Page 18 of Runaway in the Mafia
“Ahana, can I come in?”
“No!” I jerked to my knees, my laptop falling off my lap onto the bed. My nerves were skittish as I worked my throat to make sense out of the jumble in my brain. “I’m getting dressed and…”And what?My skin tingled under a hot gaze. “I’ll come out when I’m ready.”
“Okay. No rush. I thought we could go to the market together. You’ll love it.”
“Sure.” My enthusiasm was high-pitched. “I’ll be right there.” I didn’t even want to know what Lia’s reaction would be if she saw her brother. In my room.
The brother who had his obsessed gaze pasted to my lips like he was counting the lines on them or tracing them with his own.
I should have fled this room the moment he had stepped in. I didn’t even wait for her footsteps to fade before I jumped off the bed. I was a mess. Uncoordinated. Made me get off on the wrong side. Landing from the hot pan to the fire. Now I’d have to walk past him. A wicked grin touched his lips, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. Longing hit my chest as I looked at the other side of the bed. No. That would be childish. If I could flee from Rajesh, I could definitely do this. I gritted my teeth and moved to pass him. Eating up the distance between us one step at a time. Two. Three. I was at the edge of his chair. I rushed past four, and I’d passed him. It was like he waited for the sigh of relief to fall before his hand circled my wrist. Firm but soft. His rough thumb traced my speeding pulse, and heat rushed up to my hitched breath. “Until next time, roommate.”
CHAPTER NINE
VITALE
“Non ci si può fidare di Gino.”
I strolled into the kitchen to Mamma’s lamenting. One of the few things that Mamma loved was to lament. But then again, so did all the Mammas in Sicily.
Sergio’s annoyed glance from across the table told me I shouldn’t ask. So I didn’t. Walking over to the espresso machine set in the corner against the window, I switched it on to drown out her voice. Didn’t want to know why she couldn’t rely on Gino, didn’t care. I had a million things to do. Like sign a marriage contract to keep the Albanians off my back.
“Non chiede mai niente. L'unica cosa che mi ha chiesto, non riesco a farla.”
My ears perked up just as the grinding of the beans stopped. Well, who never asked for anything? Not Lia. She was full of wants, like any spoilt brat. I want this, I want that. Lazily with the espresso in my hand, I turned to find Mamma banging a pot angrily on the stove with her back to me. I cocked my brow atSergio, but he only shrugged his shoulders with a wicked grin.Oh, he knows.
“Who didn’t ask for anything, Mamma?”
Another pot banged on the stove before she turned around. “Ahana.”
Bingo.Just what I’d thought. What did the runaway girl want? I leaned my hip on the small table behind me and carried a nonchalance I didn’t feel. “So, what couldn’t you get done for her?”
“Nothing. I don’t want to bother you with my problems.” The aluminium foil she was rustling to put on her tray grated on my nerves as much as her words. Why was she asking her cousin’s son to do things for her when she had her own?
“Ridicolo.Now tell me what the problem is so I can fix it.”
“She just wants a lock on her door—” I almost choked on my espresso, “And Gino said he’ll do it, but two days have passed and he’s nowhere to be seen. I have half a mind to pull his ear and drag him to his mamma. You know, I cleaned his shit when he was small,vero? You’d think there was some kind of gratefulness.”
So, the runaway girl wanted to shut down my new addiction. Her. On a bed.
“Why does she want a lock?”
Sergio’s tone was wicked. I turned to find him mouthing, ‘what did you do’ to me. I scowled. None of his fucking business.
Mamma almost growled from behind the counter. “I’m telling Fiorella that her only son is an idiot. I told her she shouldn’t eat pineapple when she was pregnant.” Her glare made Sergio squirm with unease. Only Mamma could get a thirty-year-old underboss nervous.
“LeaveZiaFiorella out of it, Mamma.”
“Well, what else am I to do?Idiota.” She banged the tray down. “Only an idiot would want to know why she would want alock.” My neck burned. Had she told Mamma? “If she feels more comfortable with a lock on her door, I’m not going to be the one to argue.”Such a good girl. My runaway girl.
I stepped away from the table with my empty cup in my hand. “I’ll take care of it.”
She sighed heavily. “I don’t want to bother you with little things,figlio mio.”
Oh, this wasn’t little. Walking to the counter, I dropped the cup next to her. “Nothing little about it if she wants to feel safe. It’ll be done within the hour.”
It took me fifteen minutes to have the locksmith in the house. I didn’t even have to threaten the man, but I guess he took it as a threat when I called him. Fifteen minutes later, he stood in my library, out of breath and with tools jiggling in his hands.
I kept him trembling on his toes for another fifteen. He assumed I was mad at him. Not my problem. His. I was merely biding my time until the runaway girl went down for lunch.
