The bouncers bow low, greeting their boss when we enter Delta. Smoke clouds hang above the thick crowd, filling the space with a fragrant aroma of oranges laced with just a hint of mango.
Almost naked waitresses with trays full of colorful drinks walk among the crowd, wearing nothing but snow-white bras and skirts so short their thongs are showing. Under ultraviolet lights, they shine bright like fireflies. Apart from alcohol, they sell small plastic bags filled with white powder or small pills. I hadn’t noticed it last time.
Enormous mirrors cover the walls, reflecting the strobe lights that fly around the room in uncoordinated directions. A machine above the DJ station releases soap bubbles, and girls giggle, jumping around, trying to pop them. The floor shakes beneath my feet as Dante leads me through the POP music room, my hand in his.
Despite the early hour, the place is packed beyond capacity, thanks to a famous DJ who’s starting his set at midnight. The crowd parts before us like the Red Sea before Moses. The crushing confidence surrounding Dante makes heads turn our way as people scramble to take another look at him. He’s any woman’s dream come true. Under the layer of ruthless arrogance hides an affectionate, passionate man.
My man.
What is it that he sees in me? A corny, inexperienced, pathetic nineteen-year-old craving constant attention. I’m not ugly, but I can point out a dozen prettier girls. He wouldn’t have to abstain from sex if he chose any one of them. It can’t be easy, and I can’t think of one rational reason why he’s so willingly enduring the torture, but I’m thankful. His kisses are addictive enough. I won’t be able to keep him from invading my heart if he claims me whole, and loving him is out of the question.
I squeeze his hand, having a hard time believing he’s not only real but mine too. Frankie was right six months ago when he said he knows what type of woman Dante’s looking for. One like me…
Dante stops, inching closer so he won’t have to shout over Britney blasting from the speakers. “Everything good?”
“Yes, all good.” I rise on my toes, curious whether such a blatant manifestation of feelings will bother him while everyone who can see us watches us with wide eyes.
He doesn’t skip a beat when I close his lips with mine, smiling and satisfied that he won’t hide me like a dirty secret. We take the metal staircase and stop by the bar upstairs. Dante stands behind me, hands gripping the countertop, arms boxing me in, his protectiveness in the highest gear.
No one complains when the bartender walks past ten guys, reaching for a tall glass as he turns to face us. “Mojito?” he asks, even though he’s not the same bartender that was here two weeks ago.
“And the usual for everyone,” Dante says.
“I’ll send a waitress over in five.”
I’m overcome with stage fright once we move toward the largest booth in the club. Two half-moon white leather sofas that easily fit twenty people face each other, and a round metal table stands in the middle. A tall sheet of glass separates the booth, either protecting whoever is there or dulling down the music.
I tug my hand free from Dante’s grip, and brush my hair out of my face for the hundredth time when I spot two blonde Goddesses worthy of a Miss America title. Then, auburn locks catch my eye, the owner a stunning girl who laughs with her arms wrapped around Luca’s neck.
“They should envy your sense of style.” Dante halts me mid-step. “Miniskirts and boobs showing are trademarks of undervalued teens. You look like a real woman.”
“I’d say I look like a well-behaved schoolgirl.”
The corners of his mouth twitch, eyes roving down my body. “Every man’s fantasy.”
“Girls at school hated me because of Frank. It’d be nice if these beauties at least refrain from talking behind my back.”
“You won’t escape that. They’ll talk because you’re here with me.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re the first girl I’ve brought here, Star.”
Way to make me even more nervous.
“Clockwise,” he says, starting with Rookie. “You know this one, his girl Jane, Spades, Nate and Bianca, Cai and Luna, Sandra and Luca. The smartass at the end is Jackson.”
Compared to the four girls, I look like I fled a seminary for nuns. They’re wearing flashy, revealing dresses, their necks adorned with more jewelry than any jewelry store I’ve ever been to. Despite the visual difference between us, I feel welcome. Furthermore, Sandra, the owner of auburn hair and a pretty, freckled face, smiles at me over the table as if we’re best friends.
“I think I know you from somewhere,” I say, looking at Jane. “Don’t we have sociology lectures together?”
“Yes! Where’s your bodyguard? God! Newson was fuming when she brought him to class!” she tells Rookie, squeezing his arm.
“Burly’s off the hook now. Frankie no longer cares about my safety.”
Dante leans closer, whispering in my ear. “That’s my job now.” He pecks my temple.
A waitress brings a tray with drinks a moment later, handing out twelve glasses to their respective owners. The mojito tastes much better than the ones I made at Dante’s house.
I listen to the conversations for half an hour, joining in whenever I can so they won’t think I’m rude. I am, but I’m making an effort not to be tonight. The girls seem friendly, but I’m immediately drawn to Bianca. She reminds me of Allie with one difference: a sense of humor. Allie has none, while Bianca’s a full-on joker. She’s goofing around, making everyone chuckle when she swears like a sailor, lighting one cigarette after another.
The waitress brings over fresh drinks five minutes later, and the men rise from their seats.
“A few things that need taking care of,” Dante says, kissing me softly. “Back in half an hour.”
“It’s like this every week,” Bianca explains, noticing my confusion. “They have a drink with us, then go away. They’re usually back within the hour. You’ll get used to it.”
That depends on how long I’ll be by Dante’s side.
Sandra leans over the table, all smiles, and wide eyes. “Go on! Walk us through it! How did you two get together? Luca says you came here two weeks ago.”
“It’s the only place in Chicago where my father’s people aren’t welcome. I needed a breather without his men watching my every move.”
Jane beams, joining in. “How did you get Dante himself to fall at your feet? He’s not easily impressed. I’ve been dating Rookie for a year, but I haven’t seen Dante leave the club with a woman. Not even once. What did you do to him?!”
