Chapter 21: Chapter Twenty-One

“Everything go okay?” Gen asked, stepping down from the stool to break the sudden weight of tension from crushing them all.

Frankie’s eyes didn’t deviate from their target. “Great.”

“Frank… I…”

“Have you seen it?” he asked suddenly, his eyes finally piercing the Donna with their accusation and anger.

“Seen what?”

“You know exactly what.”

Gen looked nervously over at Gloria as if she couldn’t stand the level of malice in Frankie’s gaze. The Donna’s eyes were filled with guilt, debate, then certainty. She squared her shoulders and stood up to the man who was meant to be her subordinate. “Look, Matteo and I discussed what we should do and we think it’s in both of your interests to keep certain things in the dark until…”

“Until when, Donna? Please, do give us a timeline on when we can expect the truth.”

Gen’s mouth smoothed into a thin line, clearly trying to hold her tongue. It was obvious she didn’t want to keep the secret from him. It was the Don’s decision but she would honor it. The woman was too easy to read. It was clear she was not from this world, poor thing. She was an open book, even to a stranger such as herself.

Frankie scoffed and shook his head in disgust. “You’re falling in line quite nicely, Gen. Bravo,” Frankie hissed, making Gen’s face pinch with hurt.

“Walk away, Frankie,” a low murderous voice came from behind them.

Everyone but Frankie looked to the bodyguard.

“Mind your own business, old man,” Frankie growled.

“I am.”

Frankie rolled his eyes.

“Oh, hey, Frankie,” Polly said from the bar. “Leo.”

Gloria looked to the blonde who had just unknowingly walked into a Mexican standoff. Polly’s eyes were wide, her fingers worked nervously against each other as she watched the dark man who looked ready to tear the building apart to get what he wanted. Gloria narrowed her eyes in confusion. Was this girl, this woman, who had just months ago been intimate with the man… afraid of him? Frankie barely spared her glance. His eyes passed over her so quickly there wasn’t even time for recognition to kick in before his gaze was locked back on Gloria.

“Let’s go, Vixen,” Frankie said, announcing their level of intimacy by using his nickname for her. He held out his hand, giving Gen a look of warning to not interfere.

Ignoring the nervous glances from Gen and Leo along with the curious one from Polly, Gloria took Frankie’s offered hand and let him jerk her from her perch. She stumbled forward into his arms and he locked one behind her back as if the verbal claim hadn’t been enough. The gesture was clear: she’s mine and none of you have the power to change that. Frankie’s hold on her didn’t loosen until he turned her and pushed her away from the onlookers.

“Nice to meet you, Gl-uh-Lilah!” Gen called.

Gloria didn’t respond, she was too busy trying to stay ahead of the thudding of Frankie’s combat boots and avoid the eyes of everyone in the VIP section who had preferred the entertainment of their confrontation over the fight occurring down below. Frankie reached forward and took her hand, intertwining their fingers in a dominant, vice-like grip before he pulled her back and took the lead.

The line of people waiting at the bottom of the stairs hoping on a prayer to be let up into the elite section parted at the sight of the enraged male stalking toward them. The rope lifted before they reached the bottom, allowing Frankie to tow her onto the lower level without breaking stride. Gloria had to skip to keep up with his determined gate. She glanced around, hoping those on the floor around them were wise enough to keep their attention on the fight rather than Frankie Donati and his helpless drag-along. She looked to the bar and nearly tripped over herself when she noticed Ruby, Teresa, Betsy and Nora huddled together reading something on Ruby’s phone. They all looked up at the same time and Nora’s eyes locked with hers. Then Nora’s eyes flew to the man pulling Gloria along and anger rolled over her expression.

Gloria succeeded in prying her fingers from Frankie’s rough grip. He took two steps and stalled. His shoulders tensed, the fingers that were wrapped possessively around hers a moment ago constricted into a fist. He turned, his face a mask of irritation and disapproval. His black eyes went to her hand then followed her fleeting glance toward the bar. A growl ripped from his throat and he eliminated the space between them. Gloria gasped and stepped backward, but her retreat was stopped when she knocked against someone.

