KON (Trassato Crime Family Book 2)(10)

By: Lisa Cardiff

“Not really. I mean, I went to dinner with someone recently. Nothing will come of it. He’s not interested in anything serious.”

“Does Nico know?”

The car service honked.

Thank God.

“That’s my ride. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, and for the first time in months I felt like I had a mother again. “Okay. Have fun tonight. I love you.”

“Love you too.”



“Rough night already?” Anatolyi squeezed my shoulder.

I flexed my hand around my drink, focusing on the entrance of the bar. Carmela was late, which wasn’t a good thing. I needed to be downstairs to supervise the gambling festivities in the next ten minutes or my dad would get an earful from our VIPs, and as a rule, I liked to avoid confrontations with him. He was a malicious bastard when people didn’t bend to his will.

Most dads yelled when they were ticked off. My dad had a tendency to pistol whip me or threaten to cut me out of his life. Although I must say, his relentless intimidation had gotten old, and I’d stopped taking him seriously approximately six months ago when it became painfully obvious he needed me as much as I needed him.

“Fuck off, Anatolyi.” I shrugged out of his grasp. “Go make yourself useful somewhere, preferably far away from me.”

He guffawed, pointing his beer bottle at me. “How cute. This woman already has you tied up in knots and you’re not even fucking her.” He scanned my face. “You’re nervous she won’t show.”

“She’ll show.”

“If you say so.”

He tapped his fingers to the beat of the music on the thigh of his grubby jeans. I’d never understand why my dad opened a Miami Beach themed bar in the armpit of Brooklyn. Latin percussion sounds pumped from speakers and the staff dressed the part with big tropical prints. On top of all that, they served fruity island cocktails decorated with slices of watermelon and pineapple.

The hipster crowd loved it. They thought they’d found a unique gem in the middle of Brooklyn, catering to their whims. In truth, the bar served as a front for the more profitable gambling activities in the bowels of this dump.

VIPs entered through the back door after reciting the secret password that changed nightly. Someone ushered them downstairs, and that’s where the magic happened. Gambling. Drinking. Smoking. And a shitload of women dressed in next to nothing.

In fact, it looked like a seedy Las Vegas casino complete with blackjack tables, roulette wheels, poker tables, and an area dedicated to betting on everything from professional sports to the next president of the United States.

“Here she comes now.” Anatolyi whistled, his head moving unhurriedly from side to side. “You better keep an eye on her tonight. The VIPs will think she’s on the menu.”

My head popped up, and everyone disappeared except Carmela. The red number she wore hugged every curve, and that little flash of skin on her right side made me want to peel off her clothes and lick every golden inch of her body. Her wavy brown hair brushed her breasts with every step. To top it off, her lips were painted ruby red, which made my mouth water and blood rush to my cock.

“Shit,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Shit is right,” he responded a grin spreading across his face. “I think I’ve changed my mind about trading places with you. She’d make a damn good ball and chain.”

I elbowed him in the gut and he grunted. “Go away. I don’t want to look at your ugly mug anymore tonight.”

He took a few steps back with his hands up, his smile bigger than seconds before. “Fine, I’m outta here. You know where to find me if you need me.”

“Hi, Konstantin,” Carmela said. She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear as she surveyed the room. “I’ve never been here before. It’s an interesting place, that’s for sure.”

“You like it?”

“Um…” She angled her head and rolled her lips into her mouth. “Not so much.”

I splayed my hand over my chest. “No? I’m devastated. I was trying to impress you. Oh, and call me Kon. I don’t like people using my full name. It’s too formal.”

“So Kon…” She waved her hand toward the dance floor where a few couples twirled and shimmied to the music. “Are you planning to show me your moves?”

“No.” I downed the rest of my drink, savoring the burn. “We’re going downstairs, unless you want a drink first.”

She eyed the fruity cocktail adorned with fuchsia and turquoise umbrellas. “No, I’m good.”

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