Deal with the Devil (4 page)

But I only have eyes for Mara. She’s still sitting sedately in that folding chair, as chaos erupts around her. Her shoulders are held back and her expression reveals nothing but polite interest. She either has the self-possession of a saint or she’s completely shell-shocked.

Somehow, figuring this girl out has become the most important thing I have going.

Before anyone can stop me, I push off of the wall and grab her arm. Surprise blooms in her eyes, the first emotion I’ve seen in the silken depths, and I pull her from the room.

All I know is that I have to get her out of there.

T
he estate will be bequeathed
in its entirety….

…Sole beneficiary.

I feel as frozen as if I’ve been dumped into an icy river. The only sign of life left in my body is the frantic fluttering of my heart. The emotional part of me, that I so often refuse to acknowledge, howls in fear and anger. It screamed — 
What was Papa thinking? Was he insane, leaving all that money to me?”

The logical part of me is already considering options for investments and annuities. Or how the hell I’m going to keep my mother from getting her hands on this money and using it to drown herself in a literal mountain of cocaine?

I notice the commotion on the periphery of my awareness. Cecile shrieks and throws a folding chair against the wall. I watch it come within an inch of hitting me, but it’s as if I’m seeing it from far away. I’m too deep inside of myself to muster a reaction.

And then 
his
 face fills my vision. The man that talked to me outside of the church. The man who is so gorgeous that I couldn’t think of anything to say to him that wasn’t rude or sarcastic. Because that’s what happens when I get nervous.

I don’t know even know his name, but it’s like his face has imprinted itself on my brain.

Black eyes blaze — in anger or something else, I can’t tell. The heat of his regard is like a burning fire. He must think I have mental issues, sitting here and staring at him as the world is torn down around me.

He moves away. It feels as if all the light has gone out in a cold room, but then I realize that his large hand is wrapped around my wrist. He’s pulling me through the room and out into the chapel.

I stop at the last row of pews and try to pull away but his grip on my wrist is like a steel vise.

“Wait—"

He turns on me with a devastating smile. “You want to go back in there?”

“No…I just…” My gaze scans over his tall form in a close-fitting black suit that encases muscled thighs. The neat hang of his jacket isn’t enough to conceal the outline of his gun. “Who are you?”

One jet black eyebrow goes up in a sardonic move. “You don’t know?”

“Obviously not.”

He glances back toward the anteroom, obviously expecting someone to come flying out after us. He’s probably imagining my mother with gigantic dollar signs popping out of her face where her eyes are supposed to be. “Let’s talk outside.”

I cross my arms over my chest, feeling suddenly obstinate. For once today, something is going to go the way I want it to. “Tell me your name first.”

Darkness curls behind his eyes. I fight the urge to back away and get the feeling that this is not a man used to being told no.

“Leo.”

The name tickles at the edges of my memory. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

The sound of a loud crash and female shriek can be heard from the office behind us. We probably don’t have much time before the cavalry arrives.

Dark eyes twinkle at me as Leo winks and then turns on his heel. He is shoving open the doors of the church before I realize that he’s leaving, with or without me.

I hesitate, one hand gripping the back of the wooden pew like it’s my only anchor to reality. I have a choice. Deal with the shrieking harpy behind me who’s convinced that I deliberately stole her inheritance. Or go with the mysterious and obviously dangerous man with unknown intentions.

It isn’t much of a choice.

I hurry down the aisle in my uncomfortable heels. I hit the door with enough speed that I almost plow directly into Leo’s back.

Leo turns so quickly that he must have incredible reflexes. His arm catches me around the waist and presses me against the hard wall of his chest.

Embarrassed, I try to pull away. But his arm stays locked around me as we descend the steps of the church toward the line of cars parked in front of the valet stand.

“Let me go,” I insist.

“No.”

I look up at him in shock. He doesn’t say it like he’s expecting a fight, just a simple pronouncement about what is and isn’t going to happen. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be thrown over the shoulder of a caveman and carried off into the night.

