Ghosted: A Mafia Assassin Romance (Team Zero Book 2) Page 4

  I can feel his gaze burning a hole in the back of my neck, but I don’t dare to peek behind me, both to appear submissive and from the nerves. I’m barely reining in the spasming of my leg.

  After what seems like forever, the man walks to sit on the chair opposite mine.

  I measure him from bottom to top. Black leather shoes. Pressed black trousers. Both his arms rest on the chair’s armrests. One of his wrists is bandaged. Intricate tattoos seep from underneath his cuffs and cover the back of his hand.

  Wait.

  Those tattoos are familiar. Way too familiar.

  My gaze snaps to his face. My body stiffens.

  He’s watching me with a tilted head. The golden rings in his eyes swallow me like they did earlier today. They’re even more frightening now. Calculative. Dark.

  The stranger from the alley.

  How...?

  Did he follow me? Was he keeping an eye on me on Mist’s behalf?

  My brain goes into overdrive. He saw me fight. He knows I can fight. Will that stop Mist from accepting me?

  No. She said if I impress him, I’ll be in.

  All I have to do is make him accept me.

  Whatever it takes.

  Chapter Four

  I can and will do this.

  Ma was many things and I had my disagreements with her, but she was stunning. I inherited those genes; the deep blue eyes and chestnut hair and soft features. They always bothered me because no one took me seriously in the fighting ring.

  Until I kicked their arses.

  Now is one of those times to prove my worth. Only this is a lot different from an underground match. Punching, kicking? No problem. Talking to a handsome man? That’s an entirely different bag altogether.

  The man staring at me with a tilted head is another type of opponent. I just have to impress him instead of kicking his arse.

  For Zoe.

  With a deep breath, I stand with a grace I’ve been copying from the girls I practised around. The key is to sway my hips a little, but not to the point of overkill.

  I saunter to the mini-bar on the side of the office, making sure to take my time. I stop in front of the bottles. The smell of scotch and bourbon brings a wave of familiarity. Now, alcohol is something I can deal with.

  “What would you like to drink?” I would guess whiskey. He seems like the whiskey type.

  I think.

  “What makes you think you can offer me a drink?” His deep voice sounds right behind me. His heat radiates down my back.

  I flinch. I didn’t even hear him approach. He made himself noticeable earlier, but now, it’s like he floated through the air or something.

  Reining in my reaction, I turn around. I’m struck by the proximity. My chest grazes his, and I swiftly step back against the cabinet to put distance between us. The wood digs into my back, and it takes everything in me not to knee or punch him away.

  Instead, I adopt my sweetest tone. “Why can’t I offer you a drink?”

  I know why, but I don’t say it aloud so I won’t appear too smart for my own good.

  Risk of poisoning, that’s why. It demands a level of trust to accept a drink in their world. Especially if he goes higher in rank. Is this Julian perhaps on the same level as Kyle?

  As much as it was simple to categorise the latter in the ‘to be used’ list, I don’t think I’ll be able to stack Julian as easily in there.

  His piercing eyes are fishing into my soul, and something tells me he’s not the type who gives up until he catches what he’s searching for.

  Whatever that is.

  “Why are you here?” he asks instead of answering my question.

  “To work,” I say in my coolest tone.

  He tilts his head to the side and measures me from the top of my head to the tip of my stilettos. Unlike Kyle, he doesn’t stop to ogle my chest. He just seems to be weighing me up in a non-sexual manner. Like I would do to an opponent before a fight.

  A mixture of pride and fear overwhelm me. Pride because I like that he’s taking me seriously. People usually underestimate me. Fear for the same reason. It’s not in my best interest if he doubts me.

  Unlike with Kyle, I’m so self-conscious, it takes effort not to tug on the stupid short dress.

  “You want me to believe that someone who kicked Johnny in the crotch needs to work here?”

  Think. Think. “He deserved it.” I go with the truth instead. Judging from how he twisted that wanker’s wrist, he must be on bad terms with him.

