“So, what’s this all about?”
She stood up and walked to the bar, pouring herself a large glass of the juice just as something to do with her hands.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m exactly what you think I am,” she replied, desperately clinging to her façade even though earlier in the afternoon she’d been berating herself for becoming what she hated.
His voice was soft and gentle, and directly behind her now. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Why do you present to the world a person that isn’t who you really are?”
She took a long sip of the chilled juice, feeling instant relief as the cold soothed her throat and put a bit of energy into her muscles since she’d missed lunch. She debated back and forth, wondering if she could trust Sergei or if she should maintain her secrets. In the end, as she looked into his eyes, she knew she wanted to trust him, wanted to tell him everything. “You know who I am, right?”
“You’re Darcy DiAngelo.”
“And you’ve heard of my father?”
“Of course.”
“Then you have to understand why I do this.”
He thought about it for a long moment, his eyes roving over her pale features in an effort to try and understand. “No. I don’t think I do.”
“He’s a mafia boss,” she said, as if that explained everything.
He waited, but when she didn’t continue, he prompted, “And?”
She laughed bitterly. “And if I were the sweet, pretty little princess he wanted me to be, I’d be married right now. To some horrible guy who enjoys torturing and killing other people.”
The pieces fell into place. “Okay. I can see where you’d try and hide from your father. But you keep coming out and selling your…” he hesitated, “services, for lack of a better word,” he explained. “Your father could find you any time and bring you back.”
She smiled and raised her glass. “As long as I keep popping up in various cities, he knows where to find me,” she said. “If he can keep tabs on me occasionally, he feels like he’s in control. But if I were to disappear completely, he’d find me and bring me home. There’s also the added benefit of appearing to be something any decent Mafia man would never marry. A party girl is for enjoyment. Mafia men, in their silly, warped world, want some sort of Madonna for their wife and thankfully I don’t fit that image. As long as I keep up that image, I’m relatively safe.”
He nodded slowly. “I guess that makes sense.”
“No, it doesn’t. My father has some serious control issues but it’s not hard to figure him out. If he thinks I’ve turned out as horribly as he has, he’s perfectly fine with me doing whatever I want.”
“What do you do when you aren’t popping up in a nightclub and bringing all the paparazzi to a feeding frenzy to get your picture?”
She shrugged and looked out the window. “I keep myself safe.”
“And protect other animals?” he suggested softly.
Darcy’s eyes flew to his face, a shiver running down her spine at how perceptive he was. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, it makes sense that you would protect something smaller than yourself. I’m guessing your father hit you when you were smaller, didn’t he?”
“He didn’t mean to,” she said, forming an excuse for the man who’d sired her. But at his cynical expression she leapt to his defense. “No really, he was always angry and yelling and every once in a while, I would accidentally get too close when he was throwing his arms about. It wasn’t that he was trying to hit me, but nor did he really care after it happened. He thought it was his way of toughening me up when he’d walk away and I had to deal with my bloody nose or black eye.”
Sergei closed his eyes as fresh rage poured through is body. “But as soon as you could, I’m guessing you developed a plan to get out of the situation?”
“It wasn’t so much that I developed the plan. My lifestyle sort of formed around me, I guess.”
“How so?”
She stood up and took several bites of the cracker Adele had brought in. “I was at a night club one night dancing with some friends and the paparazzi took pictures of me, naming me as the naughty mafia princess. Next thing I know, some guy calls me up explaining that he was opening a new night club, asking me if I could show up. He said he’d pay me five thousand dollars if I would just dance for an hour at his club and let the paparazzi take pictures.”
“And a career was born.”
“Exactly,” she smiled. “The naughtier I behaved, the higher my price would go. It was silly really, but you can’t believe all those celebrities are struggling with drugs and rehab, do you?”
“Some of them, yes.”
She flushed. “Well, yes. Definitely some of them are having problems and they’re working hard to fix them. But most just need a reason to get into the tabloids for publicity.”
“The next thing you’re going to tell me is that they’re all as innocent as you are.”
She blushed under his teasing tone but shook her head. “No, I think I’m the only prude in our set, but definitely don’t believe everything you hear. People prefer the gossip to reality.”
He shrugged. “Normally, reality is pretty close to perception. You’re the one person I’ve met who has completely stumped me.”
“And you’re the first person I’ve met who has been able to see through my disguise.”
“The martini was the last piece that threw me over the puzzle.”
Her eyes widened as she figured out what he’d done. “You’re a real rat! You made me the martini’s tonight knowing that I wouldn’t drink them.”
He stood up and chuckled, pulling her into his arms. “I suspected that was the case, but until I saw you choking on the gin, I wasn’t sure.”
He took her hands and put them around his neck. “Let’s eat dinner and you can tell me more about how you’ve fooled the world.”
Since he’d pulled her right into his arms, she was breathless as she stared up into his dark, enigmatic eyes that definitely saw way more than she was comfortable with. Standing this close, she felt her heart shoot into overdrive and she wanted to step back, put some space between their bodies, but he held her close, his hands splayed on her back and waist as he looked down at her.