Page 230 of Rosetti Family New York
Rafe grunts but doesn’t stop me.
“Fine,” Emilio says. “But don’t expect to find much. Those Red Hook guys stuff most of their cash up their noses or into their veins.”
“Just look into it,” Rafaele says, low and dangerous.
“Got it.”
Emilio walks away. We watch him leave in silence, and it doesn’t take him long to disappear into the room as if he was never there in the first place.
I turn to Rafe.
“Are you mad?”
“About Ethan?” he asks. “Or about you looking like this?”
His eyes are burning into me, like I’m the only thing he wants to look at. Like maybe this dress was the best idea ever.
“Both?” I say, feeling a heat rise to my cheeks.
He leans in and speaks low, just for me, his breath warming my ear.
“You look too fucking good, Sloane.”
Like it’s an insult.
“This was your idea, you know,” I say. “The dress. The heels. The entire city block of clothes.”
He drops his voice.
“I own that dress, Carter,” he says. “Don’t forget it.”
A shiver runs through me at the way he says it. As a promise. Like he’s ready to take me right here, right now.
The drinks are strong, the kind of cocktails that could knock a girl into another life, the life Rafe seems to think is mine. The bartender gives me a look like he knows it too. Like he’s seen a million of me. I want to shake him. Rafe wants to do worse. He downs his whiskey in a single shot and jerks his head toward the stairs. I follow, breathless.
We go up to a private lounge, with a view of the whole club, and he locks the door behind us, his eyes on me like a wolf on its prey.
“What do you do here?” I ask, looking around.
One wall is entirely glass, overlooking the throng below. Black glass, dim lighting, plush velvet couches, expensive whiskey, weapons probably hidden in the wall.
I can see his whole world from above, but he’s just watching me.
“You want to know what I do here? What I own? You. Right now.”
I kick out a hip, feeling the fabric pull across my body.
“You don’t own me, Rafe.”
“First timers don’t get to come up here,” he says. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
I cross my arms and ask, "Then why’d you bring me here?"
Rafe steps closer, gritting his jaw as he looks down at me.
"Because I don’t want anyone else looking at you," he replies.
I glance out through the one-way glass.
