Page 11 of Twisted Throne
A sharp rapping at the door froze me in place.
Panic began to well up inside me. I dashed over to the radio and I switched it off. Trying to move quietly, I inched my way toward the door. The rapping came again.
One.
Two.
Three.
I winced when the worn-out springs of the loveseat squeaked loudly as I stretched across the back to look out the blurry peephole.
Looking out, I saw the muscle-man from the LaRosa mansion—Paul—standing there outside the door. He wasn’t looking at the door but was turned slightly and staring at one of the many holes in the drywall, somehow managing to look annoyed and disgusted at the same time.
“Just a minute! Hang on!” I shouted. Racing to my bedroom, I hurried and changed out of the oversized T-shirt I had on. I tried to finger comb my tangled hair but that was a lost cause. The knocking came again.
“Hold on, I’ll be right there!” I yelled.
Why was I not surprised that he was impatient?
By the time I’d managed to unblock the door and worked my way down through the locks, I was slightly out of breath when I was able to finally get the door open.
He stood there, fist raised to knock again, his silk suit standing out in stark contrast against the dingy, peeling wallpaper behind him. My breath caught in my throat; I’d forgotten how attractive he was. I didn’t realize I was staring until he spoke up.
“Do you have many unwanted visitors?” he asked, pushing me aside and walking in before I could say a word.
I flushed with embarrassment as he took in my apartment. The sofa askew where I’d shoved it away from the door, the cheap radio on the counter, the barred window. But who was he to judge me? I took a deep breath and stood up straighter.
“Well, I only see one at the moment,” I quipped, then immediately regretted it at the look on his face.
“Obstacles don’t typically stand in my way for long. And you didn’t have anything else planned for the evening. Unless you’re counting impromptu concerts.”
Oh god, he’d heard me. I flushed from the hairline down.
“You, uh, heard me singing?” I asked.
“I did. Not bad,” he said, the compliment not matching the still slightly annoyed expression on his face.
“Thanks. Um, how did you know where I live?”
I realized what an idiotic question that was as soon as the words left my mouth. He’s in the freaking mafia, of course, they could easily find out where someone lives. My stupidity was confirmed when he barked out a laugh.
“I know many things, and the location of your… home is the least of them,” he said dryly. The quirk of his eyebrows and the curl of his lip as he looked around the apartment was enough to tell me just what he thought of my home. Despite the fact that I pretty much shared his opinion, I felt an immediate, contrary urge to defend my apartment.
“Well, why are you here then?” I asked as I tried to compose myself.
“Angelo wanted to extend an invitation to you for a family dinner tonight at his restaurant,La Villetta. He grew concerned when you couldn’t be reached by phone.”
I’d heard of that place before. The food was supposed to be amazing, but it was super fancy. I’d heard that you had to make reservations months in advance and even then unless you had some connections you may still not be able to get in. Only the very wealthy and powerful ever got to set foot in the place. I had no idea that it belonged to the LaRosas.
“Oh! My phone broke, I haven’t fixed it yet.” Couldn’t afford to fix it, to be exact. But that wasn’t the world that Paul lived in, and he wouldn’t understand. “When is the dinner again?” I asked. I was trying frantically to think if I had anything to wear that would pass muster in a place like that. I didn’t even have something that would come close.
“Tonight. Cocktails are at six, with dinner at seven,” he answered. He glanced up and down at me then said, “You may want to change first.”
Damn him.The cocky bastard knows I don’t have anything to wear toLa Villetta. I barely have something decent enough to wear to Olive Garden.
“Listen, I don’t care who you are but—”
“Carlos!” he called out, and I heard footsteps behind me.