Incredibly sexy.

Except this isn’t 400 BC. And we’re standing outside of the Church of St. Francis in broad daylight.

“Where are we going?” I’ve stopped trying to pull away because the iron grip has only tightened until it’s almost painful.

He glances down at me, eyes brimming with dark amusement. “Anyone ever tell you that you ask too many questions?”

“No, actually. People usually say the opposite.”

That I’m too disengaged, too cutoff, too lost in my own head to really feel anything. The only boyfriend that I’ve ever had broke up with me after he told me that he loved me and I politely thanked him.

The look Leo casts me is quietly assessing. I want to know what conclusions he’s drawing, but don’t have the courage to ask.

He stops at the valet stand. A pimple-faced kid wearing an ill-fitting red jacket stands by the curb

“Who’s is this?” Leo asks, making a beeline toward a black sports car parked next to the kid and dragging me along behind him.

The kid just stares up at him with his mouth gaping.

“The car?” Leo snaps.

“Uh…this belongs to Mr. Russo,” the valet stutters.

Leo grabs the keys right out of the guy’s hand. “Tell him to meet me down at Sonny’s later to get it back.”

“Y-yes…Mr. Baglio. Whatever you say, sir.”

“I don’t think people can just do that,” I say. Leo propels me toward the passenger side of the car and opens the door.

“I can,” he replies tersely.

I slide into the seat, the silk of my dress like a whisper against the smooth leather. I watch Leo walk around the front the of the car and strongly consider bolting back into the church. 
What the hell am I doing?

But indecision costs me the opportunity to change my mind. Leo opens the driver’s side door and climbs into the seat. His body seems even larger in this closed space. I instinctively shrink back against the side.

He hasn’t done or said anything even remotely threatening, even if he is high-handed. But I can’t shake the overwhelming sense that I am in the presence of a very dangerous man.

“Go ahead,” Leo says, giving me a side glance as he navigates the car away from the curb and slips into traffic.

I look at him warily, but his attention is focused on the road. “Go ahead, what?”

“Scream, cry, freak out. Whatever it is chicks do when they’re upset.”

“I’m not going to 
freak out. 
But thanks for the offer, I guess.”

“Damn, you’ve got a smart mouth,” he says. There's a smile in his voice even though his face remains expressionless. “Your grandfather died and you just found out that he left you everything. Now your bitch of a mother is back there tearing up a church. None of that is worth a reaction?”

“Of course, I’m reacting,” I say, angrily. Who does this guy think he is, telling me how I should be acting about my own shit? “I just don’t see what good it would do to scream and cry, or 
freak out
 about it. And don’t call my mother a bitch.”

Now he 
is
 smiling. “You got another word for it?”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, just that it’s rude. You don’t talk shit about people’s mothers.”

“True.” He makes a turn, his hand moving surely over the shifter as he changes gears. “Though I got to say, I’m a little surprised. Most girls would be in hysterics.”

“I’m not most girls.”

His gaze moves away from the road to glide over me, lingering on my chest before moving down over the slit in my dress. When I stand up the dress is pretty modest, but now it exposes way more of my thigh than I’m comfortable with.

“No, you’re not.”

I look out the window to hide the blush that I know is overtaking my features. Is he flirting with me? There’s no way. I’m not the girl that gets hit on. I’m the quiet, mature one who makes sure her friends don’t go home with anyone too skeevy. I'm the girl who spends more time surfing the internet than worrying about makeup and clothes. No one picks me out of a crowd.

But I can feel the heat radiating off of him in waves. And I’m very aware of the fact that we’re alone in this car together.

“You worked for my grandfather?” I ask, hoping a benign question will break the sudden sexual tension.

His smirk makes it clear he’s aware I’m trying to find a safer subject. “Since I was practically a kid.”

“What do you do?”

I immediately regret the question. I’m too used to moving among the rarified circles at Cornell where asking “what do you do for a living?” is the safest thing you can ask someone.

