Page 1 of Stroke of Luck

“You should leave now. It’s not safe to be here tonight, love,” I caution her as I stand up from my seat and walk towards Othello and the others.

“What? Why?” The alluring diamond in the rough demands, shooting to her feet.

It isn’t until I hear her terrified shriek that I look over my shoulder to see her feet disappear over the wall as she falls into the river.

“Fuck,” I growl as I bolt to the wall and look over the side, trying to see if I can spot her in the water. The stupid woman doesn’t even have on a jacket against the biting March air.

Who does that?

Unable to see any sign of her, I know that I’m going to have to go in after her. I shouldn’t have let her sit on the wall with how trashed she was, but I never would have guessed this would happen. I rip off my jacket, not willing to ruin good wool and cashmere, and kick off my shoes, tucking my glasses inside so they don’t get lost.

“Paolo! What the fuck are you doing?!” Giorgio calls as I climb up on the wall. “Oh hell no, you’re not jumping into the river. We can talk about this!”

I toss him a look over my shoulder. “I’m not trying to kill myself, idiot. A girl fell into the river, so I’m gonna go get her.”

Crossing myself like any good idiot with a death wish would, I leap into the water, pushing off the wall so I don’t crash into the side on my way down. The water is frigid as I land, taking my breath away for a moment, before I start to swim. The others gather at the wall, shining their phone lights—not that it helps much—as Othello watches with a scowl, his arms crossed. Our fearless leader, the mob boss of the Lastra family, will have my balls for doing this…well, he would if he can find them wherever they’ve tucked themselves up to.

I spot a flash of white in the water, and with a swift kick I dive under, reaching out and snagging her around the waist. I pull her to the surface, twisting her so her face is above water, then begin my search for an exit point out of the river.

Idiot! I should have checked where to go before I jumped in.

Though, let’s be honest, this whole situation is out of character for me. I’m not the typical self-sacrificing person—hell, none of us are. You don’t end up being in the top spots of the mob with a bleeding heart. We’ve turned our hearts to stone over the years, and only do things if it makes us money.

Nothing about this will get me a thing. Well, I might get laid for my heroic efforts, which I can work with. If we get out of this filthy fucking river alive!

“Dumbass, the ladder is over to the left.” Enzo points, proving to me that he loves me enough not to let me die frozen in the disgusting Chicago River.

Quickly as I can manage, I swim over to the ladder. Hauling an unconscious woman definitely makes things harder, and I know I dunk her under a few times along the way, but I can still feel her breathing against my arm.

“I better get some good bloody karma points for this,” I grumble as I grab onto the first rung of the ladder.

Remo meets me halfway when I almost drop her back into the river, grabbing her by the back of her t-shirt and tossing her over his shoulder. Then I get to watch his tight ass make its way up the ladder, making me feel a little better about the whole situation. If I could ever get the chance to have him own my ass, I would in a heartbeat… well, if Enzo agrees. According to the tattoo on my left ass cheek, I’m his, and that’s just the way I like it. Remo is a little too dark and murdery for me, but it makes him a perfect fit to be the lead enforcer in charge of all our soldiers.

Tossing my leg over the wall, I step sopping wet onto the sidewalk, the others glaring at me.

“We don’t have time to deal with this right now. Get in the car,” Othello barks, slipping into the limousine that’s waiting for us. “Bring the girl.”

Giorgio walks up to me and shoves me with his shoulder. “What do you think that’s about?”

“Giorgi, I don’t get paid enough to figure out the dark and mysterious workings of our boss,” I state as I grab my stuff from his arms and duck into the limo.

“No need to be rude. We all know he doesn’t like people coming back to the house…this is new.” Girogio muttered as he climbed in after me.

“Oh god, I think I’m dying…or dead... No, this is too painful to be dead,” I groan as I open my eyes to a stark white ceiling that definitely isn’t mine.

I would never allow my room to look so boring, even though my mother painted over my murals countless times. What she didn't understand was all that did was give me a fresh space to paint something she would hate even more. It was like a challenge— what new thing can I paint to piss Mother off?

Slowly, I sit up, bracing my palm against my forehead, trying to stop the pounding inside my skull. When I’m finally upright, my hair drifts over my shoulder, causing me to freeze in shock.

“What the fuck?!” I gasp as I pick up one of the white-blonde dreadlocks, twisting it between my fingers. “When the hell did this happen?”

Although, I have to admit—it’s totally badass, and I know Mother will hate it with every breath in her body.

Did I sneak out and go to a rave last night? It wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve ended up somewhere I shouldn’t be after one of those… but why would they do this to my hair?

Then I catch a glimpse of my arm that’s now magically covered in tattoos, from the back of my hand up to my shoulder. Not a section of skin is left that isn’t part of the artwork. It’s stunning, a mixture of black and grey with splashes of color. I somehow know that everything drawn on my arm tells a story, but I have no clue what that story could be.

I toss the blanket back and find that I’m in a large white button-down shirt with nothing underneath. Holy shit, please tell me I didn’t fuck around and get kidnapped like Father always warned could happen!