“Um… nothing. I asked him to leave me alone when he offered to buy me a drink.”
Sandra exchanges a knowing look with Bianca and Jane. “So, you played hard to get?”
“No. I simply didn’t want him around. It shouldn’t surprise you with all the hatred between Dante and my father.”
“So, how come you’re here?” Luna asks, arms crossed.
I’m growing annoyed with the nosy inquisition. I can’t explain how my status changed from mafia boss’s daughter to mafia boss’s girlfriend because I still don’t know how that happened. “Dante’s doesn’t exactly quit without a fight,” I say, looking at Bianca bouncing in her seat. “Should we go?” I point to the dancing crowd.
“We can’t go there,” Luna says, turning her head the other way, lips pursed. “Our men don’t dance, Layla, so, obviously, we’re not allowed to dance with other men.”
“Who said anything about other men? We can have fun together.” I stand, pulling my dress down, but neither of the girls follow my lead. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of them. What will they do?”
“Layla, you can’t go down there.” Sandra pleads. “Didn’t Dante tell you?”
“Tell me what? that I can’t dance?” I scoff, finishing off my drink. “No, he failed to mention that. C’mon, get up. You can tell them it was my idea.”
Jane saves me from an embarrassing situation, rising onto her stiletto heels. Once she’s up, the other three stand too. We find enough space so we can all dance in a small circle. Disclosure and a remix of “You and Me” blasts from the speakers. My new friends enjoy the music, losing themselves in the beat. Seeing their kind smiles, I stop worrying about whether I fit in. I’m the first one forced to push away a guy who wants to dance with me. Luna does the same when a tall, dark-haired man reaches for her hand, swaying as if he’s had a few too many. I don’t want to get them in trouble, but if no one’s hitting on us, Dante and his men shouldn’t have a reason to keep us upstairs.
Or so I hope.
“I can’t remember the last time I danced!” Bianca shouts over the music. “I’m so glad you’re here!”
Songs blur together. I count eleven tunes before I realize men have been steering clear of our little gathering for a while. I glance around, smiling at two bodyguards who stand fifteen feet away by two tall pillars that support the balcony. They shove aside anyone who comes near our tight circle. I look up, knowing the security didn’t devise this brilliant idea alone. Six pairs of eyes watch us from the balcony. Only Dante’s missing. Rookie holds a glass of whiskey, pointing behind me. A second later, a warm arm snakes around my middle, and I’m turned around, meeting Dante’s lips.
His hands slide down my body as he deepens the kiss, his tongue skimming mine slowly. “How about a break? You’re barely catching a breath.”
“Okay, a break sounds good. But only a short one.” I gesture for the girls to follow us upstairs, where fresh drinks wait on the table.
Rookie shakes his hand, readjusting his wristwatch, eyes on me. I’m not sure if he’s annoyed or amused. “I guess it was your idea to take them dancing?”
“It wasn’t easy to convince them.”
“There’s a rule Dante apparently hadn’t mentioned,” Luca growls. “You stay here because we have enough shit to deal with without worrying about you.” He rolls up his sleeves, exposing the colorful tattoos snaking up his arms. “You attract trouble like a magnet, so do us all a favor and stop rebelling.”
Dante tenses beside me, leaning forward, ready to interject. I squeeze his thigh under the table, silently asking him to zip it. If I want respect, I have to earn it.
“Change your attitude, Luca,” I say, unaffected by his reluctance. “You don’t know me well enough or long enough for your tone to sit well with me.”
Frank’s pawns treat me just like Luca does; like a silly little girl they can walk all over. I’ve dealt with men like Luca more than I should. Compared to the son of New York’s mafia boss, Luca’s child’s play. He may look impenetrable to an untrained eye, but I’ve dealt with his kind all my life, and Luca sure lacks confidence. He cocks an eyebrow at me, making another mistake. I don’t think he knows how to handle my attitude. The other girls probably never talk back, so he must’ve thought I’ll recant and shut up. Wrong address.
He casts a loaded look at Dante, his jaw flexing as he grinds his teeth.
“Don’t look at him,” I snap, setting my glass aside. “He won’t help you. You started with me, so you’ll deal with me.”
Dante chuckles while everyone around the table remains silent, watching us as if watching tennis, heads turning from me to Luca and back.
“You don’t use your brain for work, so worrying about your girl shouldn’t be so exhausting. Don’t even start talking about safety. We’re not up North where everyone wants you dead. You think anyone will dare touch Sandra knowing she’s with you?”
“Not many people know she’s with me. We don’t print it in the local newspaper,” he says in an arrogant tone. “They always stay here. They never object, so be a doll and don’t get in the fucking middle.”
Not many people know… how can they be so careless?
“Who does Adam date?” I ask.
“Allie Carter.”
“And?” I urge, but he doesn’t grasp what I’m telling him. “Did you read about it in a newspaper?” I look at Dante. “Didn’t it occur to you it might be good if all the scumbags know who they should steer clear of?” Up North, all the junkies know which girls are off-limits.
“Luca’s right, Star,” Dante says, glancing at the girls. “You never said you wanted to dance, and we don’t read minds. If you want to have fun, I don’t see a problem. I’ll make sure we have two more bodyguards on Saturdays, so they keep an eye on you.” He glances around his men. “All good?”
No one disagrees but Luca’s sulking. “Is this what it’ll be like now? You’ll agree with everything Layla says?”
“If she’s right, then yes.”
They stare each other down like two lions, ready to tear the other’s aorta, but Luca’s in the losing position. He looks away, aware that forcing his opinion on Dante won’t end well.
“Do you have a sister, Layla?” Jackson asks, relaxing the atmosphere. “I could do with a feisty girl like you.”
“Sorry, Daddy only made one of me.”
