Indebted to the Mafia King
Comare

Eleni

My stomach drops to my toes. Dante prowls away from the door toward me. I've really messed up now.

"Do you always break the rules laid out for you?" he asks.

I swallow. There's a growl in his voice, but it doesn't sound angry. It tingles down my spine and warms something in my gut. I'm suddenly very aware that I'm in a nightgown again, and while this one is soft, it is nearly as thick as my old one. "Not until recently," I manage.

Something lights in his eyes. "You know, there are punishments for disobeying me in my house."

He is a boss. I should be dropping everything in my hands and sprinting away. My heart pounds in that same place in my gut.

I take a step closer to him with my chin high. "What kind of punishment can I expect then?"

His eyes flame. He's only a few inches away now, so close that I could reach out and grab him if I wanted to. I could pull him in. But the air between us feels thick, impassable. "What's in your hand?" he asks.

I jar back into myself. What am I thinking? I don't know him, I can't trust him. By just stepping into the room, he made me completely forget what I was holding in the first place. I glance down and replace the picture of him with Christos. Right. Baba believes-believed Luca killed Christos, and so do I. But with this picture in my hand, with the way he always seems to cloud my mind, it's difficult to deny that Dante could've done it just as easily. Wordlessly, I hand the photo to him. He takes it and steps back. "Christos. I should've known you'd beeline for this."

"How did you " I can't quite make the words come out. Dante seems to understand anyway.

"We overlapped at Wagner." He starts walking back over to the wall of photos, seemingly to pin the one I removed back up. "Actually played football together for a couple years there."

Wagner. The college Mama and Baba sent Christos to for four whole years. Even though he only lived on Staten Island, we barely saw him more than weekends. Baba said Christos needed a business degree to take over The Greek Corner one day, and Wagner was the closest place where Christos got in. Dimly, I remembered screaming in packed stands at a few of his football games. Had I heard the name Cattaneo? I didn't know anymore. "Oh," I say as he pins it back in place. "W-why did you stop?"

He smiles. "The family business needed me."

I nod. He knew Christos years before he disappeared. There's no way. But the question bubbles to my lips and

"Do you know what happened to him?" I blurt.

Dante stares at the floor. "I didn't even know he had a little sister back then. He was just Freshman Chris, this genius running back I was waiting to see pop up in the NFL someday."

I hear the no without him having to say it. But something about the way he avoids the word drives me across the floor toward him. He didn't say never, or absolutely not. He didn't say anything. "Could you replace out?" I ask. "We haven't heard anything in two years."

He takes a step back. "I don't know. You're asking me to overturn old dirt, make a mess all over again."

I'm not stupid. I've overheard Baba talking to Frank enough times. Dante is bargaining. He won't do this for free, wants to know what I'm willing to offer. I swallow, and that heat in my gut kicks up again. I've seen the way he looks at me. I might just be a waitress with a quarter of a nighttime computer science degree, but I know I have something he wants.

"I'll do anything," I say, trying to drop my voice lower like he did before. "I can clean, or be bait, or be your...comare." The Italian word rolls awkwardly off my Greek tongue.

He stops stepping back. "Why would you think I want a mistress?"

"Uh." I blink, startled. Have I read this wrong? "I was just thinking that you bought me at the auction, so "

"The auction." He takes a step closer to me. "What about that made you think I was in need of a mistress instead of just a good time?"

The words good time shiver down my spine. "It wasn't the auction. I actually met your girlfriend downstairs, and-"

He raises an eyebrow. He's back within grabbing distance. I feel so lost in this conversation that I don't even consider it this time. Well, not really.

"Yeah, um❞—I cast through my scrambled memory for her name "Gianna?"

Like she did when I suggested them together, Dante laughs. "Gianna is my cousin. I just asked her to stay here for a few days, for you and your mom's sake."

Cousin. Her laughter. He'd be so lucky to date someone like her. That was what she meant.

"So, you just went to the auction for a good time," I mumble, only half aware I'm speaking aloud.

Dante circles behind me, like a shark waiting for a boat to tip, and I shiver. Somehow, losing the ability to look into his night-dark eyes feels more dangerous than showing him my unprotected back. Am I about to experience one of the punishments he was talking about? "Why do you keep bringing up the auction?" he asks.

"I...didn't..." But of course, I did. I keep thinking about the favor he said I owed him instead of my body, how high my tab must be now. I simply don't want to be in his debt.

Dante hums as he circles back around to where I can see him, and my heart skips a beat as I realize he has loosened his black tie to reveal a small triangle of skin at his throat. The room feels small and close. Is there enough space to breathe without touching him? Was there ever?

"You keep saying I bought you," he murmurs. "I can't help wondering why you're thinking about it."

"I owe you," I manage.

The smile that pulls his lips is all hunger. "You're trembling. Your pupils are dilated, and that long nightgown of yours hides a lot, but it doesn't hide how fast you're breathing."

My breath races in my ears, harsh and wanting. But what do I want?

Dante leans in. "Does the feeling of being owned turn your blood molten?"

I don't nod. I think.

His breath whispers over the shell of my ear, so hot it lights that place in my gut aflame. Whatever he says next, I'll agree with. He's a boss. I'm in more danger than I've ever experienced in my life. Baba was murdered yesterday, and Mama's asleep in the other room. But I am melting under waves of Dante's heat.

"Then go to sleep," he says.

Before I can think twice, he leans back and saunters toward what seems to be a closet on the other side of the room.

"What?" I say.

"You heard me," he replies. "If you want me to be in charge, go the fuck to bed. It's the middle of the night, and I doubt you've slept well these last couple days."

I haven't, but I'm still burning up. The only word in my mind is want. I want nothing more than to climb into his bed, to pay off what I owe him, to let him own me for the night.

He slides his tie out of his collar without looking at me. The message is clear. He's going to bed alone.

I unlock the door and stumble out of his room on strangely wobbly legs. Mama needs me. But that thing in my gut that only wanted to stay back in Dante's room with him still burns through me, leaving me confused and disappointed.