The second the elevator doors close behind me, I deflate like someone popped my ass with a needle and I’ve suddenly discovered that I’m a fucking balloon. Slumping against the glass wall of the elevator’s interior, I press a hand over my thudding heart and send a prayer up to God or the universe or whoever the hell is listening that I didn’t absolutely, royally fuck that up. At this point, I’d be willing to get on my knees and thank Satan if it meant I’d get a job at a publishing company versus yet another waitressing gig.
The last one had ended up… well…
I look down at the ring on my finger. I guess I can’t say that it ended horribly now, but it certainly altered my life.
I’m so focused on my thoughts and worries over whether that interview was my first step to the adult job world or not that I don’t see the tall man stalking toward me until I collide, face-first, into him.
“Oh shit!” I stumble back and blink, lowering my hand as I look up to the poor guy I just accidentally assaulted. “I’m so sor—” My words cut off as I take a look at the familiar face.
“Ah, if it isn’t Mrs. La Rosa.” Constantin’s smile is tight, though there’s no surprise in his features as he stares down his long, birdlike nose at me.
Annoyance hits me first and then, curiosity. “Constantin,” I say, nodding to him as I back up a step and then take another for good measure. I’m not entirely sure why, but my internal alarm bells are ringing, and even Mean Daisy has poked her head out to glare at the man.
Yeah, girl, I agree.I don’t like this motherfucker, either.The ability to get a sense for people and their intentions is one of the few good things to come out of being a foster kid. Right now, that sense is twitching like a meth head who hasn’t had a fix in too long and is ready to dive into withdrawals.
“What are you doing here?”
Constantin stiffens, his features pulling taut despite his sagging jowls, and his shoulders go back sharply. Beady little eyes glare at me, and I tip my head back further, arching a brow as if daring him to do something. One wrong move, and Giulio will go Freddy Krueger on his ass. That doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it should. In fact, I’m counting on my husband’s psycho-protective streak. Tingles start in my toes and spread up through my calves. An image of Giulio dressed up in that ratty black-and-red striped sweater with claw-tipped hands stroking over my flesh has my insides flip-flopping.
That should not be hot, I tell myself. Unfortunately, Mean Daisy disagrees and is already stripping off her clothes and hopping onto an imaginary bed in preparation for the fantasy to expand.
“—shouldn’t be surprised.” Constantin’s scoff brings me back to reality with a sharp snap, and I blink, looking up at him in a daze.
“I’m sorry, what?”
His upper lip curls back in disgust. I feel my body drain of all excitement the unintended fantasy brought forth. Dead eyes? Yeah, I’d bet both tits that my face has taken on the dead-fish look right now. I haven’t felt this devoid of emotion since I was promptly informed that I would be kicked out upon myeighteenth birthday by the foster parents who housed me at the time. I hadn’t waited for my birthday to hit the road, and I’m not going to wait for Constantin to demean me, either.
“Listen,” I say, holding up a hand to ward off any impending words from him that I’m not willing to listen to anyway. “I’m sure this is uncomfy for you—running into your boss’s wife and all that—but I—”
He snorts, cutting me off. I slowly lower my hand and tilt my head back. Well, then. Seems like he’s got something to get off his chest. I cross my arms, feeling the blouse’s silken fabric stretch tight over my elbows as I do. I ignore the slight discomfort and stare at him, dead-fish eyes and all.
“Wife?” He shakes his head. “You’re little more than a placeholder,girl.” His tone has me considering the mace I’ve got in my bag. I’ve never actually used it before. The one and only time I might have had a chance, I killed the guy.Accidentally killed the guy, I remind myself.Total accident.He just like… fell on a bullet… a few times, and then technically, one could argue that if he hadn’t been in that alley to attack me, he wouldn’t have gotten himself shot. So, to be fair, that wasn’t my fault.
“A placeholder,” I repeat, feeling my dead-fish eyes lighten a bit as my lips twitch.No, no, keep the crazy contained, girl, I warn myself. Not that Mean Daisy is listening. In fact, she’s ignoring my warning and pushing against the inside of my head, ready to be let out.Ugh, it’s like having a rabid dog in the back of your mind at all times. She’s leashed tightly, but when she wants to—she can be hella annoying.
Constantin smirks and rocks back on his loafers. I glance around, noting that people are giving him a wide berth, severalglancing back at him with fear in their eyes as if they recognize the man. My eyes return to him. I suppose I can understand why they’d react like that. Constantin is practically doused in the “I will kill you if you look at me” cologne. Unfortunately for him, it doesn’t suit my tastes and makes my nose wrinkle when he leans in close and in a low, threatening tone, speaks to me as if he were talking to a particularly slow child.
“Enjoy your position now,puttana,” he says snidely. “It will not last. Once Giulio is done with you, I will take great pleasure in cutting you up and disposing of your worthless body.” There’s something he’s not saying. Sure, I’m aware that whatever he just called me in Italian can’t be flattering, but there’s something wild in his eyes that sets me on edge even as it annoys the absolute shit out of me.
“Don’t hold back how you really feel,” I reply dryly. “And certainly, don’t worry about hurting my feelings, I can guarantee that I don’t give a fuck about what you have to say or what you think of me.”
Constantin’s face goes rigid, and then his bushy dark gray brows lift in surprise when I don’t shudder or start crying at his threat. Instead, I step closer, and he straightens, appearing for all the world as if he’d like to back away fromme. Little, sweet, innocent civilian Daisy. The power that gives me is heady, and my inner psycho self relishes in the feel.
I don’t bother to go up on my toes to reach him. Instead, I keep my feet flat on the ground and smile at him, showing him that I’m not bothered in the slightest. Maybe Giulio isn’t the only one with Freddy Krueger capabilities. I’m not sure why this man thinks he has the right to say what he did to me, butone thing is clear—he doesn’t fear Giulio. So, the next best thing is for him to fear me.
“You know,” I start as I unfold my arms and touch the lapels of his suit coat. I flatten two fingers over a barely-there wrinkle and stroke it down. “A lot of people underestimate women. They look at them and see what they want to see—weakness.” My smile grows as I sense Constantin’s unease.
Weren’t expecting this response, were you?I laugh internally.
Lifting my gaze inch by inch, up the sagging part of his throat to the age spots that dot the underside of his jaw up to his forehead, I take both lapels in my grip and tug lightly, aligning them neatly. “I’ll let my husband know that you wished me well.”
That’s it. That’s all I say as I release him and step back. My heart pounds against the inside of my rib cage, practically beating its invisible fists against my bones to break free. Then I turn and walk away.
One step in front of the other is the only way to go when you feel like your head is on a balloon, drifting into the clouds. Holy hell, did I just threaten someone in the mafia?Yes, yes, I fucking did.I’d felt like such a damn badass in the moment, but the farther away I get from Constantin, the closer I draw to the realm of “oh my fucking God,” and let me tell you… it’s not all rainbows and unicorn shit. Panic wraps ugly, skeletal fingers around my throat, tightening until I swear I can’t breathe.
Somehow, though, I find myself walking into one of the entrances to Central Park several minutes later. The sight of all the green and nature in a city made of chrome and speeding cars penetrates through the fog of anxiety that clings to mymind, and for the first time since I walked into the Gold Letter Publishing building earlier that morning, I feel air enter my lungs easily.
That “as easy as breathing” comment people make when they try to describe something simple is so stupid. Breathing isn’t always easy. Sometimes, it’s actual work.
