He secured the house and got in the back of the car. The woman waiting looked young, with dyed blonde hair and big fake tits. She smiled and reached for him.
“No touching,” he warned. “Let’s go, Killian. I’m starving.”
He ran both hands through his hair and leaned back in his soft leather seats. These gold-digging bitches grated on his nerves. Killian was right. This fast life was going to catch up with him soon. Maybe he’d start jerking off and stay away from loose women for a while.
They pulled up in front of the restaurant, one of the most exclusive downtown locations. Boss liked the best of everything.
“Want me to hang around?”
Boss always liked to be one step ahead. Tonight would be interesting. “Yeah. Don’t go too far. Keep your phone at the ready.”
He walked up the main staircase with his date for the night. They passed the line outside and headed right to the hostess. Boss didn’t do reservations, and he’d never had an issue.
Within seconds of being spotted by the staff, they escorted him to the exclusive part of the restaurant. He sat down across from the girl. Boss didn’t know her name, and he didn’t give a shit.
“Your driver said you’re a business owner,” said the girl.
He nodded as he flagged down the waitress for a glass of wine. One thing he wasn’t interested in was a conversation with his date. He should have skipped dinner and went straight to fucking.
As he zoned out, staring at the candle lights flickering on the tables, something caught his eye. A flash of bright red. He focused for a second and immediately sat up straight in his seat. It was Graciella Moreno. At the same restaurant as him?
She did a quick sideways glance in his direction
as a man pulled out the chair for her. Her sly smile was proof she’d seen him first.
“Are you okay?” asked his date.
He wanted to tell her to fuck right off, his attention riveted on the beauty a few tables over. Instead, he pushed the breadbasket in her direction and told her to eat up. It was a while later when Graciella stood up, excusing herself from the two-person table.
Boss had been monitoring them the entire night. He kept track of everything. Who the fuck was her date? Was he a mark or was this personal? He kept imagining choking the life out him, then emptying a clip into him for good measure.
Widow Maker walked in his direction. Her red dress looked like velvet, trailing all the way to her ankles, the side slit reaching just below her left hip. Her lips matched the dress, her long black hair pinned to one side with a diamond clip. Boss swallowed hard.
“Imagine finding you here,” said Graciella, leaning over the table, a clutch purse in her hand. He had no doubt it carried a gun. The dress barely contained her tits as she faced him.
“Imagine,” he echoed.
Graciella glanced at his date, then back to him. “Nice. Fiancée?”
“No,” he said. “Just a friend.”
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Graciella asked.
Did she realize he didn’t know her name? “I wouldn’t want to take time away from your date.”
She nodded. “You’re right. I better get back to him before he worries.”
“Nice meeting you,” she said to the girl. Graciella stood up straight. “You should be careful about being so predictable, Boss. It could be your downfall.” She winked and sauntered off like a fucking queen. He watched the sway of her hips, the confidence and grace in the way she carried herself. She was a true professional, and any mark would be helpless under her wiles. No doubt she’d be pissed with him tomorrow.
“Who was that?”
“Nobody.”
How was he supposed to eat now? His appetite had vanished the moment he noticed her in the restaurant. He went through the motions, ordered, and picked at the food. All the while, keeping tabs on Graciella. She kept laughing at the man’s jokes, touching his arm, and making sure to look over at him once in a while with those evil eyes.
Never in his life had he felt jealousy for a woman—until tonight.
****