Page 278 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

I haven’t had much time to think since I’ve basically been running from one maiming to the next since I left the Grammercy Tap Room the night before. Doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for planning my next move.

And now that I have her here…now that my leverage is lying on a couch in my office, fearful that I’m about to end not only her life, but Frankie’s, all I can think about is burying my head between her legs and feasting on her soft pussy.

Which is exactly what I wanted to do from the second I knocked into her at the bar last night.

Fuck! I need to concentrate on more than just getting off right now!

I can’t keep avoiding her question. She’s rolled onto her side, her long ponytail snaking over her shoulder as she stares at me, an unspoken plea for mercy in her gaze. “He gets one shot,” I grunt, shoving back the chair and standing straight up. My mouth twists as I send the chair crashing into the desk.

“And what will you do with me in the meantime?” she asks. I can tell she’s trying to keep her voice even and strong, but I hear the waver she tries desperately to hide. And I get it. I’m a brutal killer and I shot her with a tranquilizer gun so I could kidnap her and possibly murder her.

If I were her, I’d be shitting a brick, too.

But there’s already been too much blood spilled. My family name can’t be stained with any more, not on my watch.

I need to assert my control in another way and Marchella is going to help me.

And her question ignites fierce flames of desire deep inside of me because while there are endless possibilities for what I’d like to do with her in the meantime, I can’t give into a single one of them. My priority is getting the organization back on track after that ambush, not obsessing about a hot piece of ass who just so happens to be lying on my couch in tight black Spandex.

My cell phone pings, and I pull it out of my pocket, peering at the screen. My eyes burn from lack of sleep and I blink fast to clear my vision.

Where the fuck are you?

Dante. That’s his way of expressing concern.

I send a reply.Still at the office. Don’t wait on me for dinner.

You work too hard. And you need to eat.

I roll my eyes. Food. There’s a luxury I can’t seem to squeeze into my day.

Order extra pizza. I’ll have some later.

In a few seconds, he sends a reply.

Okay. And bring home some Jack Daniel’s. You’re out.

Freaking lush drank me dry already?

I shove my phone back into my pocket. When I finally do get home tonight, there will definitely be a lot to explain to my brother. He comes to New York to escape his own slice of hell, and now I’m about to plunge him into a different one.

None of us could escape the shit show that choked us in Sicily, and my whole family still carries that hate for the Amante family even though we came out on top.

A strangled sob jolts me from my inner turmoil and I look over at the couch. Chella’s eyes are closed, but I can see a single tear slip down one flushed cheek. “I told him to find legitimate work, something that would keep him out of trouble. But he didn’t listen. He said he could make good money, that we would be taken care of.” Her eyes float open and she slowly sits up, gripping the arm of the couch for balance. A dejected expression shadows her face as she pins me with her rage-filled gaze. “That was alwaysmyplan. To take care of us, since my father gave up on that responsibility a long time ago.”

Jesus Christ, when did this turn into a therapy session? Do I look like a goddamn shrink?

But I remain silent, letting her continue her tirade since I need time to process all of this shit anyway.

“Mama was gone so everything fell on me. And that was fine!” she says, her voice shaking. “I didn’t mind because I had goals for myself and my life! I was going places!” She digs her fingertips into the leather, her knuckles turning white. “I had a plan, Roman. A fucking life and it was finally headed in the right direction! I worked goddamn hard for it, too. And then everything went up in smoke.”

“Wait, what about your mother?” I ask.

Chella’s face darkens. “She died six months ago. Cancer.”

I swallow hard. Fuck. “I didn’t know,” I mutter. “I’m sorry.”

“It devastated me. All of us. And everything unraveled like a cheap rug once she passed.” Chella moves to the edge of the couch, pushing herself off of it and rising to her feet on wobbly legs. “I’m so tired…of feeling…helpless and alone!” she rasps. “Tired of working…my ass off at some dead-end job, living paycheck to paycheck…to pay off our family’s debts and medical bills and not able to enjoy…a single fucking penny of my hard work!” She inches toward me, grabbing onto everything she can to keep her from crumbling onto the floor in front of me. “And just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, I get fucking sexually assaulted in the park by my childhood crush, and then kidnapped by him because my idiot brother can’t keep his hands to himself! Because he’s always looking for an easy way out, but there isn’t one! Not for us!” she screams, seeming to use every last bit of strength in her to force out those words. Her chest heaves harder with each labored breath as she sways into a chair. “Things were so perfect in Sicily. So much…hope. And then it went up in smoke. And you didn’t stop it…or me. I…hate…you!” Tears spring to her eyes once again as she takes her final step toward me. And just as she swings her fist out to hit me, her legs give out and she collapses against my chest, wilting in my arms like a dying flower.

---