Yours Wickedly

DANTE

Two weeks later.

“I've been looking for you.” I said to the man who knelt before my desk, his face caked with blood, looking terrified as he should be.

I used to believe in family, until my brother betrayed me, murdered our father and my sister walked away like none of it mattered.

I don't blame her.

She had a chance at a normal life.

But me? I don't have that luxury.

Not while every gang in this city was out to get the new Don. And I will kill anyone who dares to try.

I poured myself a glass of whiskey. “You came to us, and I offered you one simple job: ship the cargo, get paid, and repeat. And you broke that cycle.”

The captive didn't dare to speak.

“Jonas, six packs of cigars were missing from the last shipment you handled.” I said, keeping my voice steady, then I yelled at the top of my voice. “WHERE ARE THEY?!”

Jonas squeezed his eyes shut. “I'm sorry, I thought it wouldn't matter if I took some. I didn't sell them, I promise.”

My mouth twitched, and I couldn't stop myself from chuckling, while Jonas' eyes flashed with confusion.

“They're really good, aren't they?” I rose from my chair, and buttoned my jacket, as I approached him. “Best on the East Coast.”

Before Jonas knew it, I'd grabbed a blade and sunk the tip through his palm, pinning it to the desk. Blood gushed out. Jonas' scream echoed in the room.

“And worth more than your life!” I growled in his ear. “Double-cross me again and I’ll cut your fucking throat!”

I motioned to the soldado in the office to get the moron out.

My new consigliere, Frankie, had been sitting in the corner watching quietly.

“Animals!” I spat angrily. “Can't even get the damn cigars without someone skimming off it.”

Frankie cleared his throat. “I'm surprised you didn't kill him.”

“He's the best navigator on the crew.” I replied, “This should get the others to fall in line.”

I don't know why, but my thoughts raced back to Sierra.

For the love of God...I kissed a stripper!

God knows who else she'd kissed.

Thinking of her with other men should have turned me off; instead, it made me want to strangle them.

But Sierra was bold and headstrong; I loved that in a woman.

I could almost hear my father's voice, low and mocking me.

Dante, my boy, you're losing it.

* * * * * * * *

SIERRA

The producer frowned at my resume. “The crazy chick who attacked the Great Anton Petrowski?” He stamped the folder. “Denied!”

He didn't even let me audition for the Shakespearean ballet. I stormed out of Symphony Dance Studio. I wasn't having a good day.

So, this was going to be my life now.

My ballet dreams had been crushed to dust, and the nightclub would forever be my burden, until Santini decided to stop being greedy and end my contract.

God, I was so sick of exotic dancing.

I wanted to scream at the crowd tossing money at me every night, and I'd do anything to end it.

Feeling hot from the humidity, I stopped by a sundae bar I liked. The place was empty, except for a man sitting at the counter.

“Blueberry Blast.” I told the sales clerk.

“I liked your show last night.” The man suddenly said, looking at me. “Serena, right?”

A wave of panic rushed through me. “Look, buddy, I'm not in the mood for stalkers or signing autographs.”

How were people starting to recognize me out of the mask?

“Don't flatter yourself, cupcake.” He scoffed, showing me a badge.

FBI

Frowning, I rolled my eyes. “Okay, I liked it better when I thought you were a creep. I told your colleagues to quit bothering me weeks ago.”

The FBI wanted me to spy on Dante and gather intel.

“This might just be the worst case I've ever taken.” Agent Seth Graham sighed. “We had two Spinelli's down last year. Baby Spinelli's a psychopath, and he needs to be stopped.”

They say his empire is built on the blood of his father and brother. I knew firsthand that he would do whatever it took to remain in power.

The ice cream in my mouth turned sour, just thinking about Dante. “So? Ask one of your G.I. Joe crew to take him down.”

“It's not that simple.” Seth stated. “The FBI needs you, Sierra Monroe. We think he likes you.”

“Go to hell.” I tossed back.

What had the FBI ever done for me anyway?

“We'll get you a recommendation to whichever studio you want.” Seth promised. “That contract you have with Santini won't stand a chance after this.”

That caught my attention.

Back at the apartment, I lay on my bed still thinking about their offer.

Jesus.

Why couldn't I stop thinking about him?

All because of a stupid kiss!

I grabbed a pen and paper from my purse and began to write down the words that I'd been fighting to scream at Dante since the night he took my mask off.

Dante,

You watched me take the pole, like I was just another toy you could play with. You treat women like trophies, elegant things to hold and throw away after use. Your arrogance to them is unbearable.

I can't help but feel there's a darkness behind your eyes, that stupid hair slicked with gel that's probably worth more than my rent, your tongue is like a double-edged knife, and your wicked smile could melt steel.

Someday, I will be your undoing, you will beg for my touch, and every kiss will be as empty as your heart, leaving you desperate and unfulfilled, until every thought leads back to one person.

Me.

Yours Wickedly,

Sierra.

Unable to contain myself, I screamed into my pillow until my cheeks flushed bright pink.

I can't believe I wrote that.

It's a good thing, because he'll never read it.

I picked up my cell phone and dialed a number.

“You've reached the FBI's private hotline,” the automated voice spoke. “Who do you wish to speak with?”

No matter what happens, I was going to be the reason Don Dante Spinelli's empire burned.