Page 17 of Dangerous Games

“You told me you gave her the money.”

“I did.”

“Then do you care to explain to me why I got a text this morning asking if it was okay if she pays rent late this month?”

What the fuck.

“I left the money on her table. I don’t know what happened after that. You gave me a no-contact order outside of doing the drops,” I remind him.

That no-contact order is ending tonight because I’m figuring out what the fuck is going on whether she likes it or not.

“Did you tell her it’s okay?”

“Of course.” Matteo looks insulted. “She’s never been late before, and I don’t need to give her a reason to cause us any more unnecessary headaches thanks to you.”

“I’ll feel her out and try to see what’s going on.”

“You’re not going to do anything,” Matteo orders. “We’ll see if she pays it by the date I gave her. If she doesn’t, Enzo will deal with her.”

I stiffen.

Arguing with him right now isn’t going to get me anywhere. I take another sip of my drink to occupy my mouth and ease the tension that’s wound tight in my body. My lips are feeling like they’re about to get real loosey goosey.

“Dinner’s ready!” Ma calls from the dining room. “Everyone, come eat!”

Matteo gives me a hard look as I pass him. I know he’s watching me and, like usual, I don’t give a fuck.

The pizzeria closes early on Sundays, leaving me alone as I finish things up in the office. I hate being in this fucking room. It’s small and feels like a jail cell.

Just as I slam the desk drawer closed after pulling out a cigar, the monitor that has the footage rolling of the security cameras in the alley beeps, signaling movement.

I zoom in until I’m looking at the same man from yesterday.

“What is going on with you, Bronwyn?” I mumble as I lock in on him.

This time the man doesn’t pace or seem nervous. No, he seems downright thrilled as he climbs the steps to her place two at a time.

Is this her boyfriend?

My fist clenches the cigar in my hand at the thought of her being with another man, snapping it in half. Tobacco flakes litter my lap and desk.

“Goddamnit,” I grumble as I brush it off me and onto the floor, not wanting it to ruin my suit. By the time I look up, the man is gone. “Fuck.”

He’s inside.

With restraint I didn’t know I possessed, I lean back in my chair and wait. My attention is locked on the screen even as I bring the remaining sliver of cigar to my lips. He doesn’t leave me waiting long, which I don’t know if I should be happy or pissed about. He couldn’t have been in her apartment for more than five minutes. I lean forward in my seat as I zoom in on the frame as he descends the stairs.

He’s older than Bronwyn. Too old to be a sibling.

If she’s doing some shady shit she has no business doing, I’m going to bend her over my knee and spank her ass raw. Fuck Matteo’s rule. He’ll understand. He, of all people, should get where I’m coming from with this infatuation.

By the time he’s out of view in the frame, I’m halfway out the door, the resistance I possessed moments ago out the window.

“Open up, Bronwyn!” I yell as I pound on her door, not letting up until I have a pissed-off woman glaring at me.

“What the fuck is your problem?” she demands.

I crowd her space until she has no choice but to step aside and let me in.