The Mafia Don’s little Con Artist

2 - Ambushed Date

How the hell did I end up on a date with Officer Friendly? Simple.

He relentlessly fussed over Liz and I for the remainder of the night, and insisted on driving us home. I was prepared to refuse his offer, but Liz beat me to the punch. Eagerly accepting the proposal on our behalf, and she completely ignored the murderous gaze I was burning into her.

Instead of making our goodbyes quick, Liz shoved me away from the stairs leading to our crappy apartment, and ran inside with a click of the lock. Forcing me to prolong my conversation with Gavin. Exhausted wasn’t even close to describing the complete and utter defeat my mind and body was under.

Knowing that Liz was listening to every word, and that Gavin was fumbling for another way to word his question, I did what I had to do to be let back into my home and finally get some rest.

“Yes, Gavin.” I relented. “Next Friday. 7:30.”

My agreement was a shock to the poor man to say the least, his mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish for a response, and I couldn’t deny how cute he looked. I smiled a genuine smile, and walked back up the steps, praying Liz was content enough to open the door. She did, and I nearly strangled her for what she just pulled.

-

So here I’m sat, in the tightest red dress that Liz could squeeze me into, with Gavin sitting across at the too small table. Liz pulled my long chocolatey brown hair back into a sleek high ponytail which exposed my face, and neck more than I was comfortable with.

The restaurant Gavin had brought me to was fancy, and if he was expecting to split the bill, then I’d be ordering water and a salad.

I read over the menu, with much strain due to the dimly lit atmosphere, and tried not to choke at the prices.

Even if Gavin had intended to take care of the check himself, I definitely wasn’t comfortable with him spending this kind of money on me.

When the waiter appeared at our table, Gavin ordered bread, an appetizer I couldn’t understand, and two glasses of wine.

The least costly item on the menu was, in fact, a chopped garden salad with your protein of choice, and house dressing. $95.99

Whichever wine Gavin had ordered must have been at least $55 dollars a glass, since there wasn’t a wine listed for less, and my stomach became twisted with dread.

The dizzy feeling I’m having could be from the prices, the lack of food I’ve had today, or both.

“..Soph?” My ears tune back in, as if I’d drowned out the sounds around me, to Gavin’s worried voice.

“Yes?”

“..are you alright?”

“Of course. Guess I got a little distracted.” I lied. “It’s been a long week, I’m sorry.”

Gavin’s posture relaxes at my answer.

“No, it’s okay. You’ve had a pretty eventful couple of days.” He chuckles.

“You can say that again.”

The cheesy banter is beyond embarrassing, but it was true. Ever since the gun show at work, the Russian boss, Aleksandr Morozov, showed up at the club every night after. He sat in the same VIP booth, never spoke a word to me, but never took his eyes away either.

On the third night, a drunk customer spilled his glass and it got all over me, and I could have sworn I saw Mr. Morozov stand up in my peripheral. Only to be stopped by one of his men. By the time I’d cleaned up and looked back, he’d left the club.

I was slightly worried, because I imagine Mr. Morozov might’ve thought I favored Mr. Toscano, being as how I only spoke with him, but that’s not the case. If I hadn’t spoken to him before, I would have addressed both men generally that night. NiteLyfe employees were more than encouraged to keep neutral interactions with patrons of mafia families, it was a hard and fast rule. No favoritism. No matter how well they tipped.

Tonight, before getting off work early, I decided to mend any hard feelings with Mr. Morozov and approached his table personally to see if he or his men needed more drinks.

His stare was blank, and a moment later he looked away. “Not necessary.” One of his men offered to me.

His gruff voice was void of favor or any emotion at all, and I wondered if I’d just made things worse for myself.

“Anything catch your eye?” Gavin nods to the menu, pulling my thoughts back down.

“Umm yah, this grilled chicken salad sounds really good actually, and I need to eat more greens.” I laugh nervously, praying he won’t argue.

“That’s it?”

“Yup! I’m gunna run to the restroom real quick.” I answer quickly. When I stand up though, I’m reminded that I’ve never been to this place before.

“All the way to the back, there’s a door on the right that opens to a long hallway.” Gavin instructs.

I smile my thanks, and strut painfully per his directions to the bathroom. Liz’s party heels have been digging dents into my achilles all night.

There’s a long corridor with red velvet carpeting that leads to the bathrooms. I pluck the shoes from my feet and shrink five inches, stretching my toes out on the soft floor. I lean up against a wall and pull out my phone to call Liz. No answer.

My phone dings.

Liz: unless it’s an sos, shut up n enjoy ur date (;

I scrunch my fist at her text. She intentionally ignored my call!

After a couple of minutes have passed, I take a deep breath and go to put my shoes back on when the door to the corridor opens up.

For a moment, my heart stops as I imagine that Gavin’s come looking for me, but when I look up, it’s worse.

Taking up the entire open door space is the Russian man who had a stand off with Mr. Toscano last night.

Aleksandr Morozov.