  Julian’s lips twitch again, but he’s not smiling. Does he even do smiling?

  “That he did, Firefly.” He tilts his head again. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

  “What, a girl can’t defend herself? Do we all have to wait for someone else to do it for us?”

  “As I was saying, someone like you wouldn’t want to work here.”

  His hand reaches for me. I don’t have a warning before his long, lean fingers wrap around my neck. He holds me in place, firm enough to stop me from moving, but he isn’t squeezing. His thumb rests on my pulse point, probably trying some human lie detector technique. Liam trained me for this. All I have to do is remain confident.

  Easier said than done.

  My skin heats, and my hand twitches to punch him away. This position is so vulnerable, and I hate being vulnerable.

  I swore to never be vulnerable after Ma’s death.

  However, I rein in the reflex and stare up at him. His face turns stone cold. “Why are you here?”

  “I told you. It’s to work.” I clench my fist on the hem of my dress, both to make him believe I’m desperate, and because I am desperate. “I can no longer go back to my house and if I don’t find work, I’ll be homeless.”

  A flicker of something crosses the depth of his dark eyes. It’s similar to surprise, but not quite. Nostalgia? Pain? Whatever it is, it seems like he feels the meaning behind my words. Perhaps he could? The moment passes as fast as it came, and his face goes back to its impassivity.

  “Just give me a chance,” I press. “I will do anything.”

  His thumb glides from my pulse to my lips. I swallow. Tingles shoot down my spine and settle between my legs. The place where he touches me ignites in a thousand fires.

  What the hell is this reaction? And why is my mouth itching to open for him?

  I don’t get to decide. Julian parts my lips with his thumb and traces my lower lip in a slow, sensual touch. My legs weaken like I’ve just finished a marathon.

  “Anything is a strong word, Firefly. Don’t use it idly.”

  He removes his hand and for some foolish reason, my lips feel empty.

  Julian turns around and heads towards the door.

  “Wait!” I push off the counter. “How about my acceptance?”

  “Only a waitress. Nothing more.” He throws over his shoulder, voice dripping with discontentment.

  Julian reaches into his pocket and tosses me something way above my head and out of reach. I leap to catch it, and then I realise my mistake.

  He’s tilting his head in questioning.

  Julian is definitely testing my reflexes.

  My eyes fall on the object he’s given me, and my lips part.

  My bracelet. Zoe’s gift.

  I almost cry with joy.

  Julian does a once over with those inquisitive, unnerving dark eyes before he focuses on my face. “Don’t put your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  The door clicks shut behind him.

  A tornado of emotions takes me over. Anger that he thinks I can’t be anything more than a waitress. Not that I want to, God no, but screw him for underestimating me. The last person who told me I can’t be something — like girls can’t box — had his nose broken in a match.

  Relief that the audition was over without me having to do anything that would cause my skin to crawl.

  Confusion about the whole voodoo that went through my body when he touched me.

  But most of all, I grin with the sense of accomplishment. I’m in. A step closer to finding Zoe.

  And Julian is one thousand percent on the ‘to be avoided’ list.

  I have no time for his mind games and whatever is going on in those dark, sinister eyes.

  Le Salon’s staff and workers are required to live in the mansion. They say it’s for security. I say it’s to keep a close watch on us and eliminate anyone if a problem arises.

  Perhaps that’s what happened to Zoe.

  I shoo the thought away as fast as it came. I refuse to believe that something lethal happened to her. She’s a survivor. No one would be able to bring her to her knees.

  My room is on the third floor, the farthest possible from all the other girls’ and Mist’s office. I’m sure Julian had something to do with it.

  He’s going to be a pain in the arse if he keeps suspecting me.

  I roll my suitcase behind me. I’m sure it’s been searched thoroughly.

  As soon as I open the door, bubbly energy greets me. A loud nineties’ rock song fills the air. A girl who looks about my age, possibly younger, is dancing to the song — or more like jumping up and down on the bed. She’s wearing pink shorts and a pastel peach-coloured T-shirt on which is written ‘Polite as Fuck.’ Her face is mostly camouflaged by thick strands of platinum blonde hair.

