Trapped in his End Game (Series)

I wipe my palms over my dress as the elevator rises to the 22nd floor way too quickly. I step outside, and immediately to my left is the same bouncer from before. There are men standing outside, but neither of them is Vince and my heart slams against my chest, but I walk there anyway. I have a job to do.

One of them is the forty-ish man I recognize from before, Paulie. His head lifts up as he sees me approach. A shorter man, dressed in a suit, makes a startled movement.RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

“Whoa!” the other guy ejaculates as his eyes feast on me. “Who the fuck is this?” He doesn’t say it rudely. “‘Scuse my language,” he adds.

“New dealer,” Paulie explains, giving me a warm smile.

“Hi, I’m Adriana.” I extend my hand to shake, but he takes it to his lips.

“Adriana, this is Nicky. He’s in our crew.”

Our crew?

Nicky kind of gives me the creeps. He keeps my hand in his grasp for a little too long, and I don’t like the way he leers at me. It’s with a little bit more than admiration, it’s like he’s wondering if he’ll be able to fuck me at some point. I’m just not used to this kind of attention, but I smile and laugh like it’s no big deal.

The door opens for me and I step inside, not before hearing him whisper to Paulie, “She’s gorgeous.” My chest flushes with heat as I walk into an incredibly large suite with hardwood floors. All of its white, modern furniture is pushed aside to make room for the poker tables. The dealers are setting them up already. I try to look for Vince surreptitiously, but he’s nowhere to be found. Dismayed, I try to grab one of the unfolded tables to set it up myself, but a guard I haven’t noticed till now takes it from me.

“Let me do that.”

He’s a young guy, probably close to my age. He sets up the table for me before I have a chance to argue.

Hell, just let him. You can’t bend over in this dress, anyway.

When he finishes setting it up, I drag a chair and sit behind the table, watching the door as people start to filter in. The people joining the games are even more mismatched than last time. There’s no party this time. It’s clear that this is just business.

When people start filling up around my table, I find out that we’re playing poker. Awesome. I love poker so much more than Blackjack, because there’s so much more skill involved. It’s not just about what kind of hand you’re dealt. You have to be able to control your emotions and let the players see only what you want to see.

The young guy keeps a careful watch over my table as we begin the game. I can’t believe how much cash some of these guys are playing. Thousands and thousands of dollars in chips are casually flipped to the center of the table. A middle-aged man with sand-colored hair has a small mountain of chips. He wears sunglasses that cover half his face and doesn’t say much.

The night wears on with people filtering in and out of the hotel suite.

“So where are you from?”

One of Vincent’s men peers down at me like he doesn’t get why I’m here.

Honestly, neither do I.

“Um-I grew up in Brooklyn. I live in the dorms where I go to college.”

“You have a boyfriend?”

My face burns. Seriously? I look at the table and they’re all curiously still, as if wondering the same question. “Uh-no.”

The small talk continues between the men and me. Every one of them slides over a tip to me when they finish. One of them swears when he loses ten grand, but other than that it’s pretty civil. I have to keep reminding myself where I am and who hired me to be here. It just doesn’t seem real.

The door swings open and cries of “Cesare!” make me snap my head to the left. Vincent stands there in a dark suit, he kisses the man who greets him on both cheeks, and they slap each other’s backs before he turns around. I avert my eyes and realize that someone’s waiting for me to trade them cards. I take them and deal two cards.

There’s a brief lull in the game and I look up again to search for Vince. He’s making the rounds on all the tables, checking if everything’s going okay, and finally he turns towards mine and his approach pauses as his eyes fall over me. I reach up and undo my hair, letting it fall down my back in waves. Their eyes flicker towards me, but I act like I haven’t noticed anything. He crosses his arms over his chest and smirks, like he can see through what I’m doing.

“Hey!”

A voice snaps at me, and I realize I’ve neglected the game.

“Sorry, sorry!” I rush back into it, dealing and shuffling the cards.

