Page 798 of One More Kiss

Dante’s Choice

A Dark Mafia Romance

Zoe Blake

Avery

Chicago, IL, present day.

They snatchedme off the sidewalk in broad daylight.

I wasn’t expecting it.

That sounded stupid, I know.

I mean, who would expect to get kidnapped?

Still, I should have known something like this would happen. There were signs. Plenty of red flags. I knew better than to work for people like them. They had no soul. I couldn't work for people who had no soul and expect to come out on the other side unscathed. I was innocent. I had nothing to do with the entire mess. I didn’t deserve this, but then again, maybe I did.

There were those who were genuinely innocent, and then there were those who were willfully so.

It wasn't the same thing.

Being innocent because I was painfully naïve with no real-world experience would be one thing.

Being innocent because I stubbornly refused to accept what was right in front of my nose was another.

The day started boring enough.

My boss, Mr. Russo, was in Naples visiting his family. Like any normal employee, I took advantage by coming in a little later, leaving a little earlier, and taking a longer lunch. In my defense, there wasn’t a whole lot of work to be done when Mr. Russo wasn’t in town. He was extremely secretive about his business dealings, so I didn’t have access to the same kinds of files nor the same responsibilities a usual office manager would have. This was all fine by me. It wasn't like I'd gone to college and dreamed of one day becoming the office manager of Russo & Sons Imports and Exports. This was just a job. A way to pay off my student loans while I worked on my photography portfolio.

My real dream was to become a travel photographer. I wanted to see the world beyond Chicago and the small part of the Ukrainian Village where I currently lived because of the cheap rent. I mean, at least Chicago was a big bustling city, not some backwater, but it wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to photograph the food, buildings, and people of Europe. I wanted to capture the history of humankind in their faces and gestures, in their architecture and on their plates. I wanted to feed off all that energy. I wanted to live through my lens.

Secretly, I mostly wanted to experience Rome. I desperately yearned to have a grand romance in the ancient city just like in the movies. Perhaps one day I’d have the chance to capture the lights of the Trevi Fountain in the glint of my lover's eyes.

* * *

I openedmy eyes before the alarm went off.

My heart raced as I clawed at the clinging sheets. I couldn’t breathe. My chest was tight as I opened my mouth, only to suck in warm air. After a moment, my sleep-fogged brain finally focused. Rolling onto my side, I reached for the water glass on my nightstand. Last night it had been filled with ice cubes and cool water. Condensation had beaded on the outside surface, soaking the thin cork coaster. As I tipped the glass back, the water was warm and stagnant. In the heat of my bedroom, even the coaster was bone dry, no hint of the cool water it had soaked up only a few hours earlier.

I flopped back onto the bed.

The heat was unbearable.

It was mid-August, and the current heatwave was melting the city. The rickety air conditioning units precariously perched on windowsills in ancient apartment buildings like my three-story brick walk-up could not keep pace with the unrelenting high temperatures.

Peeling the sweat-soaked Viva Las Vegas T-shirt I had worn to bed last night off my overheated body, I made a mental note to sleep naked tonight. As I passed the air conditioning unit on my way to the bathroom, I slammed the top with my fist and leaned down. I was rewarded with a dusty blast of lukewarm air pouring in through the vents. Dammit. I turned the cracked plastic knob to "off" and headed into the bathroom to take a shower.

Cool water rushed over me, and I opened my mouth to allow it to trickle down my throat. I dreaded having to head into work with every fiber of my being. Russo & Sons was located just off Peoria Street down by the old Union Stockyards. As in, the former meatpacking district of the hog butcher capital of the world. The blood of millions of slaughtered animals was soaked into the ground, forever staining the land and anything built on it. Not that I was a vegetarian or anything. I loved a big juicy burger as much as the next carnivore, but it was hard not to believe that such an intensely dark place where there had been so much misery wouldn’t somehow hold on to that negative energy.

I rummaged through the top drawer of my bureau, pulling out a pair of pantyhose. Pushing my right hand up the first leg, I checked for tears or runs. I then checked the second leg. As I sat on the bed, preparing to put them on, I had a change of heart. Mr. Russo was out of town and his sons, Joey and Carlo, rarely came into the office unless it was to pose at being hard workers in front of their father. I would mostly be alone, just answering phones and signing for packages.

I bit my lip. Mr. Russo was very old school, with traditional ideas of what a woman should wear to work. Pantyhose, a skirt, no slacks, modest closed-toe heels, no red lipstick or nail polish, hair in a neat bun.

But Mr. Russo was in Italy.

Tossing the pantyhose back in the drawer, I pulled a cute sundress from the closet. It was navy blue, with cherry clusters and tiny pearl buttons down the front. I tossed the dress over my head, adjusting the shoulders and being careful to fasten the last few buttons so my bra didn’t show. I tugged on a lower bureau drawer but wrinkled my nose in distaste at my selection of panties, already enjoying the breezy commando feel. Did I dare? Why not? It would be way cooler, and it wasn't like anyone would know.

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