Page 11 of Because I Need You
I took the elevator upstairs, where I figured the office had to be. It stopped on the second floor, where there was another large bar, and some kind of VIP area. Instead of going left, I went right and walked the hallway until I reached double doors. I opened them and stepped inside, turning around to close them gently, grateful that the music was no longer blaring in my ears.
“May I help you?” A woman behind me asked, making me jump out of my skin. I turned around and faced her. She was Black, with platinum blonde hair cropped all the way to her scalp and dressed in an all-black tight leather outfit that fit her like a glove. She looked like a fucking badass, with dainty features and an air of femininity, though her features were the only soft thing about her.
“Um. Hi,” I managed.
“Hi.” She eyed me curiously.
“I’m looking for Giovanni Masseria.”
“For what exactly?” She gave me a full, slow, once over now.
“I need to speak to him. It’s urgent.”
“It’s always urgent.” She set a hand on her narrow hip.
She was trying to make me nervous, and maybe I should have been, but a part of me thrived in situations like these. It was a weird thing, what traumatic events did to you. I’d seen some people succumb to them and become a shell of themselves, and others break past it and become total badasses. I was somewhere in the middle, if I was being honest, and I really couldn’t afford to be scared right now.
“Please. Tell him Isabel Bonetti is here to see him.”
“Bonetti.” She raised an eyebrow, eyeing me closely again. “Interesting.”
“Will you please relay the message?”
“Wait here.” I watched her walk over to the next set of double doors, which she pulled open slightly, not even putting her entire face in as she spoke. I heard a man bark out words but couldn’t catch quite what he was saying. She shut the door and turned to me with a polite smile that threw me off slightly.
“He’s not taking visitors at the moment.”
“Did you tell him my name?”
“Didn’t get to that part.” She pursed her lips. “Would you like to wait? I can fetch you a drink, but I can’t promise he’ll see you.”
“Why are you being cordial all of a sudden?” I narrowed my eyes slightly.
“Because you’re a Bonetti,” she said, as if it were obvious.
“And that means?”
She just stared at me, kind of smiling, kind of curious, as she walked to the door. “What do you like to drink?”
“Tequila on the rocks, with a lime,” I said, looking at the double doors in front of me.
As soon as I heard her walk out, I looked over my shoulder to make sure she was no longer there, and stepped forward, pounding on the door.
“What the fuck, Petra?” a man barked from the other side so angrily that even I stiffened, but it only fueled the anger I’d already been bottling up, because how dare he?
He’d signed a freaking marriage license without my consent. He was probably just waiting for me to let my guard down before barging into my life and demanding whatever it is he wanted. I’d looked him up, too, this Giovanni guy. Total womanizing playboy. He was hot, yes, but everything else I’d read about him made him a little less hot in my eyes. He owned a ton of nightclubs and a couple of restaurants. Definitely involved in organized crime. There were dozens of message boards dedicated to discussing his underground businesses. That angered me further, because it meant that my father, my sweet, funny, caring father was also somehow involved in organized crime. With that in mind, I turned the doorknob and walked inside uninvited. The office was massive, the lighting dim. It reminded me of a restaurant or a spa. The chair was turned around, so he hadn’t seen me yet. If this was any more ridiculous and Godfather like, I would have laughed, but I wasn’t in the mood to laugh.
“What is it now?” he asked, sounding tired or bored. I wasn’t sure which pissed me off more. “Did you find the bitch or not?”
“If the bitch you’re referring to is your wife, the answer is yes.”
The chair swiveled around quickly, his dark eyes landing on mine and narrowing instantly. I stopped breathing for a moment. For the sake of my own sanity, I tried very hard not to find him attractive. I tried, and failed, because the man sitting in front of me, claiming to be my husband, was by far the most attractive man I’d ever seen in person. The internet pictures definitely hadn’t done him justice. It didn’t matter, though. I wanted my name out of whatever equation he and my father had come up with. Besides, he was looking at me like he wanted to rip my head off, and that was all I needed to find him less attractive at the moment. I squared my shoulders.