  I’m about to call for her attention when the music comes to an abrupt halt. The girl hops down from the bed and pushes the wild mane off her face. Deep amber eyes stare at me with an excited gleam. Her petite features and translucent skin give her a doll’s appearance. Cliché, but she really looks like a real-life porcelain doll.

  Up close, she seems no older than eighteen. Are they recruiting minors here? The thought makes my blood boil.

  “Say, Oa
sis is a legend.”

  I stare, incredulous. “What?”

  “You have to say it.” Even her voice is as soft as her features.

  “Oasis is a legend?”

  She opens her arms and clasps me in a hug. “I love you already, new roomie.”

  I stiffen then awkwardly pat her back.

  The girl finally pushes away and offers me a warm smile. “I’m Scarlett. You can call me Scar.”

  “I’m Emmanuelle. Elle is fine.”

  “Sweet!” She drapes her arm around my shoulder. She smells of a sweet cherry perfume. “We’re going to have so much fun, Elle! Since your name is French, did you know that the French Army was the largest in the world, but Hitler still occupied France in World War Two?”

  “No?” I don’t know why it came out as a question, but the random fact threw me off. I would’ve never thought that Scarlett would be interested in World War Two. But I’m probably stereotyping since it’s only our first meeting.

  “Let me help with unpacking!” She jumps at my suitcase even before I’m fully inside.

  I close the door and follow her. Countless makeup products are scattered on her console. Scarlett strolls to a walk-in wardrobe made from fine wood. The space inside is ridiculously large. It’s almost the same size as the room. Most of it is filled with endless elegant dresses that put mine to shame.

  A giant poster in black and white of a man with a guitar is plastered on the door of the wardrobe. Oasis’ lead singer, if I remember correctly.

  Clothes and shoes and accessories are all over the place. She must take hours to find what she’s looking for.

  Scarlett and I would agree on this. Organising was my pet peeve with Zoe. She’s such a neat freak.

  I find a few empty shelves that I’m sure will be more than enough for my clothes.

  My gaze darts to Scarlett. She’s humming the tune from the song earlier while kicking boxes out of the way to make a room for walking.

  Scarlett strikes me as odd for this type of place. She’s too bubbly and outgoing. But that’s possibly because I have no close people other than Zoe and Liam. Normal people make friends all the time. Scarlett is obviously nice and my perfect opportunity to get inside info.

  I help in clearing the space. “How long have you been here?”

  She glances down, still humming. “About a year?”

  “Were you a minor when you came here?” I barely contain a shout.

  “A minor?” She laughs out loud, head tipping back. “You’re so funny, Elle. I’m twenty-seven.”

  “Whoa. Really?” That’s three years older than me. I do another look-over. She doesn’t seem one year older than eighteen. “You appear so young.”

  “I have a baby face.” She grins. “I like you, Elle. I hope you stay. My previous roommate just up and disappeared.”

  My ears prickle. Could she be talking about Zoe? I play nonchalant and hang the closest dress. “Disappeared?”

  “Yeah. You have to be careful, you know.” All smiles and bubbly energy vanish. Scarlett leans close to whisper, “Those who upset the big heads are gone.”

  My muscles lock and my lips purse.

  No. Zoe can’t be –

  “I’m kidding!” Scarlett laughs as she pushes away. “They just quit.”

  I’m sure as hell they don’t quit. Everything in me pushes to ask more questions, but Scarlett could become wary. Julian already suspects me. I don’t need more trouble this early on.

  A knock sounds on the door.

  Kyle saunters inside. He’s in another fashionable denim jacket and dark blue trousers that bring out the matching colour of his eyes.

  Scarlett jumps like she’s a kid who’s receiving her favourite toy. “Kylie!!”

  He opens his arms and she dives right in, planting sloppy kisses on his cheek. Talk about PDA. They only leave each other’s embraces after I start fidgeting.

