Chapter 28: Chapter Twenty-Eight

Frankie had brought her to one of Accardi’s underground casinos. All around them were men and women impeccably dressed, stacking chips worth millions up to their chins as they smiled and drank their cares away.

“So what exactly are we doing here?” Gloria asked, as Frankie led her from behind through the throngs of poker tables toward a wall filled with slot machines.

“I need your help with something,” he whispered in her ear.

“Me?”

“Hmmm,” he agreed, stopping her in front of a door with a keypad lock. “2005.”

Gloria input the numbers into the touch screen and a second screen popped up waiting for a thumb print. She looked over her shoulder at him but he merely winked. Gloria put her own thumb down on the scanner and the reader turned green.

“Never question my greatness,” he whispered, pushing her into the room.

The room looked like a security office in a porno. There was a rack of clothes on one side, and a cheap metal desk on the other wall with a few wooden chairs and security monitors.

“Yours?” she asked as he walked toward the rack of clothes.

Frankie chortled and glanced around the room in disbelief. “You really think my aesthetic is ‘mall-cop-porno?’” Frankie asked, offended. She shook her head at how he’d read her mind again. “It’s a communal office,” he explained.

“Ah, I see. Then how did my….”

“Your clearance is nearly as high as mine.” He glanced up from the rack of clothes again. “Nearly.”

“I’m honored,” she said, hoping her doubt was easy enough to detect with just two words.

“Don’t get too full of hot air just yet, Vixen,” he said, pulling a black cocktail dress from the stash of clothes. He raised his eyebrows twice. “You’ll have to earn it.”

Gloria’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

He walked toward her, dress extended. “A certain person is here for a meeting. A certain person whose cooperation is important for a plan Accardi has.”

“Explain further,” she pressed, reluctantly taking the dress from his hands.

He rubbed his hands together then splayed them wide. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

He shrugged. “Well, technically I’m not allowed to.”

Gloria sighed and threw the dress on the ground. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, waiting.

He sucked air in between his lips and sanded his hands together again. “Ronny was right, you’re a feisty one. Look,” Frankie stepped forward and snatched the dress from the ground again. “It’s this stupid thing the Accardi family makes people do. A test, initiation, whatever you want to call it. If you want to be in the club…” He leaned forward and whispered, “And since you’ll be with me, you do.” He set back and held the dress up for her. “Then you have to get put through the ringer to see if you’ll survive. You should be honored. A woman hasn’t been asked to do this in a while.”

“I’m tickled pink,” she sighed, taking the dress. “So what do I have to do? Charm the deadliest looking guy in the bar?”

Frankie chuckled. “Nah, that’s what Gen had to do. No, all I need from you is to sit there and look pretty.”

She raised a brow. “The looking pretty part I can do. Sitting still though?”

He chuffed her cheek. “Atta girl. Get dressed,” he ordered, flinging a pair of heels at her to put on with the dress. Frankie turned and started scanning the cameras, giving her the chance to change without his eyes eating up every exposed portion of skin. The dress was skimpy to say the least. Half of her cleavage was tumbling out, a portion of her ass threatened to spill and the only thing holding the dress up was the tightness of the fabric and sheer luck.

“Uhhh…”

Frankie turned and his eyes lit up. They skimmed slowly down her body, leaving a scorching path in their wake. “Oh, hell yeah, that’ll work.” When his eyes flicked back up his pupils had taken over the brown of his irises. “You’ve been trained, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“Nevermind, nevermind, I have faith in you,” Frankie said, waving his hand. “Ready to see if you have what it takes?” he asked, extending his arm for her to take.

She rolled her eyes. “I know I have what it takes, the question is if you can handle it.”

“Oh ho ho, I love the confidence, Vixen.”

Frankie placed her hand on his arm and led her through the door. The moment his feet passed the threshold, his demeanor shifted. Though his features remained relaxed in his trademark ‘devil-may-care’ expression, his hands flexed into fists, his eyes cut to an edge and his breathing became slow and deliberate. Then he moved and Gloria tried to keep up as he directed her around the room.

After a few seconds she could see their target: a table with four people situated around it. One of the people was a dealer who flicked cards out to each of the gamblers with a distracted carelessness not found in legal clubs. Two of them were burly men who glanced around the room begging for someone to give them a reason to throw punches. The fourth? A woman. A beautiful woman with long blonde hair, a dress that showed the curve of her spine and a face that belonged on the cover of magazines. Her bright blue eyes flicked up at their approach and she sat back, a smile lighting up her face as she took in Frankie Donati. Those bright eyes turned to slits when they saw Gloria on his arm.

“Frankie, Baby, you’re late,” the woman said with a pout of her lips.

