I grab her arm firmly and pull her across the room toward the front door, ignoring her token resistance. She struggles assoon as we get outside, like she needs to put on a show for the streetwalkers and addicts who are watching our interaction with varying degrees of interest and indifference.
I pull her over to my car and stop at the passenger side door. I had parked on the street, hoping this would be a quick interaction and we could leave immediately. Elena is still trying to remove herself from my grip, struggling against me as I pull her into my chest to keep her from causing a scene.
"Stop it, Elena. We're getting in my car and you're going to answer my questions." I hold her hands behind her back tightly. She tilts her head back to look at me with a smile that's equal parts innocent and wicked.
Then she arches against me. Deliberately presses her body into mine in a way that's impossible to ignore.
Heat floods through me—the kind I have no business feeling. My grip on her wrists tightens reflexively. Every muscle in my body goes taut as I fight the urge to either push her away or pull her closer. I'm not sure which impulse is winning.
"Oh yes! Harder," she says with that same smirk.
Fuck. She knows exactly what she's doing. This is all part of whatever game she's playing. She's baiting me. Trying to get a reaction.
I force myself to breathe. To remember where we are—on a street corner surrounded by prostitutes and junkies. To remember who she is—Rina's cousin, Elio's daughter, sixteen years too young for me.
Without dignifying her comment with a response, I turn her toward the car door. She starts laughing the second she sees the state of my vehicle. My passenger side window has been busted out. Glass scattered across the seat.
"What did you think would happen bringing this car to this side of town?" she says through her giggles, and I have to admit she has a point. "We're in trouble now," she continues laughing.
I open the door despite the broken window, then quickly remove my jacket and lay it over the glass-covered seat. I can't have Elena cutting herself on the debris, even if she did choose to meet someone in the worst neighborhood in New York.
I hold her arms at her sides and guide her into the car, noting the way her expression changes when she realizes I'm protecting her from the glass. She looks genuinely surprised, like she expected me to just shove her into the seat without regard for her safety.
"Don't want the glass to cut your legs," I explain, and her expression shifts to something I can't quite read.
I close the door without another word, though I think I hear a soft "thank you" from inside the car. Jesus Christ, this was exhausting. Watching Elena is going to be a nightmare if every interaction is this combative.
CHAPTER 5
Marco
I've been glancingat the penthouse security cameras more today than ever before. I keep telling myself it's to check and make sure Elena isn't getting into any trouble, but honestly, she intrigues me in ways that have nothing to do with professional surveillance.
Last night was troubling on multiple levels. Elena meets with some random criminal in a god-awful part of town, and she didn't even want to leave when I dragged her to my car. I'm hoping this isn't how she normally spends her free time, but right now I'm not sure of anything when it comes to Elena Messina.
Then there's that sassy mouth of hers. The way she whispered "harder" when I pulled her into me still echoes in my head. I groan at the memory of her pressed up against me, that fucking smirk playing on her full lips. The thoughts that follow—what I could make that mouth do—are dangerous territory I have no business exploring.
I inwardly chastise myself for these reactions.
No, Marco. She's Vito's family now. I’m not authorized to cross that line.
She's so seemingly oblivious to the level of danger in our world. She's highly aware of her surroundings but appears unaware of how the situations she puts herself in could bring her demise. It's like she lives on the edge, dancing one step away from falling over the cliff.
I've gotten almost nothing done today. Elena apparently invited herself over to see Rina and while Rina sleeps in this morning, Elena has been busy making herself at home in nearly every room in Vito's penthouse, which is impressive considering he owns three entire floors of this building. She's evaded the camera angles a few times, but after hearing Tony's recount of yesterday's bathroom escape, I'm not surprised. The woman clearly has skills and I don't doubt that she's testing them out.
Right now, she's in the kitchen stealing some fruit that’s been cut up, and even through the grainy security feed, I can see she's beautiful. Even in a loose sweatshirt and sweatpants with her hair pulled back in a claw clip, she's stunning in a way that makes my chest tighten.
I blink myself out of this trance and head for the elevator. Part of me would rather live in a house away from the city with some land—no one to bother me for miles—but that's not conducive to my lifestyle.
I'm Vito's consigliere and I would do anything to protect him and the family. He changed my life when I met him at twenty years old, and I'm forever grateful. Still, sometimes I long for peace and quiet.
The elevator brings me to Vito's lower level. We use it for meetings, parties, extra guest rooms, and anything else we need. Vito likes to keep his penthouse as his home, not his office, and I respect that boundary.
The elevator opens directly into the foyer, and I'm immediately greeted by voices from the kitchen. Rafa greets mefirst, then Luca, with a couple of head nods from the rest of the guys scattered around the space.
"So I saw Elena at breakfast this morning," Rafa says, and I look at him with furrowed brows while he just smirks. "Rough night?"
My grunt is the only response he's going to get right now. I'm not discussing Elena with anyone until I understand what's happening myself.