  “Ready to party for my birthday, ladies?” His gaze twinkles with mischief as they dip my way. “I knew ye would be accepted, love.”

  “Thanks for the morale boost.” I grin back. “I don’t think I’m allowed to go with you?”

  I assume Scarlett is an escort and Kyle obviously has rank. I’m a waitress, so there’s a hierarchy somewhere.

  “’Course, ye are!” He snaps his fingers. “I’m the birthday boy. I have a say in everything tonight.”

  Parties turn me into a nervous bomb. The chaos always drives me mad, but it’s my chance to learn something. Hopefully, the other girls are as welcoming as my roommate.

  Though...

  My fists clench. What if something is expected of me in the lowlifes’ gathering? I know I’m just a waitress, but who knows how things go in events like these? Even if it’s for Zoe, I don’t think I can offer my body for sacrifice.

  I won’t be Ma. Ever.

  Scarlett changes into a stunning little black dress and does a look over at me. Apparently, she approves of the dress since she nods, but she sits me down and does a quick retouching of my makeup. After she’s done, the three of us are out of the door.

  Scarlett and Kyle are laughing and clinging to each other as we walk down the hall. Perhaps they’re a couple. But judging from how Kyle is draping his other arm around my shoulder – that I’m itching to twist – I wouldn’t be so sure.

  As we pass through the floor with Mist’s office, I ask, “Will everyone be at the party?”

  “Of course!” Scarlett says. “Mist already gathered all the girls. All of us will party!”

  “As in everyone?” I ask.

  Kyle grins. “Yup. It’s me birthday after all. No one gets to skip.”

  This is my chance.

  I know this isn’t ideal since I just came in, but if they will all be at the party, this could be my only chance to look for security footage from the day of Zoe’s disappearance.

  In exchange, I might be kicked out or worse... killed. I’ll just have to be careful. If there are any red signs, I’ll fly back to the party and pretend nothing happened.

  Before we ascend the stairs, I say, “I need the toilet.”

  “Down the hall.” Kyle points and touches my cheek. “Don’t be long, love.”

  I resist the urge to wipe my face as I smile and walk where he directs me. As soon as they’re out of sight with Scarlett laughing and talking in her bubbly energy, I take the turn towards Mist’s office. I keep an eye on the hallways in case anyone shows up.

  Sweat trickles down my back and my muscles lock. Spying is a lot harder than I thought. I can’t even breathe properly.

  I finally arrive at the door, and it’s... ajar. My heartbeat thunders. Hushed voices murmur from the other side, but I can’t make them out. I lean close enough to glue my ear to the door.

  That’s when I hear a man saying the name, “...Ghost...”

  My pulse spikes up.

  He could be here.

  The man who instigated Zoe’s disappearance could be right behind this door.

  A strong hand lands on my shoulder before a familiar, deep voice fills my ears. “What did I say about putting your nose where it doesn’t belong, Firefly?”

  Chapter Five

  Of course, this firefly would put her nose where it doesn’t belong. Not that I expected anything different. This woman is full of contradictions.

  Contradictions mean suspicious.

  She whirls around, filling my air with a rosy scent or some nonsense that still manages to make me dizzy.

  To her credit, she conceals her surprise well. Those bright blue eyes are staring at me with the utmost innocence like she doesn’t understand what she’s doing here.

  Playing daft. I like it.

  She’s on a whole different level from any other spy. Someone who’s smart about their survival.

  I don’t like the idea of having her here, of someone digging where they shouldn’t, but Mist did her research. The woman has no family or place to go back to.

  My life prior to The Pit is mismatched patches of memories, but I remember being homeless so well. The cold. The hunger. Mist, Shadow, and I slept so closely together to warm each other. We stole to eat and were beaten by older homeless people.

  No one deserves that.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” She drawls, wiggling from under my hand. “I was looking for the ladies’ room.”

  What a liar.

  “Of course you were.” I tilt my head to the side and point behind me. “It’s that way.”