AN: I've had that song on the side on repeat while writing this whole chapter. He compares the love of his life to a gun, which i thought was oddly appropriate for a mob story, so enjoy.
August 11
Orange Tabby
Manhattan, NY
12:11am
Jourdain and Lorenzo finally arrived at the Orange Tabby, and the club was packed. It looked like there was a party going on.
A party she hadn’t been invited to.
Immediately, her eyes began to sift among the crowd of people in search of one mop of onyx curls and stunning green eyes.
“Relax, Eagle Eye, he’s probably not out here,” Lorenzo said, observing her amusedly.
She smiled and nudged him with her elbow. “I’m glad you think this is so funny. If he’s not out here busy being a gracious host, then he damn sure had no reason to stand me up and ignore my calls.”
Lorenzo rolled his eyes. “I will personally kill him myself if you promise to stop talking about it.”
“Where’s the fun in that? That kill is mine. Besides, I’m sure you’ve done enough dirty work,” Jourdain said, giving him a pointed look.
Lorenzo chuckled, making a show of wiping sweat off his brow and pulling at his collar. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never harmed a soul.”
“Sure. Anyway, what’s going on tonight?” She asked, changing the subject.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but there is an extraordinary amount of…Italian men and women here tonight. More so than usual for this area of town,” she continued, “is there some sort of mob convention going on?”
Lorenzo let out a loud guffaw. People standing near them stared at him in surprise before shaking their heads and walking away. “That’s a good one, I’ll have to remember that. But, I guess you could call it that. Most of these people are Gianni’s…clients. We just got some new products in,” he said. Immediately his face closed down, as if he had said something he didn’t mean to.
“Oh? And what might those products be?”
Lorenzo threw up his hands. “I’m already going to be in trouble for bringing you here. I ain’t saying shit else.”
Jourdain rolled her eyes. “I’m going to go find him.”
Lorenzo grabbed her arm as she tried to walk away. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He doesn’t know I brought you here and he really hates it when people show up unannounced.”
Jourdain smiled briefly, pulling her hand from his grasp and saying, “Don’t worry. I’ll let him know it wasn’t your choice to bring me here.” She walked away before he could respond and was immediately swallowed by the crowd.
****
Jourdain attempted to maneuver graciously through the crowd of sweaty bodies, but eventually traded in her polite “excuse me” for a blunt elbow nudge. By the time she had made it halfway into the club, she was thirsty, having swallowed a disproportionate amount of perfumed air. She walked up to the bar, hoping to get a ginger ale before searching for Matteo. As she waited to be served, she started messing with her watch aimlessly.
“Can I get you something?” the bartender asked.
“Yeah, can I get a--” Jourdain looked up and immediately stopped talking.
YOU ARE READING
Sinful Infatuation
General Fiction**Contains mature content** There's a reason why the wicked have more fun... She's a lawyer to be. He's a high-profile mob boss. For all intents and purposes, they really shouldn't have even crossed paths. But when Jourdain and Matteo meet, a wicke...
