Page 409 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

My stomach rumbles again and Aisling’s even breathing tells me that she’s dozed off.

I wonder what was in those bags…

Tommy Marcone?Really?

There was so much scrumptiousness just beyond my fingertips and I screwed it up.

What’s worse than shutting down is cutting someone off when they peg you exactly right.

And damn, did he peg me.

I also am not stupid. It’s clear that he’s hanging around at the request of Matteo. The guy doesn’t trust me at all. I get it. He’s got a lot at stake on a daily basis, and bringing a virtual stranger into his home doesn’t give him a warm and fuzzy.

Rightly so, considering Uncle Boris had some in at the agency and was able to pull strings to get my bullshit resume sent directly to the Villanis. That’s why Dante is here. He’s watching me, making sure I don’t act out of line. I’m actually shocked they left me here alone with the baby when Dante was getting dinner. It also makes me wonder who else is watching…and from where.

I already know what Dante would do to protect Aisling. He basically told me he has no limits when it comes to his family.

I dip my head down and inhale deeply, letting Aisling’s sweet scent fill my lungs. It’s weird, but it calms me. Makes me feel like I’m in the right place…for all of the wrong reasons, of course.

I rock her for a few more minutes, fuzzy fantasies about what kind of feast I missed out on looping through my mind. I haven’t eaten a damn thing today, and this was my big chance to sink my teeth into a gourmet meal made by my cooking idol.

But I blew it because I couldn’t handle that someone else could see my truth.

As my eyes drift closed, one final thought takes hold of my sleepy brain, refusing to let go.

Where the fuck is Uncle Boris?

CHAPTER14

ANYA

Crack! Bang! Pop!

My throat is so tight, I can barely breathe as I stare at the man splayed across the dirty tile floor.

Three shots, right to the chest.

I sneak a look up at my uncle and he glares at me. Instead of giving me the approval I so desperately crave, he grimaces. “You hesitated,” he says in a cold voice. “You gave him the opportunity to grab his gun and shoot you in the fucking head!”

I bristle at his tone. What the hell does he expect from me? I’m an eighteen-year-old kid! I should be hanging out with friends, reading books, watching silly movies, and dating boys — not killing gross and disgusting men like the one at my feet.

All because he double-crossed my uncle.

I mean, yeah, I owe my uncle a lot.

Everything, actually.

But when do I get a say in how the rest of my life is going to unfold?

Will I ever?

“I did,” I say, my voice unwavering. “I can’t help it. I keep seeing my parents’ faces right before I pull the trigger.”

“Change what you see in that moment,” he seethes, narrowing his glassy blue eyes at me and backing me against the wall. “Imagine the faces of the fucking men who killed your parents!” he bellows. “That should make you furious and anxious to squeeze the trigger! Revenge, Anya! It’s always about revenge!”

His words pelt me like sharp rocks that slice into my flesh. My pulse throbs against my neck, my breaths growing more and more labored as the tension-filled seconds tick by. I try to suck down oxygen, but an icy noose loops around my neck, making it impossible to fill my lungs.

“Uncle Boris, lay off,” Maks grunts as he walks into the room and surveys the scene. “She got him, didn’t she?”

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