Page 23 of Bought By the Mafia

“I just find it funny that you went from a dead log to a clingy and possessive creature when she came along.”

“Your supermodel girlfriend seemed to think you’re still available. I had to warn her you’re off the market the best way I could. We agreed not to see other people, right?”

“She’s not a supermodel. She’s a lawyer who’s represented fortune five hundred companies, and she was never my girlfriend.”

“Is that why she was practically leaning into you whenever she spoke?”

“You sound bothered.”

“That’s because all the women here are wondering why their favorite catch is with someone new. I have to let them know you’re off the market or they’ll start hounding you.”

“You’re doing this for me,” I said in a mocking tone. “That’s sweet.”

“I’m doing it for myself. I don’t want to be humiliated. And end whatever relationship you and Irina have. You can’t fuck outside the marriage if I can’t.”

“Damn. You’re jealous.” She couldn’t hide the blush much as she tried to cover her face with her hair. “Don’t worry, she’s not that special and what we had was over before we got married.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

I wondered if she was truly jealous or if she was merely putting me off her scent. It’s not as if she wasn’t receiving attention at all. Far from it. Ever since we came in, every man in the room has been taking every opportunity they can to steal a glance at her or ogle from a distance. It was why I was making sure she did not leave my side. She was making me possessive, something I’ve never felt for anyone, ever.

I was about to reassure Simona further about Irina when I felt her stiffen. She looked like she had seen a ghost. I followed her gaze, which was fixed on a young man, possibly in his twenties, who seemed unremarkable if it weren’t for a familiarity in his features. I had a sense I had seen him before, but I wasn’t sure.

“One of your friends?” I asked her.

She cleared her throat and straightened her posture. When she turned to face me, the fear was gone, replaced with a poor imitation of nonchalance. “Former friend.”

“Just a friend?”

“An ex. Of sorts.”

“A night of coincidences, it seems.”

I watched as this ex of sorts made his way into the ballroom with a woman on his arm. He seemed well known to some people in the crowd, including the birthday girl. Simona turned her entire body to face me and away from him, as if she was hiding. That piqued my interest. “Do you still want to stay here? I’m feeling a little sick,” she said. Now that made me more curious. “Why? We only just got here,” I said. “Fine. I’ll go.” She wriggled out of my embrace, taking a few steps towards the exit. “Oh, come on,” I said, drawing her back. “You met my ex. It’s only fair I meet yours.” Her eyes widened.

Was this her partner in crime? I wondered. That could be it. Maybe they had a falling out. There’s no honor among thieves, after all. Simona tried again to wriggle out of my arm, but I wouldn’t let her. Even if she wanted to leave, the couple had already spotted us and were making their way towards us. “Isn’t it funny how we’re always bumping into your friends whenever we go out?”

“Funny for you, maybe. Not me.”

“Is he another victim of yours? Is that why you don’t want us to meet? Afraid we’ll compare notes.” She glared at me. “No.”

“So it is your partner in crime. I knew it.”

She looked like she wanted to say something, but she was cut off by a joyful greeting.

“I knew it was you!” The man said, “It has been a long time, hasn’t it?”

Simona, who was apprehensive before, put on a big plastic smile and said, “Oh my god, Terry, how long has it been? I’ve missed you!” She gave him and the woman he was with both a light hug. That was the fakest greeting I had ever seen. She seemed happier to see her artist friend more than she did this Terry guy, whoever he was. What was with her and her friends? She seemed like she didn’t like any of them. Well, the ones I had met so far, at least. Terry, on the other hand hadn’t caught the fakeness on display. He extended his hand to me and introduced himself. “Terrence Bradley. Nice to meet you, Giovanni Morelli. My friends call me Terry.” He chuckled. Mister two first names was shorter than I was, significantly so, and shook my hand with a tight grip that felt practiced. Like he learned it at some alpha male seminar in some lesson on how to exert dominance or some crap like that.

“You know me?” It’s not like I was unknown, but he didn’t seem like the usual wall street guys nor did he look like he was in the criminal world.

“Of course I do. Who doesn’t around here?” He chuckled, showing his artificially white teeth. I disliked him in that instant. There was a sliminess to him that raised my hairs. Add to that, Simona had frozen in my hold. She felt so stiff. I unconsciously rubbed her back to soothe her.

“So you and Morelli huh?” He said to Simona. She shrugged in what I’m sure everyone perceived as nonchalant, but I could feel the tension within her it was anything but. “I knew you’d land on your feet eventually,” he added. Simona cracked a smile and said nothing more. Terrance, or Terry, got the hint that she didn’t want to talk, so he said, “It’s been nice meeting you again. And you too Mr. Morelli.” He took out a card from his pocket and handed it to me. It was black, with the words ‘Terrance Bradley, CEO of Bradley Fund,’ embossed in gold. So a wall street guy, then. “You and I should talk sometime.” He slapped my shoulder and moved on together with his friend. As he was walking away, I realized he had never introduced us to the woman he was with.

“Care to explain your stiffness,” I said after they were out of earshot.

She rolled her eyes. “Do you care? If I told you the truth, you’d either not believe me, or you’d think worse of me, so why bother?”

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