Santo had given me a couple of shirts. I think he liked me dressing in his oldclothes, or at least liked telling me what to wear. It was nice, but I was washing them in the basement laundry of my apartment building, and I didn’t have an iron or steamer to get the wrinkles out. I knew he was going to mention it. My heart dropped into my stomach the moment I left my apartment building—luckily with a nice warm jacket zipped to the collar.
Santo and his driver were waiting for me in a Mercedes. I didn’t know much about cars, but it was nicer than anything I’d ever been in before. Tugging on the strap of my cross-bodymessenger bag, I walked headstrong toward the car, ready with a smile on my face.
The door opened. Santo was in the back passenger seat.“You’re late,” he said, giving me a once-over. “Get in. We’re going somewhere.”
It was always the case when he showed up outside. We were going to a construction site, or a family business, and I smiled. I took every note and every instruction. I stayed quiet, and let him tell me what to do, because he was paying me, and I was going to be able to save money. Eventually, I’d be able to buy new teddies, onesies, and play toys, but until then, I had to do whatever Santo Bianchi told me.
“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked, and at first I didn’t realize he was talking to me. He snapped his fingers and placed a palm on his knees. “Are you?” His voice was harsh now, making my nape tingle and itch at the collar.
“No,” I let out, my hand inside my suit jacket squeezing Pud’s fluff, matted from all the years of playing. “I’m single.”
“Good,” he said. “Less complicated that way.”His hand on my knee was so nice, but I couldn’t feel this way about him, though. He was a killer, a stone-cold murderer. He smiled at me and squeezed me lightly on the knee. “You know I do background research on all my employees.”
A moan came out where an agreement was supposed to. “Yes,” I let out.
“Okay, just wanted you to know I did that,” he said. “No skeletons in your closet, Isaiah.” He laughed, slapping my knee as he removed his hand. “So, we’re going for breakfast. One of the fucking perks I get since I’m no longer allowed to be out on the fucking streets.” It was a mutter beneath his breath, but I knew it was cutting.
“Why?” I asked, and my voice came out weakly. I regretted it the second I spoke.
“Because I’m the head of the family,” he said, his eyes narrowing in on me, burning against my face. “The business. You know, it’s competitive, cutthroat, and when it comes to business, recent graduates given this scale of insight should be seen and not heard.”
I nodded, clenching my stomach. I wasn’t exactly scared of Santo, because I didn’t think he would ever physically hurt me. It might have been something I saw, or heard, or maybe it was just my gut, but I knew he only hurt people if they hurt him, and I considered myself a pacifist. I wasn’t going to hurt anyone.
He leaned in close, and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating in my personal space. “I know you’re special, though,” he said. “And special boys get special treatment, if you catch my drift.”
I nodded, it was all my body was physically capable of doing at this point. Just a nod, just a smile, just to get through this without getting an erection or him testing me like I could feel his warm body trying to do. He was seeing if I was going to touch him—and I wasn’t. I was a professional. I was here for work, and I wasn’t going to lose it because he wanted a toy to chew up and throw away.
After about ten minutes, we ended up at the family restaurant by the harbor. It was a couple of streets away from the construction offices, which had me wondering why he’d decided to pick me up. Was it so he could watch me walk out of my apartment,alone, or was he worried I was like one of the guys he used like a steel bar to fortify concrete?
Both of his brothers were at Palazzo. It was dark, the curtains closed. An older woman behind the bar served up soda waters with those fizzy vitamin tablets. I sat in the corner of the room with my file of papers on the table as they stood by the wrap-around bar. I kept my eyes fixed on them and not thebuzzing of my phone—my mom asking me how I was getting on at my job, and probably for cash.
Santo snapped his fingers at me and I rushed to him, almost falling over my feet. It turned out to be a lesson in ownership for his brothers.
“See how well trained I’ve got him,” Santo said. “He’s a good little boy, aren’t you?”
I looked to his brothers, and they all wore the same sort of handsome smug face, even the one I wasn’t supposed to think of as adopted. I nodded, forgetting the rules on speaking. This was a time he wanted my words. “Yes, sir,” I said. “Anything you need, just let me know. If you need me to take notes...”
The brother in the middle, Tomaso, pinched the bridge of his nose then rubbed at the insides of his eyes. “You think I should get an assistant? I could do with someone obedient like that.”
Rocco punched his arm, almost sloshing the luminous orange liquid from his glass. “We all know what you’d have planned with one,” he said. “Last time you had anything like that, you forgot he was tied to your bed.”
Tomaso scoffed. “It was only for a day,” he said. “And very much consensual.”
“Then why did we have to pay him ten grand and have him sign an ironclad NDA?” Santo asked, and he glanced at me briefly. I didn’t know if I should be part of this.
“Should I—” I started.
“No. In fact, take notes,” Santo said. “A reminder, anytime Tomaso talks about a relationship, make sure the other party isn’t some demon twink from the NYC party scene who’d agree to anything for a line of... whatever it is you’ve got.”
I pulled out the smaller notepad from my pocket and with it my phone, which crashed to the ground, screen up—it wasn’t broken. I dipped to pick it up, all three pairs of eyes on me, butas I grabbed it, Santo placed his black dress shoe over the back of my hand, applying pressure with his step.
“I don’t like clumsy,” he said, as if reminding me. He shook his head.
“I—I—I’m sorry, sir, it won’t happen again,” I said with a head bow. “It won’t happen again.”
He removed his foot and the phone screen flashed. Messages and calls from my mom. They were all looking, as it registered on my face—she was asking for money. She already owed me thousands, but I never mentioned it to her, and now my boss saw her pleading texts.
Santo snapped his fingers again. “Let’s get to it,” he said. “Tomaso isn’t allowed an assistant, make that note.”
