Made to be the Mafia lords own

Amari's POV

Martinis. Italian beef. Then Manhattans.

I'm trying to remember something that has to do with why I'm here, but it all seems fuzzy. Like the jazz tune playing on the stereo. This is supposed to be a stop for jazz fans, like people really into that genre of blessed sounds, but here we are.

A trio. Poking our noses.

All I know is, that Marco and Isabella suggested someplace called The Green Mill on the North side of Chicago for some drinks. Why? No goddamn idea.

I look around the place and all I see are patrons dressed in jeans t-shirts and hats; a couple are dressed in shorts and sandals, their upper half bare.

"Some fashion here," I say.

Marco flashes a smile at me. He's been giving Isabella a lot of those since we sat down at this table. "Don't be sarcastic. The fashion is much more relaxed and less formal than it was in the past. It's all about being comfortable. Goditi la musica."

"You don't say. What did they wear in the past?"

Marco leans towards me like what he's about to say doesn't demand another listening ear. "Back in the nineteen twenties and nineteen thirteens, jazz fans would often dress in suits and ties, or with fur coats and jewelry. For men, hats were a must, and fedoras were particularly popular. For women, hats and gloves were important accessories. And of course, high heels and stockings were essential."

"Sounds like a cult to me," I comment. "What the hell is playing on the stereo anyway?"

Marco just smiles. Isabella laughs. I nurse my Manhattan.

A cool breeze drifts in through the open windows of the bar, bringing with it the sounds of the city outside. The hustle and bustle of the streets out there seems far away from the cozy interior of the bar, where everything seems soft and slow.

I try to relax my nerves, but it is so hard to shake the feeling of anticipation that has been plaguing me all day like a dog at a bone. I can't seem to put my finger on it, but something feels off. Like, there's something about to happen that's gonna change my life forever.

Marco and Isabella share a laugh. I get sick of it.

I sip my Manhattan, rise from my chair, and walk to the bar where I sit on a stool and watch the clock tick its way around.

"You okay, signora?" the bartender asks.

I sigh. Tell him that I probably need a better company in Italian. He shrugs, cleans off a tumbler, and walks off.

I sit here for a few minutes, then as if summoned by my words, someone comes and sits down next to me. I don't need to turn. I can tell it's a man.

As he sits down, I catch a whiff of his cologne. It is light and fresh, but also somehow earthy. I cannot help but take a deep breath, trying to place the scent. Is it sandalwood? Maybe sage?

The bartender comes over.

"Manhattan cocktail."

His voice is smooth and deep, like rich, dark chocolate. I don't even know why this comes to mind.

Bartender nods. "Same as the lady."

I notice him turn to me. "Nice to meet an indulger."

I feel my heart skip a beat. I don't know what it is about this man, but something about him feels... magnetic.

"I'm Antonio," he says, extending his hand.

I turn to him and I take his hand tentatively, like a peace offering. And experience a spark of electricity. It is like nothing I have ever felt before.

"Amari," I say, though my voice comes out in a whisper.

Antonio raises an eyebrow. "Amari. Lovely name. A pleasure to meet you." He releases my hand just as the bartender brings him the order. Antonio immediately takes a sip of his drink, like he's been craving for it.

"Said that before," I remind him, and scoff. "And pleasure? Not when it means bitterness."

"But does it matter?"

I try to collect myself, but I can't help but feel a little breathless. I say something about needing better company, and one comes like a wish granted by a djinn.

"Looks like you needed that," I say, finally finding my voice. "Is that what brought you here?"

Antonio leans in a little closer, and I can feel his breath on my cheek.

"I'm here on business," he says, his voice low and conspiratorial. "I'm in this part of town for a few days and wanted to find a place to relax after a long day."

I nod, my heart still racing. There is something about Antonio that makes me feel off-balance like I'm a pirate ship tossed in a storm. But I don't want to leave. I want to stay right where I am, in this strange, electric moment.

I like strange.

Antonio takes another sip of his drink. "What about you? What brings you to this bar on this particular night?"

I hesitate, unsure what to say. I don't want to tell Antonio the truth, that this was a suggestion but the novelty of it was what drew me to this bar, like a moth to a flame. Finally, I lie, "I just felt like going out. Gioviti la musica."

Antonio smiles. "I don't believe you. There's something else going on here, I can tell."

I feel my face flush and the sting.

He notices. "Feel like I'm putting you on the spot? No offense. Just that I'm a bit of a people-watcher, and I can tell when someone is hiding something. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to."

I am surprised by Antonio's sincerity. It is unexpected, but also refreshing. I take a deep breath. "It's okay. It's just...it's complicated."

"Hmm," he says, eyes still fixed on me.

"I've just been feeling like something is missing from my life. I'm not sure what it is, but it's been on my mind a lot lately."

Antonio nods. "I can understand that. Sometimes, we just know something is missing, even if we can't quite put our finger on what it is. And it can be frustrating."

I feel a sense of relief washes over me. Well, Antonio seems to understand me better than Marco or Isabella, and I feel like I can be honest with him.

This stranger.

"Maybe you just need to try something new," Antonio ventures. "Something that will shake up your routine and make you feel alive again."

He looks at me expectantly, as if waiting for a response.

I think for a moment. I am so used to going through the motions of my life, doing the same things every day. But I know Antonio is right. I need to do something different. "What would you suggest?"

Antonio smiles like he's been waiting for this question. "I have a few ideas. Why don't we start small, and then we can work our way up to something more adventurous."

"Something like?"

"Ever danced in a bar before?"

I am rendered speechless for a moment, and then I spurt out a laugh. "What?"

"A dance in a bar, Amari."

"No, I have not danced in a bar before and I have no intentions of doing so in this life."

"What did we say about doing things differently?"

"Not this, which I guess you have done plenty of times," I say, with some pang of jealousy. Why should I even be? He's handsome. Tall. Dark hair. Blue eyes. And a mouth that can warm one's insides, if given the chance. If he's been a bad boy, why should I feel bad?

"This is my first time too," he says.

And I have to scoff. "So you're willing to make me your first dance partner?"

"If you can trust me, Amari," he says, conditionally.

I look back at Marco and Isabella. His head is buried in her neck, and her left hand fingers his ear. Finally, some smooching is about to take place. Why should I be left out then?

I smile at him. "I think I can."

The music plays softly, and the lights are dim. We stand facing each other, and Antonio takes my hand in his. He places his other hand on my waist, bringing up a lot of tingles in my body, and we begin to move in time to the music. I feel the warmth of his hand on my waist, and I am so acutely aware of his body close to mine. Tingles of excitement flow through me as we move across the floor. The dance seems to go on forever, then it is over all too soon. The song ends but we don't move apart. Instead, we stand close together, looking into each other's eyes. There is a moment of awkwardness, as we both seem unsure of what to do next.

Then, Antonio speaks. "Would you like to come with me to my room for a drink?"