I have to try. I have to.
Not yet.
I don’t want to ruin our last day together by sounding needy, or clingy.
I’ll wait. Just a while longer.
23
Massimo
Ilost control again. Angela has that effect on me. Always did. I just never knew it.
I look at her. She’s leaning on my chest and gazing at me adorably with those big green eyes.
I don’t think I’ll be able to give her up. Already I’m treating her more like a girlfriend than a captive. She knows it. I know it.
But what about my brothers? She’s supposed to be our big payday. And what about my revenge against her father? Honestly, I almost don’t care anymore. The hole that her father burned through my heart when he had his men throw me into the sea has been filled, repaired by this amazing woman. I still feel like I don’t deserve her, but who am I to judge what’s best for her if she wants me? Isn’t it enough that she accepts me for who I am? Mobster and all?
“What are you thinking about?” she asks me softly.
I stare into those green eyes, losing myself in them. “You.”
“What about me?”
But then my phone buzzes. I sigh.
“Don’t get it,” she tells me.
I ignore her and reach down toward my back pocket, which sits close to my knees at the moment.
I grab the phone. “It’s the main gate.”
I press the open button, and then gently slide her off me. I put on my jeans, slipping the phone into the back pocket, and button up my dress shirt.
She follows my lead, getting dressed without me having to tell her.
I grab some paper towels from the kitchen and throw them over the cum stains I left on the floor. I quickly clean up and toss the soiled towels into the garbage bin under the sink.
I head toward the front door.
“Stay here,” I tell Angela over my shoulder.
I reach the front door and open it. The man I recognize as Francesco emerges from the sleek, black Alfa Romeo parked in the driveway. He carries the groceries I told Angela about earlier.
The man pauses, remembering his balaclava, and ducks inside the vehicle to put it on.
Francesco is one of Luciano’s most loyal men. He wouldn’t reveal Angela was with us even if he was tortured to death. Luciano met him in jail, where they covered for each other—Sicilian prisons can be quite brutal, especially if you’re not part of one of the bigger mafia clans, and Luciano and Francesco saved each other’s lives on several occasions. His history with my brother is the only reason I’m allowing Francesco close to the villa today.
He approaches in his mask, and I notice the questioning look in his eyes when he sees I’m not wearing my balaclava. Wisely, he doesn’t say anything.
I accept the bag. “Wait here. I have some money I want you to deliver for me.”
He nods.
I might as well utilize him while I have the chance. I wasn’t kidding when I told Stefano that it’s hard to run my business when I’m stuck inside all day with Angela. Not that I’m really complaining, of course.
I bring the grocery items toward the kitchen, passing Angela in the family room, who waits on the couch. She opens her mouth, perhaps to ask me if our visitor is gone yet, but I shake my head and give her a warning look. She holds her tongue.
