Drawn To Darkness (Kings Of Mafia)

When Tyrone opens his front door, I ask, “Want to come dress shopping with me?”

He lets out a sigh, then mutters, “Let me grab my coat.”

I grin at him, and when he’s done locking the door behind him, I hook my arm through his. “I need a fancy dress for a ballet show. I’m going as Dario’s date.”

Tyrone’s eyes widen on me as we take the stairs down to the exit.

“Does that mean he knows you work for him?”

I nod. “Last night, shit went down at the ballet company. One of the ballerinas accused me of stealing her wedding ring.”

Instantly angry, Tyrone snaps, “The bitch.”

“Yeah. She slapped me just as Dario came into the office.” I shake my head. “He was so angry I thought for sure I was done for.”

“Why was he angry at you?!” he exclaims.

“No, not at me. He was angry at Mrs. Stafford and Vivian – she’s the one who slapped me.”

When we step out onto the sidewalk, we both notice Junior at the same time where he’s standing across the road.

“What are you doing here?” Tyrone shouts.

“Just keeping the street clean,” Junior replies.

“So weird,” I mutter as we head in the direction of the bus stop.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “It feels like they’re gearing up for shit to go down.”

Tyrone wraps his arm around my shoulder, and we walk a little faster.

“So, what happened after Dario walked in on the bitch slapping you?”

I continue telling Tyrone how Dario stood up for me and assured me he doesn’t care about the differences between us.

“Sounds like he’s madly in love with you,” he chuckles. “Look at my girl landing herself a big fish.”

“Dario’s not a big fish,” I mutter. A grin spreads over my face. “I swear he’s perfect. Sometimes, I wish he’d do something wrong so I won’t feel so imperfect next to him.”

“You’re good people, Eden. The man is lucky to have you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, giving me a loving smile.

We don’t have to wait long at the bus stop, and soon, we’re heading in the direction of the thrift store.

“Feels like we’re going dress shopping for your prom,” Tyrone mutters.

I let out a chuckle. “Remember the ugly purple one I wore? I looked like candyfloss.”

“You looked pretty,” he argues.

“I always look pretty to you.”

“That’s because you’re my girl.”

I lean my head on his shoulder, feeling so happy nothing can ruin my mood.

When the bus stops, we step off and walk the short distance to our destination.

Entering the thrift store, I say, “Hi, Lisa. I’m looking for your prettiest but cheapest dress.”

“Fuck that,” Tyrone argues. “I’m paying. Show her your best dresses.”

“No, Tyrone,” I whisper.

He pats my back before nudging me toward Lisa. “Let me do this for my daughter.”

My heart squeezes, and I have to blink like crazy as love for the man fills my chest.

Lisa digs through all the dresses, and we find quite a few pretty ones.

“You might want to take a seat,” I laugh at Tyrone before I disappear behind the curtain of the dressing room.

“Get me a chair,” I hear him tell Lisa.

I put on a black, tight-fitting one, but I already don’t like the way the fabric falls stiff over my hips. I try to smooth it out with my hands as I pull the curtain back.

Tyrone takes a moment to look, then mutters, “Too little fabric. It’s winter.”

“I’ll wear a coat,” I argue as I pull the curtain shut again.

Dress after dress is a no from Tyrone, and I’m busy working up a sweat.

The last one is a Morticia-Adams-type mermaid gown with beads down the front. At first glance, I didn’t think I’d like it, but the moment I have it on, I stare at myself in the mirror with my lips parted.

Slowly, a smile spreads over my face, and it only gets bigger when I pull the curtain back.

Again, Tyrone takes his time to look at the dress, then his eyes lock on my face, and he nods. “That’s the one.”

“Right? It makes me look like a queen.”

“Definitely. Get changed so we can pay. I want a hot dog from the stand on the corner.”

“Only if the hot dog is my treat.”

Tyrone mutters something under his breath while I close the curtain and quickly change back into my jeans and sweater. I shrug on my coat, and with the dress hanging over my arm, I walk to the counter.

A couple of minutes later, we leave the store, and as we stop to get two hot dogs, one of Frankie’s men drives slowly past us.

An uneasy feeling skitters down my spine.

Tyrone’s right. It feels as if there’s a storm brewing in the air.

After Tyrone’s eaten half his hot dog, he says, “You know what would be nice?”

“What?”

“That cheesecake you got me a couple of weeks ago.”

“It was from the Starbucks near work. Want me to get you one tomorrow?”

“Yeah. You’d make your old man happy.”

We enjoy our food while we wait for a bus. When it comes, we have to stand because all the seats are taken.

During the ride, I glance down at the bag in my hand, hoping Dario will like the dress.

I just need to touch up my black heels with a marker, and I’ll be good to go. I’m going to style my hair in soft curls. The smoky look around my eyes with red lipstick will be a good fit with the dress.

Excitement bubbles in my chest, and I can’t wait for tomorrow.

Dario

When Eden opens her front door, my lips part as I’m struck in the heart by how beautiful she looks.

Christ, I’m lucky.

I stand rooted to the spot, taking in every inch of her. The dress fits her like a glove, accentuating her curves.

Finally I manage to murmur, “You look breathtaking, Tesoro.”