“Hey, watch what the fuck you’re…”

Whoever was speaking was immediately silenced by Frankie’s glare. Then his sharp gaze cut to her.  “Is that what this is about?” he growled, his voice clogged and gruff with his annoyance. He gripped her upper arm and she gasped at his strength. “You’re worried what they’ll think of you being with me?” His scowl turned up at the edges and a dangerous glint brightened his dark eyes. A queasy feeling settled in her stomach as his grip on her tightened impossibly further. “I suppose there’s one way to satisfy their curiosity and put an end to your worries.”

“What are you…”

Frankie hauled her against him and his lips crashed against hers in a violent display of possession. Gloria pressed her palms flat against his chest, trying to shove him away. He growled and instead of releasing her, barred her back with an arm and bent her backward with the force of his kiss. Then his tongue swiped against her lips and forced its way inside.

For the first time, Gloria didn’t taste blood on his tongue. For the first time, she tasted him. Her next move was purely instinctual. She needed… more. Her flattened palms fisted in his shirt. Her submission made him gasp and she took the opportunity to do some exploration of her own. He tasted… familiar. Sweet. Smooth. Tangy. Whiskey. As if the taste alone was enough to intoxicate her, she felt her knees weakening. His hands loosened and instead of holding her to him, his fingers dug into her back as if they sought something to keep him grounded. His teeth sucked her lower lip into his mouth and he bit down as if he loved the pure taste of her nearly as much as she loved his.

“You taste like my whiskey,” he purred against her lips. He groaned as their lips connected again and the sound was enough for her legs to finally give out.

Frankie’s hands caught her thighs and pulled her upward. Her hands found his face while her legs wrapped around his waist. She felt something hard brush against her ass and felt the rest of her body soften in response. She felt as though she were on a cloud, hovering above the earth as he allowed her to take the lead with their kissing. Her inexperience meant nothing. As if her body had become attuned to his through proximity alone, their lips collided and tongues tangled in a dance that had been centuries in the making. Someone brushed against her and she realized she wasn’t floating on a cloud, she was being carried. She could do little to care where to. She couldn’t even remember where they’d been.

She felt something solid against her back and Frankie’s hands loosened around her thighs to drag gently up to her waist. His lips left hers and started working down her throat. She let her head fall back and realized he’d backed her against a wall. Her nerve endings were alight with every touch of his sending sparks of need into her belly. His mouth was greedy, dragging against her skin while his hands worked over her body as if he knew, any moment, she would come to her senses, remember where they were, and push him away… Speaking of which…

Gloria’s eyes flew open. The crowd was abuzz as a new winner was declared in the ring. Everyone was focused on the victor, and not what was going on in the dark corner of the club Frankie had pressed her into. Frankie continued his exploration of her body with his hands and mouth. His right hand palmed her breast and a rush of excitement raced down her stomach and between her legs… which were still clamped around his waist. She shoved him and his lips left her shoulder with a pop. His eyes shot up to hers, hooded and heavy with desire. His lips were swollen, a sheen of saliva lined his mouth. His tongue traced his lips, swiping the evidence of their interaction as it went. Her eyes followed the movement and his mouth turned up at the edges. He leaned into her, his intent clear.

Her hand smacked against his chest. “Stop.”

He did. He cocked one eyebrow up, his confident smirk still in place.

“Let go of me,” she ordered.

His release of her thighs was immediate. She slid down his body and was grateful her knees didn’t buckle as her feet planted on solid ground once again. He was still against her. She could feel every ounce of heat radiating from his body into hers. She felt it seeping into her bones, calling for her to fall into him, claim him, let him do with her what he wanted so long as he kept her safe, in his arms, where she knew evil lived but it would be hers to direct and control if she merely gave herself over to it.

“Step back,” she whispered.

He shuffled his feet back a few inches, just enough to allow her room to breathe. “Now what?” he asked, his voice thick and laced with something she dare not identify. He waited patiently for her next command, as if he expected the next words out of her mouth to be, ‘Take me to the bathroom and fuck me raw.’

Instead, she shook her head filled to the brim with thoughts she should certainly not be entertaining in this setting. “I want to leave.”

Frankie shook his head slowly back and forth, calling her bluff. “That’s not what you want to do next, Vixen,” he whispered. He leaned forward and she held her breath. “But I’ll let you listen to that angel on your shoulder tonight. The devil will get her way soon enough, I’m sure.” He winked and turned his back on her. She inhaled sharply and looked upward, grateful to have the second to herself to try to sort through the maelstrom of emotions flooding her system.