Page 9 of Born into Blood

I already know the answer to that, so I keep my mouth shut, hoping his math is different from mine.

“Dario said you did good tonight.” His deep, accented voice fills the room as he motions for me to take a seat.

“I’m glad he thinks so.” I sit down and try not to look nervous.

He rubs a hand over his light beard, keeping his gaze on mine until his phone buzzes. We both look at the lit-up screen lying on his desk, and I try to hide my surprise when I see the photo that pops up. It’s a beautiful, dark-haired woman, holding a baby dressed in pink, both of them looking at whoever’s taking the photo and smiling. Dominic’s entire face changes when he sees that photo, and his voice is much softer when he answers.

“Everything okay, principessa?”

He lets out a soft laugh at whatever she says. “I’ll never stop worrying. You should know that by now.”

I sit in silence, trying to pretend I’m not listening, but there’s no way for me to not hear what’s being said less than three feet away from me.

“I’ll be home soon, sweetheart. Tell Isabella that Daddy loves her.”

He lets out another soft laugh, and then says, “I love you too, principessa,” before ending the call.

The silence is awkward as fuck, and I look everywhere but at him. When he finally breaks it, his voice isn’t near as soft as it was when he was speaking to his wife, and he doesn’t mention the phone call at all.

“We need a new girl to work upstairs, and Dario recommended you. He said you worked well with Gabby and didn’t fuck up any of the drinks. He also said you didn’t fidget during the game.”

The odd statement catches me off guard, and I meet his eyes without thinking. They’re still weighing me, but not quite as cold as they were when I walked in. Maybe my scales are evening out.

When he sees my confusion, he adds, “Dario hates it when people can’t sit still. When he’s up there working security, having someone in his periphery who’s constantly moving irritates him and makes him very unpleasant to be around.”

“I’ll remember that,” I tell him, but there’s no need for me to try and remember it. My default has always been to freeze. It’s all part of being invisible.

Dominic leans back in his chair, appraising me one last time before giving me a slight nod. “I think you’ll do well up there. The position is yours if you want it.”

When I open my mouth to accept, he holds up a hand to stop me. “First you need to know the rules.”

Starting with his thumb, he goes through the list. “You are never to interrupt or interfere with the game.” Adding his index finger, he says, “Anything that happens in this club, and especially in that room, is never to be repeated.” With his middle finger extended, he lightly wiggles the three digits while keeping his eyes locked on mine. “Don’t fuck the clientele.”

Dropping his hand, he gives me the barest hint of a smile. “If you can follow those three simple rules, we’ll get along just fine. You’ll keep all your tips, and you’ll still receive a paycheck from me. I also need you to be available if a game is planned last-minute, but that rarely happens.”

When I’m sure he’s finished, I say, “Sounds perfect. I’m in.”

He holds up a finger and says, “One more thing,” making my heart stutter in my chest, terrified he’s going to take back the job offer.

“I went through your file and saw your ID. It’s fake. It’s damn good, but it’s fake. Why is it fake, and do I need to be worried about it?”

I think about lying, but something in his eyes tells me that would be a very bad idea, so I tell him the truth, or at least a partial truth. “I’m only nineteen. I needed a fake ID because most clubs won’t hire you unless you’re twenty-one. It’s my real name, though. I just lied about the age.” I don’t mention that I also lied about the apartment number just as added security because my mom is paranoid about us giving out our address. She rented a P.O. Box when I was a baby, and that’s where all our mail goes. Nothing is ever sent to the apartment.

He watches me before giving a slow nod. “I think you’ve probably figured out by now that you not being twenty-one is the least of my worries, and I really don’t give a shit about it. You’re over eighteen, and that’s all I care about, so the job is yours.” He stands and offers me his hand so we can shake on it. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to be getting home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Alessi,” I quickly say before he can walk off.

“You earned it. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and if you need anything, ask Dario or his brother Alessandro. One of them will always be here when you’re working.”

I nod and thank him again as we leave his office. He heads towards the front of the club while I make a quick exit out the back, too stunned to process everything that’s happened tonight. The eight hundred dollars I earned in tips feels a bit like a dream, and I keep dipping a finger into the hidden pocket in my skirt to feel it, reminding myself that it’s real. I still have a couple of hours to kill before I can go home without making my mom suspicious, so I head to the diner that’s a few blocks away.

Emerging from the dark alley, I ignore the long line of people still waiting to get into La Dolce Vita, and weave my way through the crowded sidewalk. It’s always busy in this part of the city, no matter the time, and it takes me several minutes before I’m pushing open the door to the diner on the corner and breathing in a lungful of greasy hamburgers and fries and freshly baked apple pie. The aromas mix together, making my mouth water and my stomach growl.

Bypassing a few empty booths, I squeeze into the last stool at the counter and start looking through the menu that’s already there and waiting.

“What can I get you, hon?”

I look up and smile at the older woman who’s holding a coffeepot in one hand and a pen in the other. She refills a cup for the man I’m sitting next to and then sets it aside before grabbing her order pad.

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