His breathing picks up, and his breath flutters across my cheek before he leans a little closer. His lips are almost touching mine, his tongue flicks out, licking over his bottom lip, but his gaze stays locked on me. The want clear in his eyes. Lust irrevocably burns through him. He grips my chin as he leans in. His eyes boring into mine.
I blink. I blow out a breath and take a step away. Turn and walk to my room without looking back, emotions running through me like electricity. The place on my neck and jaw he touched burning, his touch a ghost still lingering on my skin but its conflicting, it doesn’t burn like when Vittorio touches me, that longing that he instils in me when he stares at me, caresses me, it’s different almost disturbing. It doesn’t feel right. As much as he’s hot. He’s one of the few people I have, that’s mine, that is on my side. If I cross a boundary with him, how can he do his job properly? How can he protect me if feelings get confused and lines get blurred? I storm down the hall. Needing to put distance between us. Snatching at my door and throwing it open. Kicking it shut behind me and storming through my room and into the bathroom. I rip off what’s left of my clothing and turn the shower on, then stare at myself in the mirror while the water warms.
The steam starts to linger like an eerie mist. Slowly filling the room with stifling uncertainty. I stare into the mirror, taking in my features, the marks on my skin. I don’t even look like myself anymore. The steam bellows out through the room before I slowly fade away. The black and purple bruising on my neck, on my body, blurs until I can’t see myself. I sigh as I step into the shower. I rest my handsagainst the wall and hang my head. I take a breath and then another, trying to reset. My eyes close and I let the water beat down on the back of my neck, and I stand there. I wait for the feelings to dissipate. But they don’t, I feel them all. The anger, the confusion, regret, annoyance, lust. I feel everything so overwhelmingly.
I hate that internally, I can’t control my feelings as well as I can externally. To everyone else, I’m indifferent, while internally I wage a war on myself. I berate myself for feeling out of control. When it comes to my personal feelings it’s like I’ve never really been allowed to have them before. And now with Alfredo and father gone, I have all the feelings, and I don’t know how to process any of it.
But I know I want him. I want Vittorio, but can I have him? Does he belong to another? I know I said I’d choose him, that I’d marry him. But the reality is, we don’t even have a relationship. We have a verbal agreement. Which honestly isn’t worth the paper it’s written on. How do I go from this to having him be my person? To be my support, my partner, somewhere to lean. Am I expecting too much? Does such a thing even exist?
I replay every interaction with all the men in my life repeatedly in my head. The water still beating down, the sensation of it on my body soothes the aches. Am I any closer to taking over? I know I don’t want to be a part of the Syndicate anymore after my encounter with Lorenzo Costa and his sons.
I know they won’t allow it even if I prove myself, and then what? Who will come for me? Will it be Bellino, Massimo, or will it be Vittorio? He already has access to me. He’s more than capable of killing me at any time. Maybe he’s a plant. Maybe this is a set-up.
What if the falling out, his siding with me, was just a ruse to get him close to me? To get me to trust him all so he can slit my throat in my sleep. Well, bring it on, Vittorio, because I know damned well if that’s the case, I’m not going down without a fight. If I’m being taken out. I’ll go down dragging every one of those sorry sacks of shit with me.
Ilean over and snatch the shampoo off the shelf and scrub it into my hair. Tomorrow is another day, and fuck, God help anyone who gets in my way. I will not be made a fool of.
I barely slept. I tossed and turned, dreams flooding my head with endless possibilities. I head downstairs, ready for the day ahead of me. I’m in full take it all fucking back mode. Channelling my inner fuck around and find out.
I stare at Matteo while I speak. “I need you both with me today. I need you on form. We need to be ready for anything. I’m walking into hell.”
I spare a quick glance at Luca before training my gaze back to Matteo. They both nod. “Tool up. I’ll meet you at the car in thirty minutes.”
Once they’ve left, I push through into the kitchen. The smell of freshly ground coffee soothes something in me, and Marianne’s gaze flicks to mine. She smiles and heads over to the coffee maker, placing three heaped spoons of brown sugar in the bottom of the cup before pouring the black liquid over it. Filling the cup, she stirs atit a few times, taps the spoon on the side, before smiling at me and handing it to me.
“Vittorio,” I mutter. “Keep an eye on him. I don’t trust him. I wonder if his father has sent him to kill me.” I blow across the top of the cup, staring into my coffee.
