Page 8 of Scorned Obsession

Ouch, it’s hurting, stop!

I focused back to the present. “Sure, but I don’t think…” My chin dipped to my T-shirt.

“No problem. Here, put this on.” He handed me a dark apron. “Gian loves pretty waitresses. You know how to pour wine, right? This is expensive stuff.”

I called up a smile. “I’ve served in a pub for years.” Despite being born into privilege, Mom always stressed the importance of hard work.

“Pub, eh? Then you’ll do just fine.” The man seemed to relish me working for him. He was the second person who asked me to help. Well, Renz didn’t count. Either I looked like a pushover or I seemed capable.

Desperate people did desperate things.

And I was about to prove it.

Chapter

Two

Bianca

I collared a bottle of wine in each hand. My flash-in-the-pan employer carried a wooden box of top-shelf whiskey. “There’s an open bar, but make sure to keep their glasses filled,” he said behind me while we made our way up the steps.

Conflicting feelings rattled with each step that brought me closer to the second floor. A part of me wanted Renz to appear and drag me out of here and lecture me for this escapade, while another part of me seethed with righteousness about confronting Sandro. I wanted to sneer in his face. Did he think he was the only one who knew how to stalk? Granted, this was by accident, but I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he saw me pouring him a glass of wine and congratulating him on his engagement.

I ignored the pressure in my chest. The kind of pressure that made you want to scream into an abyss or ugly cry in a dark corner to ease the pain.

There was no time to dwell on conflicting emotions because when we entered the room where the party was being held, my feet sank in quicksand and I became a statue.

Apparently bravado before and after an idea was different when set in motion.

Quite a few people squinted at me.

One of them was Tommy Scavo. He was Griselda’s brother and currently the Rossi underboss. I’d had friendly interactions with him. He was the same age as Sandro but was smooth-shaven and had a lankier build. Whereas Sandro’s hair was wavy, Tommy’s had tighter curls.

It was wishful thinking that he wouldn’t recognize me.

Tommy strode to me directly, a thundercloud on his face.

“Bianca,” he whisper-yelled. He gripped my elbow and crowded me into a corner. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m about to serve wine.”

My faux employer eyed us warily. “You two know each other?”

“Kinda,” I squeaked.

“Yes,” Tommy shot back with a glare so hard, the other man backed off and disappeared. Turning back to me, he said, “I saw Renz. He’s pissed that he didn’t know the order was for this. You guys shouldn’t be here.”

Too late. I was in full-blown stalker mode and determined to get my answers. As long as I’d known Sandro, I wasn’t privy to the inner workings of the Rossi crime family. I only knew he was their top enforcer. It appeared he was more involved than I thought. If I had known this, I would have backed off a long time ago. I always thought he was the outcast and the Rossis took advantage of him. But if this gathering was in his honor, then he hadn’t been honest with me.

“Hey, Tommy,” someone called from across the room. “Stop harassing the wine girl and send her over.”

His grip tightened on my arm, but I yanked at my elbow and freed myself. “I have work to do.”

I strutted across the room. A few of the men eyed me up and down. I spied Sandro’s dark outline out of the corner of my eye, but I refused to look at him.

Yet.

I pasted a smile on my face for the stranger who called me over. “More wine, sir? This is a Barolo vintage 1995 from the Piedmont region.”

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