“No, I haven’t,” I say, returning his smile. The mafia is my family. My men are my family. That’s just how it works.
“Good. I will keep you updated, I just want you to watch your men and do so diligently. We will smell ’em out, and when we do, I have a bullet with their name on it.” I can see the determination in his eyes.
I nod my head. “Yes. If I find anything out, I will give you a call.”
He stands suddenly, bending down to place a kiss on my forehead. It is meant out of respect, and he says, “Thank you for seeing me.” And then he is out the door.
“What was that about?” Mack comes into the sitting room after closing the door behind them. He looks a bit leery of me, and then it occurs to me—should I tell him?
“Luccio thinks there may be a pig among us. Came by to let me know,” I lie. Well, half lie. I can’t possibly tell him everything, even if I trust him. In this line of business, no one can ever be fully trusted. Lines can never be drawn, or they will be crossed daily. It is best to keep things to yourself.
“Well, if I hear anything among the men, I will let you know,” Mack assures me.
“Thank you,” I reply, dismissing him. The fact that my mother’s killer is out there, beneath one of our two families, is far too much for me to stomach. I find myself crawling back upstairs to my bathroom to take another shower.
It is funny how I can kill left and right and pull people from their families like nothing, but something so simple can bring me to my knees. It doesn’t matter how much I say I don’t care, or how much I try to bathe in the blood of those I kill, it never takes the pain away, never makes me forget.
8
Amara
When I awake, I’m alone. The spot next to mine in the bed is cold, and I sigh in relief. This is the second morning I’m waking up in his bed, and I’m not even a little more used to it than yesterday.
I can hear the water running in the bathroom, even though the door is closed. I know he is taking a shower, which is weird because he took one last night as well.
He must really like his showers.
Lorenzo, or Enzo, or whatever the hell he calls himself, told me he would kill me over and over again yesterday. Except I don’t believe him, not even after I watched him kill that man downstairs yesterday. Saw how easy it was for him to take a life.
I’m surprised he hasn’t actually hurt me. Just as I’m surprised that he hasn’t forced me to have sex with him yet.
The water turns off, and the door opens, pulling me from my thoughts. I watch him as he walks out of the bathroom with a scrap of a towel covering his lower half. It looks more like a washcloth covering the area, but who am I kidding? All I can think about is the way his mouth felt against mine last night and his abs. God, his abs are beautiful. Each little chiseled marking on his stomach…the dips and planes and that V… That fucking V is something women would kill over.
“Let me give you something more to stare at…” His voice pulls me out of my trance only to throw me back into it as he drops the towel from his waist.
I can’t help my expression. My eyes widen, and my mouth gapes open. A family of flies could have made my mouth their home, it is open so long. I snap it closed, hoping he doesn’t see. He is very well hung, which I already got a glimpse of yesterday, but today I feel a little more daring. My eyes stay glued to his penis as I imagine how in the world it will fit inside of me. His head has beads of water on it, and he is cleanly shaven.
“Do you like?” he asks, smirking. His hand strokes the base, and I swear to God, one of my ovaries is about to explode. Pulling my eyes from his…cock, moving them to his eyes, turns me into a puddle of mush. I know he just killed a guy yesterday, and he’s all kinds of fucked up, and I’m supposed to be paying a debt for my father, but I am attracted to him. I can’t help it, and I am not sure if I want to.
I don’t respond to his question, afraid that it will come out as a moan. “I need to go pee,” I blurt out instead, and I get out of bed. I head straight to the bathroom and close the door behind me as I listen to his laughter.
“You can’t hide from it, piccolo.” His voice has an amusement to it that hadn’t been there yesterday. I sit on the toilet to take care of my business. I’m afraid he will come barging in, but also believe he might actually respect my privacy. One can’t tell with him.
“My dick calls to you…” Now he is just being an ass. A smile pulls at my lips, though. As fucked up as all this is, and it is all kinds of fucked up, it’s nice to smile just a little bit, even if I have no clue what will happen to me today since I’m staying with someone who points a gun at people more than he talks.
I wipe, flush, and wash my hands before actually taking a look at myself in the mirror. I feel fine though my cheeks are slightly flushed. My eyes are a warm brown, shining back at me. My hair needs some serious taming, but other than that, I don’t look as if I have been taken by a mafia king into an unknown evil land. The fact that he is still out there, probably naked, reminds me that I should talk to him about getting me some birth control. The man could get me pregnant with one look.
Timidly, I come out of the bathroom, peeking around the corner, waiting for him to jump out at me. When I spot him sitting at his desk with a pair of jeans on, I sigh in relief.
I tiptoe across the floor, hoping that he is engrossed in his mafia business too much to care what I am doing.
“Come here, piccolo,” he says sternly. I stop dead in my tracks before turning around to face him. His hair is a mess, water droplets still clinging to it, but his face looks less dark, though he still seems to have an edge to him. His demeanor seems to warn if you get too close, he will cut you straight down the middle.
“What does that even mean?” I ask, proceeding toward him with caution. He watches every step I take, his eyes going from my feet to the top of my head.
“It doesn’t matter what it means.” I can tell he isn’t going to answer me, but I can’t let it go.
“Then don’t call me that. My name is Amara,” I retort. I don’t want to be that weak girl that cowers in the corner because she is scared. I need to deal with the situation. That’s what my momma would have told me to do, grab the bull by its horns.
“I will call you whatever the fuck I want. Now take your pajamas off and sit on the edge of the desk.” His finger points to the exact location my butt cheeks need to be. Instead of doing what he wants me to do, I glare at him, willing ice daggers to come out of my eyes and stab him.
“No,” I say in the same cold tone he’d given me. A fire ignites in his eyes, and I wonder if that’s what gets him off—killing people and sex.
“No?” he questions, eyebrows raised.
“No. As in N.O.,” I repeat again, spelling it out for him in case he isn’t aware. I don’t want to have sex with him, not yet. Not that there is shit I can do about it. I will still try, though.
Shaking his head, he gives me a disappointed look. A look that has me on high alert. I just disobeyed him again.
“Okay,” he finally says, smiling. It is a dazzling one, you know, the kind that makes you go all weak in the knees? Yeah, that one. I’m so caught up that I don’t notice his body moving, or that he is within a breath’s distance from grabbing me. Picking me up, he pulls my pajama pants and panties down to my ankles and places my ass on the cold wood of his desk.