The happiest smile I’ve ever seen brightens up her face. “Yeah?”

I nod as I take a step forward, and wrapping my arm around her waist, I tug her against my body.

“I’m at a loss for words,” I admit before I press a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, being careful not to smudge her lipstick.

The eyeshadow she’s wearing makes the gray in her eyes look more prominent.

“Have I mentioned you have beautiful eyes?” I ask.

She shakes her head as she rubs her palms up and down my biceps.

“They’re stunning, Tesoro.”

“Thanks.” She pulls back and looks at the tuxedo I’m wearing. “You look way too handsome, Mr. La Rosa.”

“Thank you.” I nod toward the stairs. “Let’s go.”

Taking Eden’s hand, I link our fingers, and when we leave the building, I notice one of Frankie’s men.

When he gives us a chin lift, Eden mutters, “Don’t mind him. He claims he’s keeping the street clean. I think something’s about to go down. That’s why they’re all over the neighborhood.”

“Yeah?” I murmur as I glance around us.

She squeezes my hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

I let out a burst of laughter, and finding her fucking adorable, I wrap her in a tight hug before I open the R8’s passenger door.

When the engine roars to life, Frankie’s man grins with approval. To make the man’s day, I floor the gas, and we shoot down the street.

Eden’s laughter fills the car, her nails digging into my thigh.

I slow down until I’m no longer breaking the speed limit and place my hand on top of hers.

This feels right.

The only thing that would make things perfect is if Eden moved in with me.

“Are you excited for tonight?” she asks.

“Yes. Besides everyone working hard to make tonight possible, I can’t wait to introduce you to all of my friends.”

AKA the other heads of the Cosa Nostra.

She smooths her free hand over her dress. “I’m glad I look my best. I hope they like me.”

“They’ll love you.”

Eden might not know it yet, but as my girlfriend, she’s one of the most protected women in New York.

I bring the R8 to a stop in front of the ballet company, where a red carpet has been rolled up.

The two men who’ve been hired as valets open our doors, and when we climb out of the vehicle, cameras start flashing.

Eden dips her head low as she hurries to my side. I wrap my arm around her lower back and hold her close as we walk from reporter to reporter.

“Is it true the show is sold out?” one asks as flashes blind us.

“Yes,” I answer, a professional smile on my face.

“Who’s the woman by your side,” another reporter shouts over the crowd.

Pride fills my chest as I say, “My girlfriend, Eden Taylor.”

When a reporter calls out, “Is the ballet company a front for money laundering?” I usher Eden into the building before the fucker can give away that I’m Cosa Nostra.

“Wow. That wasn’t intense at all,” she murmurs by my side while a nervous expression tightens her features.

“Luckily, it doesn’t happen often,” I say as I lead her to the waiting area outside the auditorium.

Seeing Renzo, Skylar, Angelo, and Vittoria, I walk toward them.

It takes a moment to introduce Eden to my friends and their better halves, then I say, “Thanks for coming.”

Angelo nods. “Damiano said he might be a couple of minutes late.”

“Evening, everyone,” Franco says behind us.

I turn around and shake his hand, then quickly introduce him and Samantha to Eden, who’s glued to my side, her eyes darting between my friends.

Meeting them all at once can be a bit intimidating.

A server offers us a flute of champagne, which Samantha and Vittoria decline because they’re both pregnant.

“I love your dress,” Skylar tells Eden.

“Thank you,” my woman answers, a smile tugging at her red lips. “You all look beautiful too.”

“If I didn’t force Skylar to change, she would’ve come in her chef’s uniform,” Renzo mutters.

“Oh, right. We were at your restaurant a while back,” Eden mentions. “The food was great.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Seeing how my friends are trying to make Eden feel comfortable makes me love them so much more.

People part like the sea, then I see the reason why. Damiano walks toward us with a thunderous expression darkening his face.

When he reaches us, I mutter, “Can you please smile? You’re scaring my guests.”

He scowls at me, then says, “We’re meeting at my place after the show. There’s shit we have to discuss.”

I widen my eyes at him before nodding at Eden. “Work can wait. This is my girlfriend, Eden Taylor.”

Damiano just nods in her direction, not sparing her a glance.

Angelo throws his arm around Damiano’s shoulder and steers him toward the area where a bar has been set up.

Leaning down, I murmur near Eden’s ear, “Don’t mind him. He’s always like a bear with a sore tooth.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah,” Samantha agrees. “He’s all growl but no bite.”

Unless you piss him off.

For the next thirty minutes, I greet some of the important guests with Eden on my arm, and by the time we head into the auditorium to take our seats, she lets out a breath of relief.

“Did I do okay?” she asks as I gesture for her to sit.

“Yes. You were perfect,” I compliment her, and unbuttoning my jacket, I take the seat beside her.

On my other side, Renzo fakes a yawn. “Wake me up when the show’s over.”

I elbow him in the side. “Fall asleep, and I’ll punch you.”

The lights dim, and a spotlight focuses on the stage.

As the show starts, I take hold of Eden’s hand and places it on my thigh. Brushing my thumb over her soft skin, I watch as the past year’s hard work pays off.