Page 21 of Born Reckless
Mason reaches it and pulls it open.
It still throws me off. I expect to be blind for a moment as I walk in, for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. But I see everything perfectly from the first moment.
There is one folding table set up in the center of the room. A chair is placed on either side of it. There is a man seated in the corner, a tattoo machine next to him. His hair is curly, his face friendly and open, though shy.
At least I can be sure he isn’t Roman.
As I step inside, a figure leaning against the wall straightens, and there isn’t a doubt in me that this is the man I have been warned about.
His shoulders are broad, his arms sculpted to perfection. He wears black from head to toe, matching his slightly too long hair.
But his eyes.
They’re completely disarming. Vivid blue, such a stark contrast to his dark hair.
He’s beautiful, there’s no doubt about it. But every inch of him screams predator. Violent. Dangerous.
“Welcome to Chicago, Miss Doe,” he says. His voice sounds like steel, if steel could speak. Hard. Sharp. Smooth. “My name is Roman De Luca. Have a seat.”
His words are just barely polite, but goosebumps rise on my skin instantly. I’ve been around plenty of dangerous men in my life, and my natural instincts are telling me to run away. To not look this man in the eye.
But I’ve been dominated by too many people in my life. I hate hiding. I won’t ever cower.
So, I lift my chin high, and I cross the room to sit at that simple table. The man in the corner says nothing. Elena and Mason walk inside and position themselves along the outside wall.
Roman takes the other seat at the table, and for ten seconds, he just stares at me, his gaze intense, his expression unreadable.
I’m biting my tongue because all I want to do is fill the awkward silence with biting sarcasm. But Elena warned me, so for tonight, I’ll be smart and keep my mouth shut.
“I want you to understand that if you mess this up, your life will be in my hands.”
I stare at the man sitting across the table from me and I refuse to blink. He’s intimidating and he knows it. His features look like they were carved out of marble, the man is a walking billboard of savagery.
But I’m not going to bow under the weight of his stare.
“Yes,” I answer. He didn’t ask it as a question. It was absolutely a statement. A fact. Something that sounds inevitable. But I’m the one being interrogated here.
“Do you understand why we value privacy in Chicago?” he asks. He tilts his head just slightly to the right.
Sort of. Kind of. Not really.
“Yes.”
“Do you swear you will never speak about Chicago if you leave this city?” he asks. He leans forward, his eyes so vivid, it’s almost as if they have a life of their own.
“I do,” I vow. No, I don’t understand this place yet, but something creeps inside of my chest. It took up residence there the second I stepped off the plane.
There is something different about this place. Whatever it is, I won’t tell a soul. Partly because people would think I’d lost my mind.
“Do you have any family outside of this city?” Roman asks, firing off the question nearly the second the words leave my lips.
“No,” I respond, and that familiar, sharp knot in my stomach tightens just a little more. “I have no siblings. My mother is dead. I never knew who my father was.”
The man’s eyes flick over to Elena. She stands poised and tense, next to her brother, who watches this entire interaction with barely contained annoyance.
They’re family. Brother. Sister. And from the look on Roman’s face, I’m beginning to wonder if having a full-blooded sibling is rare. They have each other.
But in the end, it’s just me. I don’t have anyone.