“No. You merely reminded me that I can’t care for the wounded, sick little puppies like yourself.” It is a knee-jerk response to fire back a shitty remark.
“I’m not a wounded, sick puppy. I’m a girl who lost her mom to cancer and is doing her father a favor because she doesn’t want him to die.” Her voice echoes off the ceiling and rings in my ears. My veins fill with acid as I stalk over to her. She is small and innocent, but she is prey lying in my bed.
“Did you just yell at me?” I ask coolly. Now she really did hit a nerve, and the only way I know how to deal with things that get on my nerves is to kill them. Except I can’t kill her.
Lowering her voice and keeping it even, she answers, “I told you exactly what I’ve wanted to since you tied me up in my home.” This time she is the one radiating coldness, and that angers me even more. This woman is infuriating. I hate and love it at the same time.
No one talks to me like she does. Even through her fear, she can’t help but speak her mind, and there is something refreshing about that.
Before I can get a word in, she continues, “You bring me to this house, and I have no idea what’s going on or who you are. You take my entire world away from me, leaving me at your mercy. I’m confused, scared, and trying to figure out how I should approach all of this, and you—”
I cut her off, my lips sending whatever words that were going to escape back into her as I hold her captive within a searing kiss.
A groan escapes her lips, and I smile against her mouth, knowing full well she enjoys my lips on hers. I coax her lips open, slowly invading her mouth with my own. She tastes delectable, and I feel like I won’t ever be able to get enough of her.
Her small hands skim across my chest and onto my back. Her nails rake my skin, and I’m on the verge of losing the last shred holding me back from taking her right here and now.
Pulling back, I take in the red splotches spreading across her cheeks as her big, brown, doe eyes look back at me. She looks a bit taken aback, but more importantly, she seems thoroughly satisfied.
“Not so much of a monster now, am I?” I joke, my finger swiping across her plump bottom lip.
“You’re still a monster,” she retorts, pulling away from me as if she is embarrassed to have kissed me, and enjoyed it.
“Remember that, sweetheart, when I bury my face between those creamy thighs of yours.” I smirk as I get up from the bed and walk away.
Now I have to take a shower so I can beat myself off again. Hopefully, this won’t become my nightly ritual.
7
Enzo
When I awake the next morning, my body is overly warm. I feel a small hand against my chest and a leg curved into my thigh. Even if she says she hates me, this alone tells me not all of her does. Part of her wants me. She craves something—comfort maybe.
I turn to glare at the clock that sits on the nightstand. It is nearly six a.m. and although I don’t normally get up this early, I feel like I need to. I have some built up aggression, and I can’t get through the day if I don’t go workout.
I slip quietly and slowly from the bed, so I don’t wake Amara.
She is a spitfire. I haven’t given her enough credit. She isn’t okay with anything that I do, in fact, I’m sure she is afraid of it—as she should be. The mafia is no place for a woman. My mother hadn’t…
The thought enters my mind, but I force it away. I refuse to think about my mother. Refuse. It is a shame because I loved her, but thinking about her opens up a gaping hole in my chest.
“Boss, there is someone here to see you,” Mack announces over the intercom located in my bathroom. I slip into the closet and pick out a pair of low-rise blue jeans and a T-shirt. I plan on staying home today, so I pick something that is laid back.
“I’ll be down in five,” I reply. I wipe on some deodorant and brush my teeth.
I slip out of the bedroom, but not before I allow myself a second to look at Amara lying in my bed. I feel nothing for her, but at the same time, I do. We both lost our mothers, so I know what she is going through on that front, but everything else is foreign to me.
“Who the fuck is here this early?” I yell to Mack, descending the stairs two at a time. My foot hits the bottom step when I turn to the front door to see Luccio–head of the Russo family–who owns the territory past the state line. We have no bad blood between us, but that doesn’t make it okay for him to come into my house without being invited.
“Luccio,” I say calmly. He is wearing a button down shirt and dress slacks. He doesn’t look as if he is ready to spill blood, but then again, most criminals don’t fit the profile of one.
“Lorenzo,” he says. His words are heavily laced with an Italian accent that reminds me of home.
“Mack tells me you’re here for something. What can I help you with?” I question, raising an eyebrow up at him.
He looks between Mack and me before dismissing his men. I’m not sure what is meant by that, but I don’t ask questions. A bat of my eyelash and Mack is gone, tending to other needs in the house.
“I believe we have gotten into a case that you may want to know about.” What could he possibly be talking about? We walk the short distance into the sitting room, taking seats across from one another.
“Continue, I’m listening.” And I am. Intently.
“We believe one of your men and my men are working together and have been for some time without it being known on either side. We also believe that they have information regarding your mother’s death.”
The way he says my mother’s death makes it seem real, and I hate seeing it like that. I clench my fists tightly together to stop myself from lashing out at him.
“What do you mean? You either have the proof that such things are taking place, or you don’t.”
He runs a hand through his graying hair. He reminds me so much of my father in the way he talks, stands, and in his gestures and mannerisms. If he weren’t from another mafia family, I would consider him to be my own blood.
“See, that’s the problem, Lorenzo. We have nothing other than a lead that led us to a dead body. This is the mafia, and you know about as much as we do. Our people know how to kill, we train them, teach them to do so. They will kill every lead we get, and they’ll disappear right from under our noses.”
He’s right. Fuck, he’s right. I run a hand through my hair, hoping it will ease some of the tension. There is too much going on right now between the girl upstairs, this, and the many debts that need to be settled…
“Luccio,” I sigh.
“Lorenzo, I know you’re a busy man. I wouldn’t have come to you if I didn’t believe this information. I’m trying to look out for the best of both of our kingdoms, fratello.” I know he means it out of the kindness of his heart. No one else has ever called me their brother.
“I get that. I truthfully do, but you do understand what accusing our own kind does, don’t you?” I have to ask him. It will cause an uprising if anyone discovers what we will be doing. If it is discovered that we are wrong, we would be seen as weak, and weak in the mafia just gives people another reason to take you out.
A smile tips at his lips. “Yes, young Lorenzo, I do. Have you forgotten your father and I worked together?”