She laughs, takes in the scowl etched across my face, and laughs harder. She leans in, whispering, “Men like Vittorio don’t look at you like he does unless they’re in love with you, and they don’t get jealous of the bodyguard unless they want you. Child, that man will burn the world down for you. All you need to do is ask. You just need to figure out how to come together.”
I frown. “What if he’s just a really good actor?”
“No one’s that good an actor.” She chuckles again. “Don’t write him off just yet.”
“He’s with someone else.” Her gaze softens.
“He’s not with you. Not yet anyway. Set the boundaries, form the relationship. Do the work. Relationships are like taking over the mafia.” She grins at me. “If you miss a step, it will all come crumbling down. Look at all the work you’re putting in to secure your footing. Relationships are no different. You wonder why all these mafia men’s wives have died. They didn’t put in the work. They didn’t create the foundation. They became, disposable. You need to put the effort in, or you’ll be just another statistic. Without trust, you’ll only have a dead ex six feet under.”
I nod, understanding that the marriages I’ve seen have been less than ideal. Arranged by necessity, tradition, and breeding. But never solidifying or enhancing the other.
Itake a minute to muse over my coffee while I toss around ideas on how to start getting to know Vittorio. How to bring us together. I want to be a queen. I want to be unstoppable and ruthless. But I also want someone who will back me. I want something unconditional. I know I need him. I just don’t want to admit that just yet. I push the stool back and slide my cup across the counter. I will contemplate everything Marianne has said, but now I need to take back my family legacy and destroy the Syndicate. I just wonder how on board Vittorio will really be when he hears my plans.
Luca and Matteo are waiting by the car as I make my way through the door and down the steps towards them. I wearily eye each of them. Matteo seems to find his fingernails extremely interesting. Imagine how interesting they’d be if we actually fucked. I haven’t seen Vittorio. I’m assuming he’s either locked himself in his room, or he’s with the other woman, or would I be the other woman? I sigh and head to the car. I slide in, and Luca sits beside me.
I make no issue that it’s normally Luca that drives, and maybe the tension isn’t all in my mind. But I tell Matteo where we’re going, and we head down the driveway. The drive to the office is silent, and when we pull up outside, Luca climbs out and Matteo opens my door for me. As I step out of the vehicle, I glare up at him.
“We good?” He nods. “Can you still do your job?” He nods once. I don’t linger, I don’t make this anymoreawkward than it is. I’m still a little sore and tight from the crash, and my bruised neck I wear like a badge of honour.
My low-cut blouse skims over my breasts, leaving the expanse of my chest on show. The fingerprints etched into my skin, black, purple, green, like a necklace, linger. My black trouser suit is neat and pressed, my gun tucked into the waistband; feeling the coolness of it gives me a calming sensation. I would never enter the viper’s den unarmed. I also have a smaller gun secured at my ankle, hidden under the fabric of my trousers.
I know they’ll find the gun when I’m searched on entry, the machine will pick it up as I walk through the metal detector, I’ll hand it in like a good little girl and then stride off with my little secret strapped to my ankle.
As I enter the lift, Matteo and Luca step in behind me, and we all turn to face the front. The awful music echoes around, and the lift bings on every floor. If I didn’t want to murder everyone before I got in here, I do now. This is excruciating. The door slides open, and Luca and Matteo step out, look both ways, and then Luca turns to me and nods. I step out onto the floor and head down the corridor to the conference room. They hold this meeting every month, and this is the first one since my father’s death.
As I push into the room, they’re all in there. Well, except the Costas. They sit like brooding assholes. Their faces a mix of resentment and disgust as I enter and take my father’s seat.
“This is a private meeting,” Massimo spits at me. There’s no love lost between us. Bellino is sitting to his left, and although his face remains stoic, his eyes reveal what he truly thinks about me. I know if anyone elseis going to come for me, it will be him. I need to make peace with Vittorio and find out everything I can.
I look around the table at the other men and their sons. My father brought me here on occasion, if mother was at one of her spa retreats, or when she’d died if the staff were too busy. I think he brought me here to flaunt me, to parade me like a show pony. To dangle in front of the fives families, dressing me up like a Stepford wife in the making. The perfect little baby maker, making me look just pretty enough to spark a little interest here and there from the sons and enough for the men to see me grow into something they’d want for their sons.