“We know Vince is pretty to look at, but try to focus on the game, eh?”

The whole table roars with laughter as I try to ignore how red my face must be.

Vince slides around me so that I can’t see him, but a sudden weight pushes my chair down and I can feel him grasping the head of my chair.

“She’s prettier than I am, that’s for sure.”

The guys all nod in affirmation as a nervous, high laugh leaves my throat. Vince’s compliment embarrasses the hell out of me, but at the same time it’s uncommonly kind. But they’re all pretty decent men. So far, I haven’t experienced any nasty comments, or unwanted grabs, or any of the uncouth behavior you’d expect. His weight leaves and he stands against the wall. Dark eyes watch every move that I make. It’s not like last time, when he was trying to catch a mistake. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

When the players leave, I remain seated as my heart ramps up again. I’m trying to steel myself to tell him-to tell him-

He’s towering over me. Vince sits down next to me, close enough for our knees to touch. He takes the box of my chips and smiles.

“Looks like you did quite well for yourself. I’m glad to see you followed my advice.”

The tone indicates he’s glad I took his advice for more than just the money. I feel his eyes all over me, but it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. He’s not leering at me. He’s just a man appreciating my beauty. There’s no lust in his gaze.

Vince takes his cut and I’m trying to make a sound through my mouth.

Go on, tell him! Say you’re done.

“You’re not going to tell your friends about this arrangement, are you?” His tone is suddenly sharp and a switch flips. All of a sudden, his posture over me is menacing, his dark eyes flashing.

I’m taken aback. “No! No, of course not. I know who you are, that would be-”

The darkness recedes so quickly, I wonder if I imagined it. His smile cuts me off, almost as if he never meant anything by it. He looks almost harmless. The charm, the lightness in his voice-it almost makes me forget how dangerous he is.

“Of course, you wouldn’t. You’re a good girl. Aren’t you, Adriana?”

There it is again. That faint note of condescension that makes me bristle. Or maybe he just thinks I’m a cute little thing. Not to be taken seriously.

It boils my blood.

“Yo, Vince! We goin’ out still?” A man calls from across the room.

He takes my hand in his as he stands up. For the first time, I feel how rough his hands are. The calluses scrape against my skin. I use the gentle pressure in his palm to stand up.

“Some of the guys and I are going out. Come with us.”

“I don’t know.” It’s late and the whole point of today was to quit working for him. It’s in shambles, and I feel guilty about it.

The gentle squeeze of his hand reassures me. “Come.”

How can I refuse?

* * *

The city is waking up.

Times Square is flooded with people, who make the traffic horrendous. Vincent doesn’t seem to mind. He’s used to it, probably. He guns the engine when it’s green, weaving around pedestrians effortlessly while I try to pluck up the nerve to quit.

Stop fooling yourself. You’re not quitting. Not with another three thousand in your purse.

He’s perfectly polite and cordial in the car, and it puts me at ease. Maybe this whole mafia thing is overblown. Maybe they’re not that bad.

“Where are we going?”

“West Village.”

I know I’m probably not supposed to ask questions, but I’m intensely curious about this man. “Is that where you live?”

He grins. “You want to know where I live, eh?”

My face burns and I’m upset at how easily he gets to me. “No, it’s not-I just-goddamn it,” I groan when his lips pull into a brilliant smile, laughing at me to let me know he’s fucking with me.

“I’m in the Upper West Side,” he says when the laughter dies down.

Do you have a girlfriend?

Just the idea of asking him something so personal makes me wince.

I keep thinking of things to ask him, but I’m so painfully shy, so worried that I’ll offend him that I keep my mouth shut. I’m not normally like this, but everything about him, down to his disarming smile to his charm, makes me nervous. There’s also the fact that he’s a fucking capo. Maria and I watched a couple episodes of Sopranos to find out exactly what that meant. It means that he’s a man of considerable power. He has a group of soldiers that he commands.

