Page 22 of Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss
She’d be happier with someone like him—ifI cared about her happiness. I’m twenty years older than her, and if I were a less confident man, I might not believe I had anything to offer her.
But I know exactly who I am.
My brothers are too soft. They haven’t earned their title of bloodthirsty killers yet. They roll over too easily during a fight. I have them do easier jobs or clean up my mess. And I have a feeling Delilah likes a challenge; she doesn’t want someone who will just give in.
She wants a fight.
She likes the resistance she finds with me.
“I’ll take her out, brother. I’ll show her a nice time. Don’t worry. I won’t put my baby in her unless she asks for it.”
My temper snaps. Hot rage burns me from the inside out. I spin around and roar, throwing my glass across the room. The glass shatters against the wall, and I remember I’ve done this twice today.
Has it only been a fucking day since Delilah came into my life? Already I feel like I’m losing control over myself.
I stomp forward and pick my baby brother up by his collar. Ari looks smug as if he won, and Matias stands to act as mediator.
“You won’t fucking touch her, Ari.”
“Why not?” he probes, and I push him against the bookshelf. “You only want her for business. What if I want her for more? What if I saw her wearing your shirt and saw those mile-long legs? I bet they would look good spread out on my bed, Carmine.”
I thrust him against the shelf, knocking a few books to the floor, then throw him down to join him. I draw back my fist in the air, then let it fly punching him in the face. Knuckles meet skin, and he is still smiling like a sick bastard despite the
blood flowing into his mouth staining his teeth red.
Matias tackles me to the ground, and I fight against him. My usually styled hair falls into my face. My knuckles are bleeding, my heart is jackhammering in my chest, and my anger has only reached the surface.
I’m far from being done.
I rip myself free of Matias and lunge forward again, only to have Matias stop me before I beat his twin to death.
Ari is sitting up, his back against the shelf and he rips a page out of a book to use as a napkin to wipe the blood from his lip.
“Talk about her like that again and I’ll fucking kill you, Ari.” I pull myself away from Matias and rub a hand over my mouth while Ari chuckles.
“I’m right,” he says, red saliva dripping from his chin. “You like her.”
“All this to prove a point?” I stretch my fingers as the ache spreads across my knuckles.
He stands and spits blood onto the floor. His lip is split open, and he has a bruise across his cheek. “Yes, all this to prove a point. You won’t let anyone else touch her, but you say she’s only business? Transactions don’t have feelings, Carmine. If she makes you feel this unhinged, she isn’t business. She’s more.”
“I’ve known her a day.”
“As if that matters,” he scoffs, snagging the decanter full of whiskey as he swings open the door to leave. “I’m going to get some ice and get drunk. Don’t interrupt me,” he announces, keeping the door wide open.
“You need to get your head on straight.” Matias shoves me with his shoulder. “Whatever this girl is to you, figure it the fuck out. The last thing we need with our Romano issue is you losing your mind over a woman. You can’t afford to even look like you have a weakness.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“No,” he says, a little too honest for my liking, and my eyes turn to slits as I look at him. “I think some of the power has gone to your head, and now you have something worth taking, Carmine. Do you get that? This woman will be your wife, the mother of your child, and she will be a target. Your child will too. This situation doesn’t only complicate things for you, but all of us.” Matias exits the room next, and I’m left alone in the cigar room, staring at the destruction I’ve caused.
“Damn it,” I hiss, kicking one of the fallen books across the floor. “What’s gotten into me?” My brothers are right. I am quickly becoming unhinged.
It’s time to fix that.
I leave the cigar room, climbing up the steps to the hallway that leads to my wing. When I open the door to my room, it’s empty. She isn’t in bed, and after I check the bathroom, she isn’t there either.
Needing a break from her presence, I see having the room to myself as a victory. Exhaling, I fall against the sink’s counter and hang my head, the cuts on my knuckles burning. Cracking my neck, I push myself away, turn on the shower, then undress.
