minded it one bit.
That was exactly the sort of thing I needed for my article. If I could just get more pictures of him in places like that, I could really blow this whole thing wide open.
I bit my lip, looking over at my window.
Was I really still writing this article? After everything that had happened, after the way he made me feel, I didn’t know if I could still do it.
This was so stupid. Of course I couldn’t do it anymore.
I sat up as the realization jolted me physically.
I’d gotten too close to Bull. I’d seen both his bad side and his good side. He ran an important charity and had had a difficult childhood, and yet he also went to horrible fights and threw parties with hookers. He was involved with the mob, but he made me feel something I’d never gotten close to feeling before.
I wasn’t going to do the article. Maybe I’d never see Bull again, but I wasn’t going to go through with it. I couldn’t keep trying to use this man when so many people had tried to do it before me. He didn’t deserve that, and I couldn’t do it to him.
I stood up, smiling to myself, when there was a knock at my door.
I stood still, surprised. Nobody knocked at my door. They rang the buzzer from downstairs.
I walked over to it tentatively.
“Hello?” I called out.
“Miss Williams?”
“Yes?”
“This is your super. Can we speak?”
I paused and then slowly pulled open the door. I’d never met the super before.
He was tall and muscular with a cocky grin. His eyes stared directly into mine, and I had to admit that he was a little handsome if you liked that dangerous sort of man.
And he definitely wasn’t the super.
“My name is Rafa,” he said.
“Who are you?”
“I’m a friend of Bull’s.”
“So you’re not the super.”
“Afraid not. Can I come in?”
I went to close the door, but he stepped inside anyway, practically pushing his way inside. I stepped back, surprised, as he looked around my apartment.
“Nice,” he said.
“Please leave.” I was getting nervous.
“This won’t take long. I just want to have one simple conversation with you.”
“Who are you?”
“Like I said, I’m a friend of Bull’s, and I know who you are, Charley.”
I cocked my head at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re a journalist,” he said simply. “And you’ve been spending a lot of time with Bull lately.”
I stared at him, not saying a word.
I didn’t know this man. Bull had never mentioned him, and I’d never seen him at any of the parties I’d been to. As far as I could tell, he was a total stranger.
But he seemed to know me. He knew my last name, my nickname, and the fact that I was a sports journalist. Despite the fact that I was the lowest level journalist possible, he still somehow found that out.
And he showed up at my apartment like this, unannounced, and seemed fine with coming right in without being invited. He was looking at me with a normal expression, almost patient, but there was menace in his eyes.
I didn’t know what Bull knew. I had to assume Bull didn’t know I was a journalist, or else he wouldn’t have been taking me out still.
“What do you want?” I asked him finally.
“Good. We can skip all the bullshit then.” He smiled and walked into my kitchen. He grabbed a mug from my cabinet and poured himself some coffee.
“Help yourself,” I said.
“Do you want Bull to know you’re a journalist?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Are you writing about him?”
“Yes,” I said. “Well, no. Not anymore.”
“Good. Bull is a friend, and I want to protect him.”
“I’m not writing about him. You can leave.”
“Charley, Charley, Charley. Do you not know who I am?”
“No.”
“I’m a fucking mobster, girl. This is a shakedown.”
“What?”
“It’s simple. You either pay me off, or I tell Bull the truth about you.”
I stared at him. I didn’t know if he was bluffing or what.
“Go ahead,” I said, deciding to call him on
That was exactly the sort of thing I needed for my article. If I could just get more pictures of him in places like that, I could really blow this whole thing wide open.
I bit my lip, looking over at my window.
Was I really still writing this article? After everything that had happened, after the way he made me feel, I didn’t know if I could still do it.
This was so stupid. Of course I couldn’t do it anymore.
I sat up as the realization jolted me physically.
I’d gotten too close to Bull. I’d seen both his bad side and his good side. He ran an important charity and had had a difficult childhood, and yet he also went to horrible fights and threw parties with hookers. He was involved with the mob, but he made me feel something I’d never gotten close to feeling before.
I wasn’t going to do the article. Maybe I’d never see Bull again, but I wasn’t going to go through with it. I couldn’t keep trying to use this man when so many people had tried to do it before me. He didn’t deserve that, and I couldn’t do it to him.
I stood up, smiling to myself, when there was a knock at my door.
I stood still, surprised. Nobody knocked at my door. They rang the buzzer from downstairs.
I walked over to it tentatively.
“Hello?” I called out.
“Miss Williams?”
“Yes?”
“This is your super. Can we speak?”
I paused and then slowly pulled open the door. I’d never met the super before.
He was tall and muscular with a cocky grin. His eyes stared directly into mine, and I had to admit that he was a little handsome if you liked that dangerous sort of man.
And he definitely wasn’t the super.
“My name is Rafa,” he said.
“Who are you?”
“I’m a friend of Bull’s.”
“So you’re not the super.”
“Afraid not. Can I come in?”
I went to close the door, but he stepped inside anyway, practically pushing his way inside. I stepped back, surprised, as he looked around my apartment.
“Nice,” he said.
“Please leave.” I was getting nervous.
“This won’t take long. I just want to have one simple conversation with you.”
“Who are you?”
“Like I said, I’m a friend of Bull’s, and I know who you are, Charley.”
I cocked my head at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re a journalist,” he said simply. “And you’ve been spending a lot of time with Bull lately.”
I stared at him, not saying a word.
I didn’t know this man. Bull had never mentioned him, and I’d never seen him at any of the parties I’d been to. As far as I could tell, he was a total stranger.
But he seemed to know me. He knew my last name, my nickname, and the fact that I was a sports journalist. Despite the fact that I was the lowest level journalist possible, he still somehow found that out.
And he showed up at my apartment like this, unannounced, and seemed fine with coming right in without being invited. He was looking at me with a normal expression, almost patient, but there was menace in his eyes.
I didn’t know what Bull knew. I had to assume Bull didn’t know I was a journalist, or else he wouldn’t have been taking me out still.
“What do you want?” I asked him finally.
“Good. We can skip all the bullshit then.” He smiled and walked into my kitchen. He grabbed a mug from my cabinet and poured himself some coffee.
“Help yourself,” I said.
“Do you want Bull to know you’re a journalist?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Are you writing about him?”
“Yes,” I said. “Well, no. Not anymore.”
“Good. Bull is a friend, and I want to protect him.”
“I’m not writing about him. You can leave.”
“Charley, Charley, Charley. Do you not know who I am?”
“No.”
“I’m a fucking mobster, girl. This is a shakedown.”
“What?”
“It’s simple. You either pay me off, or I tell Bull the truth about you.”
I stared at him. I didn’t know if he was bluffing or what.
“Go ahead,” I said, deciding to call him on
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