All my information is from TV shows and movies, really. It does little to comfort me. All it does is make the myth surrounding him even more powerful, and maybe that mystery gives him more power, too. People like me have no idea what his world is like, but I have an idea that I’m going to find out. I can’t help it. I’m fascinated.

The West Village is far away from the madness in Midtown, filled with cute little shops and upscale restaurants and bars. He parks the car and we get out. Right away, I spot Nicky and Paulie walking side by side. Their heads perk up as they spot us.

“Hey Vince!”

“Hey.”

I fall behind as Vincent and Paulie walk together, talking. Nicky walks with me, looking a little too happy to see me.

“Did you have a nice time tonight?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Did anyone give you a hard time?”

“Nah, everyone was nice.”

“Let me know if anyone gives you shit. I’ll take care of them for you.”

He smiles like he’s just joking, and I give him a shaky laugh. I have no idea whether he’s serious, and the harsh glare cast on his face from the streetlights makes a chill travel up my back. We approach a restaurant after walking a few blocks. There are too many restaurants in New York for me to recognize this one, but the interior is very dimly lit. Rows of simple, clean wooden tables with white chairs. The walls are a cool, steel blue, barely lit up by dark orange wall lights. It’s a wonderful restaurant for a date.

Vince strolls up to the hostess and gives his name. She leads us right away down the narrow restaurant into a private room surrounded by walls of wine. The pale wooden tables are pushed together, white chairs surrounding the rectangle. We take our seats, Nicky pulling out mine, and Vince sits down at the head of the table, just a couple chairs from mine. He quickly orders several bottles of wine and the waitress pours glasses for everyone. The door to our private room opens and more of Vincent’s men filter in, taking their places quietly.

I don’t really drink wine, but I take the glass and swirl it around. I inhale its scent, and marvel at the rich, floral tones.

Once everyone’s seated. Vincent’s voice cuts through the idle chitchat and the room immediately falls silent.

“I want to thank you guys for making everything in Jersey run smoothly. Job well done,” he says simply, raising his glass. “Salute.”

Flummoxed, I raise my glass with the others and bump it against their glasses. I have no idea what he’s referring to. I feel like needles are prickling over my skin and I take a large gulp to settle my nerves. The normal, lazy chitchat descends over the table and I listen hard as Vince talks to Paulie in a low voice.

“We’re going to have some guys from the Jersey outfit join us in the next couple of weeks. I know it’s not going to be easy, but the boss wants things to settle down.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Paulie make a face under his wine glass. “Fucking stupid cocksuckers. Who gave them the go-ahead to pinch those suits?”

Vince lets out a rough exhale. “Jack won’t tell me. He says we need to put it behind us.”

The older man shakes his head, a very ugly look on his face. “There are no fucking standards anymore. Everything’s about money. In my day-”

He utters a warning sound as he notices me watching them and Paulie falls silent. Their eyes go right through me like a spear and I look away, my heart beating hard. What did it all mean?

The appetizers arrive quickly, Vince having ordered already, and I turn my attention to the four ravioli sitting in a pristine white bowl. Creamy, yellow sauce covers the pasta and fresh bright green chives add color to the dish. We share the dishes and I take a bite of the ravioli. I’ve never had anything like it. There’s cauliflower and cheese inside the pasta. The sauce is made out of some sort of squash. It tastes incredible.

A lustful smirk spreads over Vincent’s face whenever the waitress, a stunning blonde, reenters the room. They smile at each other like it’s not the first time they’ve seen each other, and finally Vincent grabs her hand. She laughs as she stumbles towards him, falling over his lap. His hand wraps around her waist, squeezing her hips as she giggles and tries to remove his hands.

A hot, sick wave of jealousy makes me drop my fork onto my plate, my appetite evaporating. I’ve never been too great at hiding my emotions and I know my face is probably the color of a fire engine. Nicky looks at me, smiling, and his face falls.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” he says in his loud voice.

“Nothing.” I want to look away, but unfortunately Nicky’s seated on my left and I don’t want to seem like I’m ignoring him.

