The Revenge

The Revenge

“She’s walking in now. Green dress.”

I stroke my fingers over my lips as I watch the door, waiting for her to arrive. I am putting an end to this rivalry tonight.

“Now,” the voice in my ear informs me, and I drop the phone into my jacket pocket.

Sure enough, a woman stands in the doorway, her white hair curled to perfection, an emerald green dress accentuating her turquoise eyes.

I swallow, wondering if the fates could be so cruel. The fingers dripping in diamonds lift her dress, the fur stole around her shoulders making her look like a film star.

Every guy in here is gazing at her, and the man beside her glares at them all in turn. Her eyes scan the room, a pure innocence in them that I can’t tear my eyes away from.

Then she sees me, and her lips part before the look that mirrors my own takes over her face.

“Stefano?”

Her voice is like that of an angel: soft, feathery, light, and dripping with sweetness. A woman with a voice like that can do no wrong.

“Yes. You must be Katya?”

Her eyes widen when I speak, the thickness of my accent probably making her panties wet. Women love my voice.

“I am. Leave us, Daniel.”

The man beside her sets his mouth in a firm line before nodding reluctantly.

“Please,” I whisper, my hand waving toward the seat beside me.

Katya Dontealio was the daughter of the powerful Vincent Dontealio, the man who recently shot my brother dead. This girl is my revenge, by order of my father.

She sits beside me, her head tilting slightly to the right as she examines me.

“You’re as handsome as the rumors say.”

“You’re more beautiful than any words I’ve heard describe you,” I reply instantly, my voice thickening as she smiles politely.

“Stefano, you requested my company this evening. Against my better judgment, I came without the knowledge of my family.”

She orders a drink, the barman tripping over himself to get it for her. “Because I feel like you have been fucked over.”

When she curses, a part of me aches to touch her, to check if she’s real. A stray curl falls onto her neck, and I’m temporarily distracted.

“Why do you feel that way?”

“I knew your brother, Lorenzo. He was well-known on the streets. I’m truly very sorry for your loss.”

She looks at me, her eyes shining with sincerity.

“I wish I could take back the bullet, but I can’t. But I’m the daughter of the shooter, so I can only guess why you wanted to meet me tonight,” she says quietly, graciously accepting her drink from the bartender.

I nod to the barman, instructing him silently to add it to my tab.

“Lorenzo was my brother. He was walking back from a shift at a restaurant—”

“Stefano, come now,” Katya smiles sadly. “We both know that’s not true.”

I clench my jaw, annoyed that she is trying to deface the memory of my brother, who is barely cold in the ground.

“And he was shot by your father,” I finish.

“He tried to rape me,” Katya says simply, lifting her martini glass to her lips.

I’d heard something of this rumor but wasn’t expecting her to be so honest about it.

“At first, I was flattered, for you Morreli boys are pant-wettingly attractive.”

I sip my beer as she continues.

“But he treated me like a whore, without knowing who I was.”

I turn away, shaking my head. My brother didn’t like not getting his way. Past tense, I remind myself. Lorenzo is dead.

“I’m sorry,” I say, looking into her eyes. “No woman deserves that. But you? You deserve to be worshipped.”

We gaze at one another for a moment, and she crosses her legs, swallowing down her martini.

“Are you going to kill me, Mr. Morreli?”

I’m stunned by how calm she is, and I move my jacket so she can see my gun sitting beside a silencer. Sadness appears in her eyes, but she nods with understanding.

“Our families have been rivals for years. What your brother did just cemented that. Do you think it will end here?” Katya asks, ordering another drink.

“No,” I answer truthfully. “But you know how it runs. An eye for an eye.”

Katya nods glumly, staring into the glass placed in front of her.

“Can I have one last request?”

I arch my brow, willing to give this woman my heart on a plate should she request it.

“Could you spend the night with me? I’ve never”—she takes a deep breath, her shoulders slumping as she does—“never been with a man. I don’t want to die a virgin.”

“Jesus,” I exhale, staring into her eyes. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Need you be so brash?” Katya laughs, sipping her martini.

“My apologies. You’d like me to make love to you?”

“Pretend you love me. Just treat me how you would if you loved me.”

“I’ve never loved a woman, Katya, so I can’t guarantee it would be an accurate representation of romance.”

“It’s better than what I know now,” Katya says, her eyes misting over.

I study her for a brief moment before deciding to go for it. What did I have to lose?

“I have a room upstairs. Meet me there in twenty minutes.”

“Why not now?” Katya frowns as I smile seductively.

“You want romance, right? Twenty minutes. Room 333.”