Page 19 of The Red Queen

They’d done this dance and it always ended with Desi screaming more insults at the dour housekeeper while Giovanni watched, his expression unamused.

“You will apologize, or you will be returned to the cellar immediately.”

Desi suspected he would use their outing against her. It’s what she would have done.

She shrugged and glanced at the housekeeper. “Pardon, Mrs. Capelli,” she said shortly.

The housekeeper nodded and extended her hand to Desi. She was holding a black satin evening clutch.

Desi took it and glanced inside. Unable to help herself, she laughed. “You are a strange man,” she said, pulling a tube of lipstick, the only item, from the purse.

She spotted a mirror, walked to it and opened the tube. She murmured her appreciation as she applied the blood red stain to her lips.

When she turned to face Giovanni, her heart sped up. His eyes were glowing with the appreciation she’d wanted from him in the cellar. All it took was a pretty dress and a tube of lipstick, and she was the old Desi again. Ready to face the world and slaughter her enemies. Tonight was going to be a good night.

“Let’s go.” Giovanni waited until she was by his side before exiting through the front door. Together they climbed the steps down to the waiting car, a black SUV with tinted windows.

As Giovanni opened the door for her and she caught sight of their reflection in the glass, it struck her that they made an elegant couple. Giovanni in his Italian suit, silk tie and leather shoes, her in her tiny dress, high heels, and leather jacket.

They looked beautiful, rich, powerful.

She shook the thought away as he placed his hand against the small of her back and helped her into the car.

He walked around to the other side and climbed in, instructing their driver to take them to a place called Banditos.

“What is Banditos?” she asked, scanning the long driveway as the car made its way off the property. Eight men this time.

“My club.”

She looked at him.

“I have three,” he admitted. “This is my Venice club.”

“You run finances through it?” she asked, knowing exactly how the mob used legitimate businesses to clean the books. She hadn’t had to do it for the Garza cartel since they paid government officials to look away from their criminal activities, but she knew many organizations did.

Giovanni nodded in answer to her question.

“Do you go to this club often?”

She couldn’t picture the elegant man as a club-goer. He was dark and broody, belonged behind a desk with a tumbler of scotch and a cigar.

“I do some business in the club, meet contacts and such. I like to make the occasional appearance, so the locals do not forget who owns the city.”

It surprised her that he was giving her information on his activities. He had to know that if she escaped, she’d use anything she learned against him. Then again, in his arrogance, he would imagine that she couldn’t escape him. He was wrong, of course, and she would be happy to show him the error of his ways. That very evening in fact, if she had anything to say about it.

Chapter Nine

The club was not what Desi was expecting. It was dark and broody like Giovanni, but it also had all the usual suspects. A bar with a lineup of glittery clients waiting for drinks, a dance floor, a DJ booth, and a crowd of people who looked like a mix of tourists, locals and mobsters.

It was fascinating and exciting. Desi forgot her status as captive and asked Giovanni for a tour.

He raised an eyebrow but accommodated her, showing her through a door behind the bar which led into a kitchen. Several people were running around, cooking, calling orders and rushing out with platters of food.

Giovanni led her through the kitchen and down a hall where they entered an office.

“Yours?” she asked, looking around.

It felt… unused. It didn’t smell like him. No whisky, wine, or cigars. Just a desk and a filing cabinet.

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