Page 7 of The Mobster’s Present

I left Oriana’s side on this chance. Now it’s failed before it really even got started.

My hands are shaking while I just allow some stranger to lead me who the fuck knows where. Just because he says he’s taking me to the office doesn’t mean it’s where we’re really going.

I’m not sure I want to find out what is waiting for me in the office anyway. Because if it’s not Romeo then who could be behind that door?

I mutter the question to myself without realizing I’m saying anything, “If Romeo isn’t in the office anymore, who is?”

The question I don’t ask is whether or not the person who now holds that office is a worse monster than Romeo was. It’s hard to imagine it, but what the fuck do I even know?

I’m shocked when the office door opens to reveal two women sprawled out watching the security feeds. Their eyes are trained on the door as if they’re expecting me, while wearing lounge clothes that probably cost more than the hospital bills I’m facing.

I freeze in place as I vaguely register the man’s fingers tightening slightly on my elbow, but I don’t look at him. My eyes are locked on the two women. The entire time I’ve been on this adventure, I’ve been terrified, but now I have no idea what to feel.

These women look kind, their eyes traipsing over me like they’re trying to figure me out without saying a word, but there’s a dangerous edge to them I can’t quite figure out.

“You’re looking for Romeo?” One of the women eyes me warily and for some reason I just know this woman knew him the same way I did. It’s the way her eyes flash with remembered darkness and pain; I know that look. Her tone takes on an edge of bewilderment, “Why in the world would you be looking for him?”

“I needed to discuss a private matter with him,” I pause and wince slightly, “but apparently he’s dead?”

“He is,” the same woman says with an ominous note in her voice along with a side of satisfaction I don’t understand. “Let’s start with introductions. I’m Dove, I’m Angelo’s wife.”

I stiffen with her words and my lips part with disbelief. Angelo’s wife? That makes her Oriana’s aunt. Before I can let those words slip, I swallow them down.

Dove points towards the other woman who waves in a display that is both endearing and completely out of place. “This is Oaklynn. She’s worshiped by the men who run the Volkov family.”

“Men?” My cheeks heat the moment the one-word question slips free.

“You don’t need to worry about what it means that she has men and, yes, multiple.” The man’s voice is low with a hint of warning. I look up at him and am momentarily snared by his dark gaze. “I’m Salvatore Ferrari, I’m Angelo’s right hand.”

He says his name with a weight to it, like he wants to ensure I remember it. As if I could ever forget a man like him. When he leads me deeper into the office and toward a loveseat, he helps me sit and then joins me without leaving any distance between us.

“Salvatore,” I whisper his name and something shifts in his eyes. For some reason, I can’t seem to look away. “My name is Ashleigh.” After clearing my throat, I force myself to look away from him and back toward Dove. “Romeo is really dead?”

“Yes,” she gives one decisive nod, “I killed him.”

I’m sure I look utterly ridiculous as I stare at her with my eyes wide and round and my mouth hanging open. I just can’t help it.

“You killed him?”

The smile that stretches across Dove’s face is pure sin and madness. “Yes,” she sighs like the memory of it is sweet, “I quite enjoyed doing it.”

“Good riddance,” Oaklynn pipes up and raises her glass that is filled with something bubbly.

“You never even met the man,” Dove admonishes.

“If you felt he deserved to die, that’s all I really need to know.” Oaklynn says it with such ease that I almost forget we’re talking about someone’s life.

Not just anyone’s life though, we’re talking about the biological father of my daughter. The man I came here to see in the hope that the medical bills don’t drown me.

“Ignore them,” Salvatore rumbles. When I look back up at him, I have to stop myself from leaning into his body. He’s so warm and solid, it makes me want to curl up on his lap. “Why were you looking for Romeo?”

I should be freaking out right now but between the way the women are talking as if Romeo’s death is no big deal, and the way Salvatore is looking at me, I find some of my worry ebbing. It makes no fucking sense.

Still a little dazed by the entire thing, I ignore Salvatore’s question and grouse, “Well, my trip to Seattle was useless.”

“You came here just to see Romeo?” Possession flashes in his dark eyes when I look up at him. It makes no sense, but I can’t be bothered to figure it out right now.

“Yes,” I gasp, my body doing something between shutting down and going on high alert, “I needed to see him.”