Felix
Iknew that Tessa had been watching me that night as I jacked off, my orgasm painting my abdomen like an artist. I also knew that she had ran back to her room and touched herself, not even bothering to stifle the sweet, sweet noises coming out of her mouth.
Tessa didn’t know that I had been picturing her as I fisted my cock. I had pictured her riding me while she dug her nails into my shoulders until they bled.
It was torture pretending I didn’t know she was standing there, to just keep fisting my cock to reach release. I wanted to throw her on the bed and show her just how quickly I could make her come, and how loud I could make her scream.
But I resisted. I couldn’t touch her; not yet. Not until it was time to get rid of her. I didn’t keep girls around for more than one night.
Every instinct screamed at me to cross that line, but I held back, letting the memory of her watching me burn in my mind instead.
For now I was forced to shove those memories of Tessa aside. Mafia business never waited. Calls to return, deals to manage, men to keep in line. I had to focus, even as every thought wanted to drift back to her.
I scowled, irritation coiling in my chest. Why did she have to be like this? A distraction I couldn’t afford, yet couldn’t stop thinking about. Every word, every glance, every stolen moment lingered, gnawing at me while I had work to do.
My friends were waiting. What Dino said had proved true, and it was something that had to be addressed immediately.
Every step toward the car was a battle. The image of her in the pantry flickered in my mind, the way her cheeks had been flushed, how she couldn’t stop staring. I clenched my jaw. Focus. Business first. Pleasure later.
By the time I pulled up to the usual spot, my irritation had grown, sharpened by the knowledge that my thoughts weren’t entirely on Dino’s warning. The guys were already there, leaning against cars, tossing cigarettes between them, and watching me approach with that knowing edge only men in my line of work had.
Ettore, Emilio, Vincenzo, and Rocco—my closest friends, and my brother—stood waiting. Each of them looked calm, but I knew better. I could smell the tension a mile away. I walked past the cars, forcing my mind to focus, to shove thoughts of Tessa down, and met their eyes.
“What’s this meeting about?” Ettore, the Don, asked.
I cleared my throat, forcing the edge of irritation and distraction from my voice. “Someone’s been skimming money from the businesses,” I said, letting the words land heavy between us.
A flicker of surprise crossed Emilio’s face, though he quickly masked it. Vincenzo’s jaw tightened. Rocco’s eyes, sharp and calculating as ever, narrowed slightly, and even Ettore’s calm demeanor held a trace of tension.
“Dino noticed discrepancies in the accounts,” I continued.
Ettore gave a slight nod. “Of course he did,” he said, his tone calm but approving. “That man has eyes everywhere. Which ones?”
I gave him a list. It wasn’t every business we owned. I hadn’t been able to connect a pattern to the discrepancies yet, and that gnawed at me. Each location was a potential leak, and until I found the thread linking them, I had no idea how deep this went.
Ettore listened carefully, his gaze unwavering. Emilio and Vincenzo exchanged quick glances, Rocco’s arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, silent but alert. The room felt tight with tension, every man aware that any misstep could be costly.
“So, what’s your plan?” Ettore asked, assessing me.
“Have Rocco take a look at the books, too.” I was almost certain I had caught everything. But in this business, one had to be thorough. Measure twice, cut once.
Rocco nodded silently, already pulling a small notebook from his jacket, eyes scanning with that unnerving twin precision.
“I’m going to follow a few leads,” I continued. “And I need you guys to keep an eye out for anything that looks suspicious.”
Ettore’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, unreadable but firm. His jaw was tight, eyes sharp with anger that didn’t need words. “Good. Let’s get this taken care of as soon as possible,” he said, each syllable carrying the weight of how furious he was that money had been lost.
I nodded, keeping my expression neutral, forcing my focus on the work ahead. The tension in the room was thick, the kind that reminded everyone why mistakes in this business were deadly. Every detail mattered. Every lead had to be followed.
With a final glance at Ettore, I stepped back, letting the others move into position. The air was heavy with urgency, the unspoken understanding that failure wasn’t an option.
I pushed open the door and stepped into the streets, the night pressing around me, sharp and dangerous, every sense alert, ready for whatever this job would demand.
It was late when I got home, but I was wide awake. The streets were quiet, the city hushed under the weight of night, but my mind wouldn’t let me rest. Every step through the apartment felt heavy, deliberate, like the silence was pressing in.
I felt it in every fiber of me—muscles taut, coiled like springs ready to snap. My shoulders were rigid, arms tight at my sides, hands curled into fists almost without realizing it. Even standing still, my back and legs were wound tight, as if the day’s stress, the crew’s scrutiny, and the gnawing pressure of the missing money had embedded themselves into my very bones. Every exhale was sharp, deliberate, trying to ease the tension that refused to loosen.
I couldn’t stay still. The brownstone felt too quiet, the shadows pressing in from the corners, and the tension in my body refused to ease. Every muscle was coiled, tight as steel, from my neck down to my calves. I ran a hand over my jaw, clenched so hard it ached, and flexed my shoulders, trying to shake off the weight that seemed to settle in my bones.
