I grin at him for repeating Freya’s words. Yeah, I think we’ll get along just fine.
Chapter 5
Matteo
“You know what you need to do to make this all go away,” Stefano Ricci repeats for what feels like the hundredth time.
I’ve already addressed his concerns about the “spy” that spooked him a few days ago. I’ve reassured him multiple times the threat has been dealt with, but he’s still not budging. It’s strange behavior for someone who contacted me for a trade deal. But now he wants more territory. The greedy, beady-eyed bastard. But he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.
The original deal was that his crew would clean the scrapyard up and run it like a legit port for private businesses. Of course, that would be the cover for running drugs in and out of the port. The Chicago River flows into Lake Michigan, which gives us access into Canada. We split profits – sixty-five/thirty-five, and secure peace between our families. Trust is always tentative, and no one fully gives it to anyone outside their family, but allies are valuable and useful as long as you know when to cut ties.
I let Enzo, the captain for the territory we’re making a deal on, take over. The men go back and forth while my mind wanders to the curvy bookstagrammer, which is apparently a thing.
The last time I saw her, I was dropping her off in front of her door. That was three days ago. It’s ridiculous how much I’ve thought about her since then. The image of her curled up in the library in nothing but a too-short robe will forever be burned into my brain.
I lost my shit when I saw the curve of her barely contained breasts and her creamy, thick thighs. I wanted to rip that fucking piece of cloth off her gorgeous body and spank her ass for walking around like that. Then I pictured the way those cheeks would jiggle under the force of my rough hands, and I had to tear my eyes away from her to keep from spreading her out on the floor and fucking her right then and there.
In my lust and confusion, I snapped at her. The pain in her eyes twisted me up inside, so much so that I stammered out an apology. Or rather, I tried to apologize before I was cut off. Still, it’s the first time in damn near twenty years I’ve even thought about doing so.
And when she tripped and fell into my arms? Motherfucking hell. Those curves, her sugary-sweet smell, the warmth of her skin, and the knowledge that one tug of the loosely tied belt would bare her to me completely had me almost coming in my damn pants.
It’s not just unquenchable lust that keeps drawing me closer and closer to Darlene. It’s the spark of defiance and passion buried under layers of sweet, shy innocence. It’s how she works hard even knowing the job is a farce. Obviously, I don't need another housekeeper, but I also couldn't just lock her up and throw away the key. Okay, I could do that, but I wanted her to choose me. I mean, choose safety. Yes. I wanted her to choose her own safety.
No, I wanted her to choose me to provide her safety.
It’s true. A soul-deep satisfaction washes over me at the thought of shielding her from every evil thing that could possibly hurt her. I’m just struggling to figure out who is going to protect her from me. I’m an evil thing that lurks in the shadows. But I would never harm a single hair on her head.
In the days since our last encounter, I’ve learned everything there is to know about Darlene. Which is to say, not much. She grew up in foster care, she works as a librarian, and her best and seemingly only friend is Freya Murphy.
Darlene lives in a shitty studio apartment in an even shittier part of the city. I bought her out of her lease and had her stuff moved to a storage unit on the compound. It angered me there was no security at her apartment complex nor in her apartment itself, save for a deadbolt on her front door that’s been there since Jimmy Carter was in office.
I went through her mail, her books, and her trash. I stopped short of going through her panty drawer, though it was a struggle. I already knew she wasn’t a spy or a mole, but I didn’t get to where I am today by not paying attention to detail and gathering every single bit of information available.
Darlene is a good girl. Probably a bit lonely. She doesn’t belong in my world, but now she won’t survive outside of it. I’m not sure what my end game is with her, which isn’t like me at all. Then again, I haven’t been acting like myself since I first laid eyes on her. My angel.
At first glance, she seems reserved. Cautious. Any civilian would be understandably anxious at being thrust into this life. But while Darlene has been a little skittish, she strangely doesn’t seem afraid. In fact, I don’t think she’s acting any differently than she would in her normal life.
Beneath that shy demeanor, she exudes a strength I don’t think she’s even aware of. I sensed it that first day she was brought to me. She was fearful, yes, but also resilient. That’s what first captured my attention. Okay, her curves were the first thing to sparked my interest, but it was her fortitude that kept it. It showed just enough to let me know there was a deep well of courage she can draw from when necessary.
I could tell she was someone that people underestimated, herself included. It’s something we have in common, Darlene and me. We are opposites in many obvious ways, but I’m someone who has been underestimated my whole life. That’s clearly not the case anymore, but those scars are there all the same.
These are the thoughts that plague me, as much or even more so than her killer body. I haven't talked to Darlene since our interaction in the library a few days ago, but I've kept tabs on her. It's not unusual, and in fact, it's the protocol for everyone who enters my home. Doubly so if they are part of the staff. The difference is, I care all too much about what she's doing. How she's doing. Who she's talking to around the compound.
At first, I tried to convince myself that my borderline obsession was in the interest of her own safety, but I've long since abandoned that idea. I know my fascination is unique to Darlene and Darlene alone.
I gave her the impression her position as part of my staff, as well as my protection, was temporary. I probably even meant it at the time. But not anymore. How could I possibly let her go? At the same time, how could she ever fit into my life? She deserves a good man. I’m many things to many people, but good isn’t one of them.
“Look, either that fat bitch gets a bullet in the head, or we’re out,” Stefano yells, bringing me back into the present.
I growl and stand up so quickly my chair topples to the floor with a loud, reverberating crash. I swear to God if Stefano says one more fucking thing about Darlene, I'm going to snap his neck in two, consequences be damned.
Enzo widens his eyes at me, no doubt surprised by my outburst. I am always composed in these meetings. I’d rather my enemies - or tentative allies, as the case may be, underestimate me. People make mistakes when they feel comfortable, and even more so when they feel superior. The other Dons are known for their rage, whereas I am known for my stoicism. Then I strike in the dead of the night, silently, mercilessly, and without remorse.
But I’m not feeling stoic right now. I’m feeling unhinged.
"Enough!" I roar, pleased when Stefano and his men wince. "You are not going to use this as a bargaining chip to weasel your way into more land. That’s fucking ludicrous.” His jaw clenches and his eyes tick to the side, letting me know I hit my mark. "Well, I have news for you, Stefano – you, and the entire Ricci family. You need me more than I need you. I've let you play your games, but it ends now. You have one week to either accept the generous offer on the table or walk away."