15

MARGO

The annoying buzzer shook me out of a deep sleep. Blearily, I fished around until I located my phone on the bed next to me. It was barely ten. Who the hell was here this early in the morning?

Bartenders were asleep at this time of the day—everyone knew that. And my friends sure as hell did. So whoever was here could just stay out front, except the buzzer just kept going.

What the actual fuck?

“All right, all right,” I said to myself as I swung my legs out of bed. They felt like lead, and my mouth was dry. That weird thing about working at a bar is that you could feel almost hungover the next day even if you only served drinks, not partake in them.

I threw on my robe and headed out of my bedroom, wondering who in the world it could have been this early. I pressed the button on the panel, my eyes still blurry. “Who is it?”

“Zoey. Can I come up? It’s an emergency.”

Her words chilled me. “Are you okay? Is Piper?”

“As far as I know. Come on, let me in.”

I sighed and pressed the button to open the door downstairs, praying that it actually worked for a change. Apparently, it did, because the buzzing didn’t return, thank god.

I hadn’t known that Zoey was back in New York, let alone that she’d show up here at such an ungodly hour. Still, she was my friend, so I put on a pot of coffee. While I waited, I redid my ponytail, tucking in the loose strands. There wasn’t anything I could do about the dark bags that were no doubt under my eyes, though.

At the knock, I opened the door, frowning slightly. As a singer, she kept the same kind of hours as a bartender, yet she looked alert and refreshed. It was annoying.

“Why didn’t you call first?” I said after I released her from a hug.

“I knew you wouldn’t answer.” She stepped into my place like it was a second home. “The buzzer’s more annoying.”

“You’ve got that right.” I went to check on the coffee as we spoke. “So what’s the big emergency?”

“I had a gig last night,” she began. “And I ran into one of your buddies.”

“I have lots of buddies,” I said stiffly, though I already had an inkling of who she might mean. Or, at least, I’d narrowed it down to three choices. But where would she have run into those guys? “Who was it?”

“Slade Winslow.”

I frowned as I poured coffee into two mugs. It was absurd, but my first reaction was a flash of jealousy. Zoey had a sultry voice and looked to die for. I didn’t like the thought of Slade being anywhere near her when she was in sex-kitten singer mode. “Where was that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said hastily, taking a mug from me. She sat down on the loveseat and I joined her. "But his buddies were there, too. Rock and Jumaine."

Okay, now, that pissed me off further. "I mentioned those guys to you, and you acted like you didn’t know them.”

“I never said that,” Zoey said, but she didn’t meet my eyes.

“You certainly never let on that you did.” The coffee was heating up my mind and my temper.

“That’s because it didn’t matter. I thought they were just customers, and Margo, you never date customers.”

“I’m not dating anyone,” I said, though several recent intimate scenes flashed through my head.

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Zoey said. “Admit it—you’ve fallen for one of them, haven’t you?”

One. That was the word I was stuck on.

“I get it,” Zoey continued. “They’re hot. But they’re bad news. All three of them.”

At the word three, coffee slipped the wrong way down my throat, and I started coughing.

Piper would have sprung into action, slapping me on the back, but Zoey didn’t even seem to notice my sputtering. “Oh god, you’re falling for all three of them.”

I shook my head violently, which didn’t help with my coughing spell. Finally, I managed to say no in the weakest voice possible.

“Honey, they’re bad news.” She shook her head sadly. “I sang at a party hosted by the head of a powerful mafia family last night, and they were there. They work for a Don called Roscano. They’re his lapdogs, sweetheart. They do all his dirty bidding.”

Shockwaves ripped throughout my system as I stared at my friend in utter disbelief. She had to be wrong. I mean, sure, I knew the guys were involved in some kind of less-than-legal activities. Most people around here who weren’t dirt poor were. But the mafia? Henchmen? It didn’t seem possible.

And yet... “What was that name you said? The name of the Don you think they work for?”

“Roscano.”

My heart sank. Rocello had mentioned a man named Roscano. Rock had made it sound like he was a kindly older man who’d taught him about his Italian heritage. What had the first name been? Oh yeah. “One of them mentioned Emilio Roscano.”

Zoey frowned. “This guy’s name is Nicolo. And honey, he’s a very bad, very dangerous man. And that’s who your friends work for.”

I set down my coffee and cradled my head in my hands. This was the answer to all the mystery around those three.

The answer to all the riddles.

The horrifying answer.

All this time, they had been hiding it.

And I had fooled around with two out of the three of them. Hell, I’d have let Jumaine kiss me that night they showed up at Zoey’s house.

I had been falling for them… and I hadn’t even known who or what they were.

Zoey patted my back. “Look, you couldn’t have known.”

“Because you didn’t tell me,” I retorted.

“I did as soon as I heard you’ve been seeing more of them. But… if it makes you feel any better, I think they know they’re bad for you. Or at least the one I spoke to did.”

My head swung around. “You talked to one of them? Who?”

“Slade. He looked so hot in his suit last night. I definitely get the attraction. But he said he’d stay away from you, that they all would.”

Slade. That ass. He’d sat right here on this very sofa, rubbing my shoulders and my scalp. Making me moan. Making me think about things I shouldn’t have. And that was his idea of staying away from me? He’d been the one who’d invited himself up here—or tricked me into doing it.

Damn him.

After Zoey left, I couldn’t get him out of my head. None of them had been truthful with me, but Slade was the one who told my friend that he’d leave me alone, just days after he’d all but invited himself up to my place.

And I’d let him in.

Anger fueled me to make some phone calls.

Thirty minutes later, I was the one showing up unannounced at someone’s apartment. Slade’s hair was a mess, and he was wearing only faded blue jeans when he finally opened the door. Clearly, he’d been asleep just like I had when Zoey appeared.

Well, then, he could just wake the fuck up.

“We need to talk,” I said, and I marched past him into his apartment.