CHAPTER 3

~CAKE~

I’m sitting at the back of Eliana’s SUV, staring out the window while she complains.

“Like who does that?” She fumes, her voice soft and incapable of rising above a certain octave. “How else am I supposed to get work experience without getting hired?”

I hum in agreement, my mind occupied with where the money bag could’ve gone.

It’s making me start to think the dream really happened and the stranger left afterward with the money.

But I know that’s impossible. Nobody entered the apartment and nobody could’ve fucked me without my knowing either.

My mother probably took the money. She must think it’s much safer in her hands. I’ll have to ask her when she gets home from work.

“Are you even listening to me, Bel?”

I blink, putting my thoughts away and turning my head. “Yeah. They’re stupid.”

“Exactly,” she huffs. A curled strand of her strawberry blonde hair falling over her face.

We’re both dressed in stupid suits and ridiculous heels. For an interview that’s just as useless as the others.

Eliana had made us practice questions that they didn’t even ask.

“One of them saw my car and asked me about it. I told them it was a gift from my Dad and they didn’t believe me. Can you imagine?”

I can’t. I don’t have a rich father who gives me anything I want. The only things I have to my name are my boxing gloves, mask, vibrator and journal, three of which are now gone.

I barely scraped through high school, got fed up with college after a year and beat people for money.

The Interviewers hadn’t even bothered to mask their contempt.

“We want someone smart with a master's degree in business.”

In other words, we don’t want you, so fuck off… and I did.

“God, we need to cool off.” Eliana shrugs off her jacket, tossing it in the back next to mine. “I know just the place.”

She leans forward and taps Javier on the shoulder. He looks at her through the rear-view mirror.

“Take us to the La Belle club, please,” she smiles sweetly.

“It’s not even noon,” he says, his voice sounding like gravel.

“There’s no specific time for drinking,” I add with a sly smile I know he hates.

Ever since I met Eliana during my brief stay in college, Javier has been by her side. A personal bodyguard/driver who takes his job too seriously and could be a real fun-killer sometimes.

But he’s not all bad, he taught me a thing or two about computers back in the day and has practically included me in Eliana’s protection.

“It’s too early,” he grumbles, eyes fixed on the road.

“We’ll have one drink,” Eliana pouts and his frown says he doesn’t believe her.

“No.”

A few minutes later, the car rolls to a stop in front of a posh-looking club. Javier is wearing a sour expression as we step out.

“One drink,” he says.

We giggle as we lock arms, answering in unison. “Sí, Javier.”

He mutters something in rapid Spanish and assumes his position behind us, moving like a large wall of shadow.

The club is all velvet ropes, golden lights, and the scent of expensive perfume.

“Let’s get this party started,” Eliana says, sliding into a booth. Javier takes his post a few feet away, and I volunteer to go get the drinks.

“Dirty martinis, please,” I tell the bartender as I lean onto the bar. While I wait, I roll up my sleeves and pull down my hair from the tight bun, feeling the tension fade from my shoulders.

The bartender slides the drinks across the counter and I go to grab it when a hand clamps down on my right arm like a vise.

I look up with fury in my eyes, and the world stops.

A man is staring down at me in a charcoal suit that looks like it cost more than my apartment building. His dark hair is perfectly styled, his face sharp and incredibly handsome. But his eyes…

I know those fucking eyes. Flat and dark as the night sky.

My heart jolts in my chest.

It’s him. The thief, and the man from my fucking sex dream.

My skin suddenly flares with the memory and a faint heat hums in between my thighs.

I see the exact moment he recognizes me, the quick flash of surprise before it turns into anger.

“You, little thief!” He hisses, jerking my arm forward and turning my wrist to reveal my tiny tattoo in Greek letters. His grip is firm, his skin hot against mine, and I immediately yank my hand away from his grip.

“I’m not a thief.”

“Then where is my money?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have it.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Javier moving toward us like a storm cloud. He smoothly steps in front of me, his posture shifting into protection mode.

“Do we have a problem?”