Because the answer is never 
oh a little extortion, money laundering, and loan sharking on the weekends.

But Leo takes the loaded question in stride and shrugs. “A little bit of this and that.”

I recognize the convenience store on the corner as one I used to frequent as a kid. We’re back in my old neighborhood. “Where are we going?”

“Just driving.” He glances over at me. My legs are neatly folded and my hands rest calmly in my lap. “Though it doesn’t seem like you need it.”

“It’s nice of you to try to rescue me,” I say. “But, no. I didn’t really need it.”

“It’s all good. I’m no hero, anyway.”

I’m sure that truer words have never been spoken.

“Where’re you staying?” he asks.

“At my grandfather’s house, I guess. I just left Ithaca this morning so I didn’t set up a hotel or anything.” My phone vibrates in my hand and I glance down. My mother is calling me. I hit the button to send it to voicemail and stick the phone in my purse. I’m sure I’ll get my fill of dealing with her soon enough, no reason not to put it off for a little while. “Although, I guess it’s my house now.”

He glances at me. “You’re taking this remarkably well.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I could get all crazy and hysterical like my mother would do, and then what? I’ll still have to deal with all this shit when I finally pull myself together.”

“I agree with you. Most people wouldn’t look at all logical like that, especially a woman.”

“That’s incredibly sexist, you know.”

“Just the truth, sweetheart.”

The glance he shoots me fairly smolders and my stomach clenches in an involuntary reaction. The guys at Cornell don’t talk this way, they’re usually so polite that it borders on obsequious. Always asking if you’re okay and rushing to agree with everything you say. Leo seems more like the kind of a guy to bend over and take you how he likes it.

Really fucking hot, in other words. And exactly what a feminist like me isn’t supposed to want.

But then why am I sitting here with wet panties just at the thought of it?

“What’s your plan?” he asks, seeming completely unaware of my internal struggle.

I clear my throat, glad for the distraction. “My mother will probably challenge the will. I’ll have to stick around town until the probate hearing at least. In the meantime, I need to speak with the account manager at the bank about setting up an investment portfolio. I can probably invest most of the money and live off of the interest without digging into the capital at all. Save it until I need it for something.”

Leo raises his eyebrows, clearly impressed. “Very smart.”

The compliment means more than it should. I feel the creep of heat climb up my cheeks that means I’m blushing. “Thanks.”

The car slides smoothly through the gates in front of my grandfather’s house. They shouldn’t be open, but I assume there’s been a lot of people in and out of here in the last few days.

Leo pulls into the driveway and stops the car without turning off the engine. “Here we are.”

It’s a kind of a dumb thing to say. I wonder if he’s trying to stretch our little interaction out a little bit longer. Because let’s be honest, we’re probably never going to see each other again. He’s going to go back to breaking people’s legs, or whatever it is he did for my grandfather and I’m going back to school. With Papa dead, I have very little reason to ever come back here.

“Thank you,” I say sincerely. “I really appreciate you helping me out.”

He smiles in a way that’s more like a baring of teeth. “Maybe I just like the idea of you owing me one.”

“Well, I do,” I say, trying to laugh off what I’m pretty sure is a blatant come-on. “Anyway, see you around.”

“Wait a minute.” He reaches into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a blank white business card with a number written on it in black. “Call me if anything else comes up.”

I catch the card between my fingers, the paper glossy and smooth against my skin.

“Why are you so eager to help me out?” I ask as I get out of the car.

He watches me for a minute through the open window and I don’t think he’s going to answer. But then he puts the car in gear and speaks just before peeling away.

“I have my reasons.”

* * *

T
he house is fucking trashed
.

I step over a sleeping woman in a short skirt who’s sprawled across the entryway. Food containers, bits of clothing and other debris litter the floor and most of the surfaces in the foyer. In the living room, the painting that hangs over the mantle has a gigantic tear through it. A pile of syringes and empty baggies is spread over the coffee table.