turning of several locks.
Holy cow.
I knew, walking into his brownstone, that this man probably has ties to the mafia. But this security system? What would necessitate it?
This is crazy.
What have I gotten myself into?
Chapter Sixteen
Anger is never
without a reason, but
seldom a good one.
Benjamin Franklin
Un. Fucking. Believable.
Someone is following Red Junior, and the fact that she’s been able to catch him tells me that it’s another talentless hack, trying his hand at the five million dollar hit.