“You look upset.”

His tone makes other eyes flick towards us and makes my head even hotter. I want to wrap my hands around his throat. I know he won’t drop it until I make some sort of excuse.

“I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

Behind Nicky, their lips touch briefly and another flush of angry heat makes me ball my hands into fists. Is that his girlfriend? I’ve never been this jealous in my life. I hate it. It’s stupid. I don’t want to be that girl. He has every right to kiss whoever he wants.

I just wish it were me.

Why do you wish it were you?

Nicky turns his head and watches Vince and the girl, then he turns back to me with a sympathetic smile, like he knows. His look says: You poor girl.

Great.

I just hope he has enough tact not to tell Vincent, but he honestly seems like the type who would do it anyway. My eyes wander down the table, avoiding Vince completely for the rest of the meal. Drink after drink slips down my throat and sadness tightens my chest. I can’t taste anything. I can’t see anything but my own despair. I always get like this when I drink too much, because every day I spend my energy blocking everything that upsets me. The alcohol loosens me up, makes me angry when I hear intrusive thoughts slipping through the crack under the door in my head normally kept firmly shut.

First it starts with my jealousy, and how I never get what I really want. I’d trade it all away; give everything up if it meant I would be happy. Life has been a black hole ever since Dad died, because they got away with it. They got away with murdering Dad. Nobody is safe in this world and there’s no justice. If only I listened to Dad and stayed in the bedroom, he wouldn’t have died. I’m sure of it.

Everyone thanks Vincent as they head out to leave. My head pounding with wine, I approach Vincent and murmur thanks. I’ll take the subway home. I don’t think I can stand another half-hour in his presence. Looking at him feels like yet another failure.

He grabs my wrist before I can walk two steps, very much like how he grabbed the waitress. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home.”

“I’m driving you,” he says it like it’s obvious.

“I can take the subway. I’m fine.” I’m a little shocked at how hostile my tone is.

Holy shit, Adriana. Do not mouth off to him.

I’m just glad there are only a few people left in the room.

“You’re drunk. I’m not letting you walk around alone at this time of night.”

Who the fuck does he think he is? I look at the other guys for help, but they’re all wearing amused looks on their faces, like my behavior towards their boss is funny. The monster inside me wants to tell them to fuck off and leave me alone, but instead I stalk off towards the entrance and decide to wait for him there.

“What’s her fuckin’ problem?” I hear him say to Nicky as I leave.

Oh, fucking great. Great job, Adriana. He buys a fantastic meal for you, and this is how you repay him?

I’ll never drink again.

When Vince finally meets me in the lobby, his expression is unreadable. He doesn’t look angry, and I take that as a good sign. We walk back to the car together, Vince occasionally giving me curious looks. I wonder what the fuck Nicky said and I shake my head in embarrassment.

“I’m surprised you showed up at the game today.”

The comment startles me so much I stop in the street. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I figured once you found out who I was, you wouldn’t want to come back.”

He raises his arm and unlocks his car. I stare at the blinking headlights.

This is my chance. I could quit now, if I want, but I don’t feel the slightest inclination to quit anymore.

“Doesn’t make sense,” he says as he leans against his car, his arms crossed.

“What doesn’t make sense?”

“You.”

His voice echoes in the nearly deserted parking garage. I rub my arm feverishly.

“Girls who go to a school like that don’t get mixed into something like this, they don’t get drunk at dinners with their boss, and they definitely don’t mouth off to a guy like me.”

Without even realizing it, I’m standing in front of him, seething, but one look at him makes me realize that I better swallow down my rage. How dare he judge me? I want to set him straight, but it’s none of his business anyway.

“Thank you for dinner. I’m really sorry about everything. It won’t happen again,” I say while staring at his chin.

His finger sweeps up my neck, making me gasp as he lifts my chin so that I’m looking into his eyes. “Everyone’s got something to hide. What are you hiding, Adriana?”