The man doesn’t even blink. He arches a brow, looking past Javier, staring straight at me.

“Move,” he commands.

“No.”

“I have nothing with you. I’m here for the girl with the mismatched eyes.”

Javier folds his arms. “She’s with me.”

A much younger guy appears beside the thief, dressed just as handsomely and eyes us. “Any problem, boss?”

Boss?

“That’s the little thief that stole my money.”

“I didn’t steal your money.” I step around Javier, my voice tight with anger, my fists clenching. I'm five-foot-seven in these heels, but this guy towers over me, like I’m five-foot-nothing.

But I know where to fucking hit.

I feel Javier’s questioning gaze on me but my eyes don’t stray from his face.

“Our bags got switched by mistake and when I woke up this morning, it was gone.”

He scoffs. “You’re telling me ten thousand dollars just vanished into thin air?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m fucking saying.”

“I’m sure you’re not deaf, mister. Now fuck off.”

“It’s okay, Javier.” I touch his rigid arm.

The other guy beside the man steps up with a wolfish smile.

“If I were you, I'd be careful how I talk to the Don of the Vescari mafia.”

My blood instantly runs cold.

The Vescari mafia?

This thief leads a mafia?

It seems Javier is having a similar reaction because he backs down slightly. That’s when Eliana walks up, but he puts out a hand to stop her from coming any closer.

“I’ll ask one last time.” The man’s gaze pierces into me. “Where’s my money?”

I tilt my chin up, not about to be intimidated or scared off. Fighters never fold. “And I said I don’t fucking have it.”

“Then you’ll pay it back, or I’ll kill everyone you love.”

His words come out calm, almost casual.

I laugh humorlessly. “Don’t fucking threaten me, bitch.”

“I’m Nico Vescari. I don’t do threats. Neither do I tolerate lying thieves.”

“If we’re being honest, you’re the fucking thief. And what happened is a mistake. So don’t fucking pull that shit. I don’t have ten fucking grand.”

“Then you leave me no choice.” His eyes darken and I see the promise in them, and through my anger, I realize I can’t convince him of the truth.

From what I’ve heard of the mafia, they’re all cold-blooded killers. The thought of my mother with a bullet in her head chills me.

“Fine then. I’ll pay you back,” I spit, my pride flaring. “Every cent. Just give me time.”

He steps closer, brushing past Javier, who’s watching silently. Those flat dark eyes fall on me like they did in my dream, and he smirks like the devil.

“You have a week. If you don’t provide my money, then you’ll accept my proposal.”

“A week? Are you joking?”

“I don’t joke, either.” A strange, dark flash of fascination crosses his face. He reaches up and lightly traces the line of my jaw, my skin instantly heats up. “You have two choices. My money or…you marry me for one year. After which, your debts to me are wiped clean.”

His words ring in my head like bells. I stare at him in disbelief, wondering when and where he lost his fucking mind.

“You…want me to marry you?” A laugh bubbles up my throat. “You’re fucking insane.”

“For one year, yes,” Nico repeats, his thumb pressing into my chin, forcing me to look at him. “And then you walk away with enough money to never have to step into a ring again.”

“Go to hell,” I say, ripping my face out of his grasp. “I’ll get your fucking money.”

Nico smirks, his words mocking. “You’re a fighter, Belva. I respect that. But even the best fighters know when they’re cornered.”

Javier decides to step between us then, his hand firmly on my shoulder. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Nico doesn't stop us. He just stands there, watching me with that fucking smirk on his face.

As Javier leads Eliana and me toward the exit, I look back over my shoulder.

He’s still watching. He raises a hand, and gives me a two-finger salute like the one I gave him last night.

I respond with a middle finger.

“What the fuck was all of that?” Eliana demands as we climb into the SUV.

My heart is still racing, my skin prickling with fire where he touched me.

“I don’t know.”

But the last thing playing out in my mind as the car speeds off is the way he tongue-fucked in my dream.

I suppress a shiver. A horrible sinking feeling in my gut of the enemy I just made.

That’s trying to fucking marry me.