Page 20 of Auctioned To Her Dad's Mafia Enemies

His eyes flick over my face, and then, to myshock, he reaches out, fingertips brushing against my hair, smoothing it awayfrom my damp forehead. It’s such a small, unexpectedly gentle gesture that Ifreeze completely.

“I used to have nightmares,” he says, hisvoice low, almost thoughtful. “When I was a kid. My mother used to sit with meuntil they passed.”

I stare at him, still caught between fear andsomething else, something softer.

Antonio’s mother.

I remember her. When I knew her, she was asweet woman who didn’t say much but smiled a lot. She was proud of her sons andher daughter was the light of her life. I wonder what she’d think of them now,tying up a helpless woman and sending her pictures into the world like a maggoton a hook.

Would she be proud that they’re set onavenging their brother? Would she respect the means they were taking?

Women in this underground world play mixedroles. Ambivalence is common. They ignore their husbands’ criminal activities,sometimes even their infidelity. Sometimes, they’re open in their support andvicious in their attitudes. I can’t imagine marrying into this world. I thinkof the sweet all-American boys I grew up with, and how distant that life feelsto me now. Even when I was there, living an ordinary life—trips to the mallwith friends, going to the movies, bowling, working shitty low paid jobs—I feltlike a fish out of water.

In the dim glow of the bedside lamp, Antoniodoesn’t look like a bad man. It’s not that he’s kind—none of them are. But hedoesn’t gloat, doesn’t sneer, doesn’t treat me like a problem to be solved or aprize to be bartered. He justwatches me.He looks... human. And somehow, that unsettles me more than anything.

“What kind of nightmares?” I ask, my voicequieter now, afraid speaking too loudly will shatter this strange momentbetween us.

His fingers pause in my hair. He exhalesslowly, as if debating whether to answer.

“Monsters,” he finally says.

A humorless laugh escapes me. “And now youareone.”

His gaze sharpens, but he doesn’t deny it. “Maybe.”A beat of silence, then: “But monsters don’t comfort scared little girls in thedark.”

I don’t know why that sentence makes somethingache in my chest.

I turn my head slightly, just enough to seehis face more clearly. There's a softness in his expression,a quiet understanding, like he knows whatit’s like to wake up drowning in fear. Like he recognizes something in me thathe doesn’t want to name, the same as I’m starting to with him. His eyes are solight grey that it gives him an otherworldly air that makes it harder for me toread him, but staring into them makes me lose myself just a little.

I should push his hand away. I should tell himI don’t need his comfort, that I don’twantit.

But instead, I let him stroke my hair, let thewarmth of his palm against my temple lull me back down from the edge of panic.

He doesn’t say anything else.

And somehow, it’s enough.

8

ALEXIS

FIND SOMEONE TO LOVE

“Miobello.” Mama reaches out to embrace me, pulling me into her warm, softarms. I stoop to wrap my arms around her, inhaling her familiar scent ofjasmine and tomatoes.

“Mama.” I kiss her cheek a little too hard,just how she likes it, and she cups my face with her rough hands, looking meover like she has the power to weigh the value of my soul. I don’t know how shedoes it, but she always knows when something is wrong.

“Why have you and your brothers been stayingat thatpostostupido?”

She hates it when we use the city penthouserather than staying at our estate. I guess she’s lonely now Rosita’s marriedand on her honeymoon. The last of her babies to fly the nest.

“We have business.”

“You always have business.” She pinches mycheek hard.

“Important business.”

She turns to lead me to the kitchen. Food isalways the priority in this house, and she won’t be happy until she’s fed me. “Youcan tell me,” she tosses over her shoulder, “or I can find out fromilpettegolezzo.”

---