Page 297 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

She spins around, holding up a finger. “No, don’t call me that. We’re not friends. Only my friends call me that.”

“I don’t want to be your enemy,” I say, stepping forward and risking Bella’s wrath. “I never did.”

“You created this situation, Roman.” She sniffles. “You don’t get to choose how I feel about you!”

“I’m trying to do my?—”

“Your job,” she snips. “Yeah, yeah. I know all about it. Your loyalty. Sorry to pile on more work for you.”

“You know, I did a very nice fucking thing when I went to get that mutt off the streets.”

“Yeah, it was nice,” she says. “And what was your motive, huh? Because let’s face it, guys like you always have one.”

“I didn’t have an agenda,” I grunt. “I didn’t need to go into that shithole neighborhood and get my goddamn car busted up! I went to do a nice thing!”

Her brow furrows. “Your car got busted up?”

I lean against the wall. “Yeah. Some guys broke into it and stole my stereo. They were about to steal my battery and rims, too, before the cops showed up.”

She lets out a chuckle. “Serves you right. Ever hear of karma?”

“Trust me, if that’s the worst to even blow back on me, I’ll consider myself damn lucky,” I mumble. I sigh, pushing away from the wall. “And now that you’ve had some fun at my expense, I’m going back to bed. Next time I’ll know to stay the fuck out.”

My eyes flit over her lithe body, covered only by a thin white t-shirt she must have found in one of my drawers. I wonder if she’s wearing panties, but the t-shirt is long enough that I can’t tell.

I only came in here to check on her because she was upset, and now she’s got my dick in a complete twist. How the hell am I supposed to sleep now?

I want to say something else. I want to tell her why I really went back for Bella. I want to tell her that even though I’m holding her captive, I’ve never been as turned on by a woman as I am by her.

But the walls surrounding her are too high and thick to scale.

It ain’t worth it.

This is the life I chose, and they don’t come with happy endings.

At least, not in the literal sense.

It’s why I had to ignore my feelings for her in the first place.

I don’t bother to say goodnight. I just square my shoulders and walk out, trying to maintain some degree of dignity.

I fist the sides of my head and stalk toward the kitchen. I pull open the refrigerator door since I didn’t eat either. I don’t know why I had to pull that power play bullshit with her before. Was it because I didn’t want her attention on anything but me?

I could have let her call Frankie. I could have been a decent guy.

But then I wouldn’t be me.

I scan the contents of the refrigerator, and the meal Marchella was planning sounds a lot better than what I know I can do with the same ingredients. Besides, my stomach is knotted like a pretzel right now.

I opt for a beer and collapse onto the sofa, facing the window. I don’t bother with any lights. I just stare out into the night sky. It looks and feels heavy and thick since there are no stars twinkling back at me.

Then again, what’d I expect? This is Manhattan.

I take a swig from the beer bottle, setting it down on the table in front of me. I rest my head against the back of the couch and let my eyes drift closed. A soft pattering across the floor makes me jump a few minutes later.

“Hey,” Marchella says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hey,” I reply shortly, my jaw tight. This time, I don’t let my eyes wander. I keep them focused on hers.

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