Frankie held Gloria’s chair out for her. As Gloria took the offered chair she felt his mouth against her ear. “I’m sorry in advance,” he whispered before pulling away. “Good evening, Bridget, I apologize for my tardiness. I have a… well, a new pet I’ve been breaking in and she’s… she’s a stubborn one. Aren’t you, Baby?” Frankie asked, tilting Gloria’s chin up with his thumb and index finger.

Gloria’s mouth dropped open. Pet? He wanted to claim her as his pet? Oh hell, no. Gloria’s father kept pets. Women who were paid to be at their master’s beck and call. Women who were treated as less than who were expected to drop to their knees the moment their owner snapped their fingers. Modern day sex slaves. The silence around the table echoed the shock in her own mind. Frankie smirked but his eyes pleaded for her to play along. Then he used the fingers around her chin to secure her jaw back into place.

“A pet, Frankie? Really?” Bridget asked, her glare hot on the side of Gloria’s face.

“What can I say? You know I have…” Frankie sighed and brushed the back of his fingers along Gloria’s neck. “Tendencies normal women cannot keep up with. This one though… once I have her trained will be quite worth what I’ve had to pay for her.”

“She looks familiar. What did you have to pay to get one that fresh?” one of the guards asked, his accented voice telling her he was Russian. She wanted to look at him, get a read on his face. But as a pet she wasn’t allowed to make eye contact with anyone but her master. She wasn’t allowed to speak. She was there for one thing…

“You would recognize her, wouldn’t you, Dimitri,” Frankie said, not expounding further. “I’d say she’s worth a hundred lives or so. I can make it one hundred and one if you keep looking at her like that, Bub,” Frankie warned.

“Shut up, Dimitri. The pet has better manners than you. Do not speak out of turn again.” Then the woman’s anger turned to Frankie. "I can’t believe you’d bring a woman along to this kind of meeting,” Bridget hissed.

“You’re here, so I figured…”

“I came in Liam’s stead because…” Bridget closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. When she opened them again her face was serene, confident. “I was hoping we could make a deal.”

“Good, that’s what I want too. A deal from a felon to a Phelan. Poetic, don’t you think?” Frankie asked, sitting back in his chair and rubbing the back of Gloria’s exposed arm.

Bridget sighed, clearly unhappy with the turn of events. But Gloria knew better. She could hear the desperation in her voice and guessed the woman would make every possible maneuver to get what she wanted.

The other man with Bridget spoke next. “The Phelans had nothing to do with the mess that just took place between the Accardis and the Galantes. Our gripes are with the Galantes only.”

“Wow, straight to the point? No foreplay?” Frankie mocked.

“We can talk foreplay if you want,” Bridget teased, taking the opportunity presented to her. Gloria noticed Bridget adjusting herself in her seat and then Frankie jumped.

“Down bitch. You’re not in heat and I have zero desire for a rut with you,” Frankie growled.

Gloria glanced under the table and noticed Bridget’s red toes running up Frankie’s thigh.

“Oh come on. You want a deal, right? There’s a reason Accardi sent you. He knows what we have. He knows what I want. I want to make a deal. One that includes you and me, back at my place like old times. No training required,” Bridget suggested, her smile all predator.

Frankie’s glare turned red hot and Gloria noticed him subtly reach for the knife in his belt. She needed to get control of the situation. Gloria touched his arm and he flinched. She ducked her head.

“Pardon me, Master,” she whispered. “You seem tense. Is there something I can do to relieve you?”

Frankie’s mouth twitched in disbelief. He reached forward and clasped her cheek.

“Jealous, Baby? Upset she touched what’s yours?” he asked. She nodded and he tsked. “Why don’t you be a good girl and finish what you started earlier, hm?” he asked. He dipped his eyes pointedly to where he lifted his hips off his chair.

Gloria suddenly realized why he’d asked if she’d been trained. She had. Every Russian princess was taught the art of manipulation and the tact of a perfect execution. Whether that manipulation was used against a man in lust or a woman in a jealous rage, the recipe was always the same. She nodded and glanced down where her rival’s foot had been a moment ago. Then she dropped out of her chair. Frankie readjusted himself in his seat, trying to hide his curiosity as she tucked herself under the table. She sat back on her heel, earning a shriek from Bridget as her heel dug into the woman’s bare foot.

“Sorry,” Gloria said, her voice muffled under the table as she smiled with pride.

Her hands were on Frankie’s thighs which flexed under her touch. Frankie moved as if he was undoing his belt and his zipper but… he didn’t actually do either of those things. She glanced up from her spot under the table to find him sitting back in his chair looking utterly relaxed and in control. One hand hung lazily on the back of the chair next to him. He let out a long moan as if she’d just taken him into her mouth while his free hand skimmed her lips under the table. The gesture was clear: all he needed her to do was sit under the table and he’d do the rest. He didn’t expect her to actually do anything. That was his mistake.