Page 42 of Corso DeLuca

“I’m listening.”

“Don’t slip up with this guy. Men like him don’t play nice with others.”

Too late. The moment he locked those cuffs around my wrists, things slid into wet and wild territory. Primarily, between my thighs, but I’d be lying if I denied he uncovered a part of me that even I want to explore.

“Don’t worry,” I say, pulling my car in front of The Governor’s valet and handing over the keys.

“Can’t help it.” He chuckles. “I actually like you.”

“I like you, too. Bye, now.” Corso’s establishment intersects at two corners, towering over the surrounding contemporary office complexes. The neoclassic facade stretches across four city blocks with forward facing restaurants, boutique dress shops, spas, and Al Di La’s, an upscale night club and restaurant. The business plan, one that involves everyday luxuries that commingle the city’s elite and the criminal underworld, is a brilliant cover. It keeps government agencies like mine from taking a battering ram to the front door and raze the whole damn thing to the ground and ruining my press and curl in the process.

My heels eat up the expansive lobby with a steady, soft thud of my wedge heel boots, I inhale the calming lavender scent that greets every patron. Navigating around a rolling luggage cart being pushed by an attractive young woman drumming a tap-tap cadence on the metal frame, I spot Corso through the half-glass partition separating the lobby from Al Di La’s first floor casual dining area. Despite my better judgment, I smile when I hear his laughter.

“Excuse me, miss,” the female bellman says, cutting in front of me again.

Briefly, I glance in her direction. The oval name badge attached to her jacket is embossed with the name Dani. “No problem,” I say meeting her green-eyed gaze.

Slowly, she rolls away, still tapping. My attention shifts back to Corso. He’s seated at one of the marble tables gracing the black and white mosaic tile. He reclines back in his chair. I can see the other chairs at the table… specifically, the one across from him.

He’s not alone.

My heart stops when I see him kiss a beautiful young woman on the cheek and take a baby from her arms. He tosses the little cherubic ball of arms and legs up in the air.

Something inside of me breaks open. I expect the rising emotion to be hurt, but its fury—raw—angry—slap his face for playing me the fool.

It’s as if Red Bull has given me wings because I fly across the lobby.

I walk right up to the table where Corso is seated. Leaning down, I get in his face. “You lying sack of shit. I knew you were playing me.Giving me all that “Michael Jackson’s Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough” bullshit. If I had enough evidence, I’d haul your knuckle-dragging ass out of here. And this bitch too.”

The woman sitting with Corso stares at me, her brown eyes and mouth stretched wide with shock. Oh, I got something for his baby mama.Shit, the words are like a knife to my heart.

“He was with me yesterday? That’s right. We fucked. His lying ass made me believe we had a connection. He actually showed up at my place of business, not even an hour ago, inviting me to lunch. And then when I said I couldn't make it… wait for it. He called your ass.”

“Jessie. Stop talking,” I hear Corso growl, but I’m taking him down, so there’s no way I'm done talking.

“No,” I smirk. “I’ve been through this shit… a man taking advantage of me, filling my head with lies and then running around with another woman.”

“When I’m done, you won’t sit for a week,” he threatens. We stare at each other. His gaze is intense, and I struggle not to look away. It’s like he’s hearing something other than what I’m saying. And why do I get the sense he’s actually aroused by this shit? Twisted fucker.

I roll my eyes heavenward. “In your dreams. That’s the only way you’ll see my ass again.”

“You done?” he grits out, voice coarse.So, he doesn’t like me pointing out that it’s over. Finished. I’m done.

“I don’t think so, boo. If I see your ass around my place of employment, I'm going to put a bullet in it.” I'm on a roll, and no one in the vicinity is spared my wrath, including his beautiful, melanin popping baby mama. I clap my hands. It's loud and over the top. Some patrons stare at us, others only watch Corso. Like that female bellman. She’s focused on him as if waiting for a signal. To what? Call security. Ah, that would not go over well with the captain, so I land my final blow. “And just so you know, Corso, her baby doesn’t look anything like you.” And I would know.

“That’s because he’s my son,” a baritone voice says from behind me.

I startle, one hand flying up to grip my chest. “Shit,” I gasp, spinning around to face the newcomer. A gorgeous tall man, bald, bearded, with an olive complexion, regards me. “Who the hell are you?” I demand.

“My husband,”that obviously infuriated woman seated across from Corso snaps.

“Jessie,” Corso says through clenched teeth, “sit.”

He points to the seat next to him, but I'm momentarily pinned in place by the two hostile stares boring into me.

“Aw… what’s going on here?” I ask, more than a little confused.

Corso’s lips are pressed tight together, none too pleased with me.“Sit your hostile jealous ass down, woman.”