I hear a small chuckle down the line. “I’d like to see you try, princess.” The voice is smoother now. He doesn’t sound like how I thought he would. He sounds younger than his photos, but it might just be the speaker.
I lean out my window and look up at the cameras, hoping he can see me on one of them, and try my best at flirting over the camera with a middle-aged man. “I bet you would,” I purr.
The laugher down the line has me grinning. And he says, “Let them in.”
My heart races. I did it, I got us in. One step closer to my plan. Now I have to find the house and the man in question. Not freak out and run away like my mind keeps telling me to. Ask him to keep his thugs at bay. No more fighting for Roman, no more hitting me with their car. Give him ten grand and promise I can come up with the rest of the cash owed.
I want this to work so badly, I will ask my mom for money. If they agree to cash instead of the bets and fights, I will do it. I’ll make the call.
The gates open, and the guard tells us it’s the house at the very end. I slowly drive past all these big houses. Fancy cars in driveways. I almost stop when I see the house at the end.
“Holy shit,” Asher whispers, and that’s exactly what I’d been thinking.Holy shit.
It’s insane. At least three times the size of Walkers’ house, and so many windows. Huge, white columns were so elegant. It wasn’t what I expected, but then, I guess, what did I expect a mob house to look like? All black?
I drive up the long circular driveway, feeling out of place with my little old Honda, next to all these sleek black BMWs. I put the brake on and turn the engine off. My fingers tingle, and I clench my fists.
Walker’s car would have matched in here. But his is white. And a Mercedes Benz. But at least it wouldn’t have stuck out like a sore thumb that my car was.
We all get out of the car and, just as Asher closes his door, a man in a suit opens the front door. My hands shake. I’m about to meet Alessandro Amato. I have only seen photos of him. I’m going to do it. I’ve come this far, and now that it’s happening, I might be really freaking out. But I hold my bag in my hands and take the steps up to the front door, Walker and Asher behind me.
A man in a dark suit opens the door. He’s similar looking to the guard out at the front gate. He looks me once over, his expression unchanging.
“Mila Hart.” I nod. He takes my bag and looks inside, then pats me down. Oh, well, I guess that makes sense. He does the same to Walker and Asher.
“Follow me.” He grunts as he turns, and we follow him inside.
The interior is just as beautiful and big as its exterior. A set of dramatic marble staircases leads to the second story, and the floors are so shiny that I worry I will slip on my ass even with my sneakers on. I’m so underdressed to be in this house.
The man leads us down a hallway, past an enormous kitchen, and into a room full of white leather couches, a dark-haired guy is sitting back, eyeing me as we enter the room. He waves his hand, dismissing the security guard. I hear movement from the side, and another guy in a suit I didn’t even see opens a door and leaves.
“I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I have no idea who you are or why you’re here.” He leans forward, his arms on his knees, as he looks me up and down with dark, piercing eyes.
Who the fuck is this? This isn’t who I came here for. Am I at the wrong house? I said Alessandro Amato, right? I’m not dreaming I said that.
I look to where the guard from the front door left. I want to call out and tell him he took us to the wrong person. A middle-aged guy with black and silver hair is what I'm looking for. And what I have in front of me is not that. It’s the opposite to that. I have a young guy here… maybe eighteen with dark hair.
He's dressed in a polo and black skinny leg jeans. He knows he’s attractive by the way he moves, I can tell he’s sure of himself. He is attractive, and you can feel the power radiating from him.
He’s got that big dick energy going on.
But I need to see the mob boss. Not this guy.
“Who are you?” I ask. The nerves creeping in more than I want.
“You came here for me, Mila Hart. So, you should know that.”
I realize he’s the guy on the other end of the call at the guard box. This isn’t Alessandro Amato middle aged mob boss. This is some guy, who’s probably still in high school and trying to play the big, bad boss while the boss isn’t here. His position is higher than the others around, I can tell that, but who is he?
“You’re not who I’m here for.” I’m confused. Is this a joke?
Asher moves closer to me, pressing his hand into my lower back, as Walker speaks up next. “Who the fuck are you?”
I reach out and grab Walker’s hand as he takes another step closer to the guy, he just raises his brow and chuckles at us. “Mila, your boyfriend has a little bite. I like that.”
He reclines on the white couch and drapes his arms on the top, making himself look bigger. More powerful.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