Even if I’d managed to put my shoes back on, five inches wouldn’t have been enough to stop this man from towering over me.

From head to toe he was clad in fine black. A fitted button up shirt, with rolled sleeves that exposed his intricate tattoos. Black slacks with a leather belt. And custom made Italian leather shoes. Ironic.

I tried keeping my eyes low, but God this man was gorgeous. His jaw alone was chiseled by the Greek Gods, and what man has hair that dark with eyes that green? A few loose strands of his charcoal hair fell in front of his face, but he made no move to fix it.

I momentarily let my mind wander far enough that my eyes found his shirt buttons, and I began picturing what was underneath. I swallowed hard, and looked back at his face to see that he was also scaling my figure with his eyes.

Holy fück Sophia! Pull yourself together! This man is a walking crime scene!

Too afraid to speak, I take two steps towards the door in hopes he’ll let me pass. When some seconds go by, I look back to his face. His jaw tightens slightly, which has my mouth watering.

He gestures to my shoes with his chin.

Oh s**t. I almost ran from here barefoot!

“Right.” I nodded and bent down to strap the devil heels back onto my poor feet, my hair slamming into my faces as I leaned over. Standing back up, my earlier suspicion was confirmed, these heels did nothing to make me feel less small in front of this man. With my shoes on, and a quick clearing of my throat, I was confused as to why he still wouldn’t let me pass.

“Excuse me-“ I began.

Too quick for my eyes, Morozov had me pinned against the wall with no escape. The air was rushed from my lungs at the movement making me gasp. Quickly filling my senses with whatever hypnotizing cologne lingered off his body.

“What are you doing here?” Mr. Morozov asked bluntly. Dammit, his thick Russian accent was enough to send waves of tingles down my legs.

“At..a restaurant?” I tried to keep the sass at a minimum, but it was a pretty odd question for him to ask. Especially since it’s the first time he’s ever spoken to me.

“With a cop?” He adds, jerking his head towards the dining hall.

“What?” My brows are pinched and my mind is officially mush. Why would he care if I was with a cop? And why am I not fearing for my life? His body pressed against mine, and his hands pinning my wrists to the wall have me feeling excited.

It’s official, I’m broken.

Mr. Morozov didn’t respond, he just glared harder down at me until my attitude recoiled.

“Ummm.. I’m on a date?”

It came out as more of a question, and I began shifting my weight from side to side.

“You’re not sure?” He smirked.

Great. My feet are killing me, I almost died this week, and now I’m being teased by a giant Russian death angel.

“I am. I’m on a date.” I solidify. Heat rises in my cheeks and I can tell my face has gone flush, but the warmth doesn’t stop there. This is NOT the time to be turned on Sophia!

Mr. Morozov eyes roam over my bare chest and exposed neck line, and said one word before releasing me.

“Interesting.”

It’s not relief that overtakes me..but rather, disappointment as I walk past him, and out into the dining area.

Two large men stood outside the door guarding the entrance to the hallway, though neither even acknowledged me as I walked out.

Gavin was waiting patiently for my return, and he even stood up to help me back into my chair.

For the first time tonight, I took full notice of how well Gavin had cleaned up for this date. He wore nice suit pants and a white collared shirt with no tie. His hair was freshly faded with enough length on top for a flattering comb over hairstyle..but I couldn’t help but compare him to Mr. Morozov. Gavin looked nice.. but Morozov looked..deadly, and I scolded myself for acknowledging the fact. Then I felt guilty for comparing Gavin to that man at all.

For the rest of the dinner I attempted to give Gavin my full attention, and even enjoyed our light conversation. My stomach churned again when the bill arrived, and I wished it relieved me to see Gavin take the ticket, but it only made me feel guilty and stressed. I hating feeling like I owed someone something, and avoided favors and offers at any chance.

After insisting to pay half, Gavin gently informed me that he’d chosen this place specifically to treat me to a nice night that I deserved.

“Really?” I muttered. Taking more notice of the beautiful details that garnished our table alone. Like two tea light candles and a vase with a single rose. “Thank you Gavin. Really. It was beautiful.” I blushed.

The wine motivated most of the tint in my cheeks, but Gavin seemed pleased enough about it.

On our way out, I was thinking that despite how lovely tonight went, it didn’t truly change anything. Gavin would have to be content remaining friends, and I was about to explain it to him just as his phone rang.

“Hello?” He answered. “What? Ok- calm down, I’ll be right there.”

“Is everything alright?” I worried. Gavin started walking us outside.

“Yes, I’m needed at work urgently though, so I’m gunna have to get you a cab. I’m so sorry, I wanted to take you home mys-“

“It’s okay.” I hurried. “I can get my own cab, you take care of work.” I offered my best reassuring smile.

After a moment of hesitation, Gavin accepted my dismissal and began to walk away dialing on his phone again.

But as quickly as he’d left, he reappeared before me, and placed a kiss on my cheek, catching me off guard.

“Goodnight.” He sighed, and ran off down the sidewalk.