Wanted: A Dark Italian Mafia Romance (Men Of Mayhem Book 1)

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Wanted: A Dark Italian Mafia Romance (Men Of Mayhem Book 1) Page 11

by Kristen Luciani


  “Jackie Anzelone.” Diego smirks. “Yeah, that guy’s a fucking tool, alright.”

  “Papa taught me plenty when he had the chance. When he realized his time was limited.” I rub the knot at the base of my neck. “I won’t give it up. I have to take control and keep the enemies out of our territories. And I need to keep up the work of my foundation. This will be my purpose, guys. My own legacy.”

  Vince sinks into his chair and lets out a groan. “Jesus, your father told me months ago taming you would be impossible. I finally get it.”

  “I don’t know, some people like that kind of a challenge,” Diego murmurs to me under his breath, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

  Delicious and potentially salacious mischief.

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, Diego,” Vince says, glaring at his brother.

  “Oh no, I definitely want you to replay it in your head. And then come up with some mental pictures to go along with it.”

  I tap the side of my face, an uncomfortable feeling settling deep in the pit of my stomach.

  Jackie Anzelone.

  The name alone makes my skin crawl, but I need to talk to him and tell him what’s happened if he hasn’t already seen the news. I know Papa told me not to let anyone know I was joining him on this trip, but he never said whether or not he told Jackie.

  As my father’s second-in-command, he should know all, but he’s not exactly the most reliable or discreet person on my father’s payroll.

  Actually, that’s kind of a gross understatement. If I’m being honest, Jackie is completely useless. The guy cares more about dipping his wick into the STD-infested pool of women who get passed around as goomahs, than preserving the family.

  Jackie also doesn’t have any inclination to help anyone but himself. He likes the status quo and doesn’t want to be bothered by turf wars. He wants to enjoy his life, collect his money, and drive his fancy ass cars. If he has to plug a guy here and there to keep his existence intact, he’s happy as hell to pull the trigger.

  He’s just too stupid to realize that if he doesn’t get his hands dirty now, life as he loves it will end. It’s what happens when you get comfortable, when you think you’re too powerful and too strong to fall prey to the enemy.

  It’s no surprise that Jackie and I hate each other, not when there are so many risks to our family looming, and he’s more concerned about who’s going to be on her knees sucking his dick than tightening control.

  Maybe if the asshole had done his job and formed alliances with families who’d actually support our efforts, we wouldn’t be here in Sicily right now. I wouldn’t be on the run. And Papa…

  I swallow hard, not wanting the thought to percolate.

  Things would just be…different.

  Jackie doesn’t want his apple cart upset at all by our plans to end sex trafficking. He knows what he stands to lose if the other families revolt. Hell, it would be bad for all of us, but as far as Papa and I are concerned, it’s worth the risk.

  I scrub a hand down the front of my face. “I need to call Jackie. Maybe he knows something. Maybe he’s heard from Papa.”

  Vince lets out a sigh. “Call him. See if he has any information. But don’t get any brilliant ideas about leaving. Not yet. We need to lay low for a little while. All of us.”

  I follow Diego out of the office, and once we’re down the hallway tucked into another quiet room, he hands me his phone. “I’ll just wait out—"

  “No,” I say. “Please stay?”

  Diego nods without a word and folds his arms, reclining against the closed door.

  I swallow hard past the lump in my throat and dial, blinking back tears when I get Papa’s voicemail again. I had to try once more.

  Just breathe, Serena. Breathe, dammit! You don’t know anything! Stop thinking the worst!

  I click to end the call, giving my head a little shake. Thinking the worst is rapidly becoming synonymous with reality.

  “No answer from your father?”

  “Voicemail,” I rasp, swiping at the stray tear that runs down my cheek.

  Diego walks over to me and drapes his arm around my shoulders before sinking down onto the couch. “It’s okay to let it out.”

  I shake my head. “No, it’s not. Because the second I give in to the tears, I’ll know in my heart he’s really gone. And even though I might be deluding myself, I don’t want to admit it to myself. There’s no reason to cry, right?” I whisper, forcing a smile. “No news is good news and all that crap?”

  His dark eyes bore into me, making my breath hitch. Glimmering gold flecks glow in the depths, warming my insides when I stare for a second too long. Mesmerizing. That’s the best word I can come up with to describe the effect his heavy and heated gaze has on me.

  And my entire body.

  I can’t even believe I let the thought cross my mind when I should be focusing on survival.

  “You’re stronger than that. A fighter. They can’t break you. Nothing can,” he murmurs, stroking the side of my face.

  “You sound pretty confident about that,” I say, choking back a tiny sob. I force it back where it came from because I desperately want to be the girl he just described.

  It’s whom I have to be.

  Only that girl can overcome this, not her hot mess of an alter ego.

  “I’m a pretty good judge of character.” He smiles. “Besides, any daughter of Franco Vitale would be born a badass. It’s in the blood.”

  I giggle-cough and then sniffle. “I wish I saw myself the way you do.”

  “I don’t know if you’re ready for that.” A mischievous look settles into his features. “So be careful what you wish for…”

  My eyes widen, my jaw damn-near hitting the floor.

  He shrugs, a lazy grin stretching his lips. “Sorry. I’m still a guy underneath it all.”

  A hot flush creeps up into my cheeks, igniting the tiny embers that flicker in the pit of my belly. My heart thumps, my mouth bone-dry.

  Did he just tell me what I think he just told me?

  His half-hooded gaze pretty much confirms it.

  Jesus, this whole life or death thing really messes with the libido, I guess.

  I know what kind of sensations are flooding my veins right now, and from the looks of it, Diego is exactly on the same page.

  Of a potentially salacious story.

  I look at the phone clutched in my hand. “I, um, I’m going to, ah, call Johnny now. Er, I mean Jackie!” My fingers tremble slightly as I stab his number into the keypad. My face twists into a grimace when he answers, and all of the carnal urges I had only moments earlier have been completely diluted by his arrogant voice. “Jackie,” I say.

  “Principessa!” he says in a booming voice. “Well, well, well. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call? Are you already bored of sunbathing?”

  “Save it, Jackie. I’m not in Capri.”

  “What do you mean? Where are you?”

  “I’m in Sicily. With Papa. Someone put a hit on both of us. I was almost gunned down in a café and there was a shooter at our hotel this morning.” I let out a shuddering sigh. “Papa is missing, and I can’t get through to him.”

  “Serena, that is horrible news! I had no idea!”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I know. Are you seriously telling me that you didn’t know about the shooting? They’ve mentioned Papa. It’s been all over the news!”

  What I really want to ask him is if there’s a dirty skank between his legs who’s taking up all of his attention when it should be focused on things like making sure his boss is alive!

  “No, no, Serena. I did not know. Let me turn on the news right now.” A few seconds later, he makes a tsk-tsk noise. God, I want to punch him so badly! “This is bad. Very bad. They say the gunman is still on the loose.”

  “Yeah. So I guess you haven’t heard from Papa then?”

  “No, not today. I expected him to call after his meeting with the Marcones. I knew going to Palermo
would be a bad move, and I told him so. There are too many angry families, too much resentment. Just by going, he made himself a target.”

  I furrow my brow. He knew about the meeting? But Papa didn’t invite him on the trip…

  I rub a hand over my face. I’m so freaking tired, I can’t think straight right now.

  “Serena,” Jackie says. “I’ve told your father many times that the foundation puts you both at risk, that people don’t like the work you’re both doing to stop such a big business.”

  “Jackie, it’s stripping human rights from women! Stop using the word business! It makes me fucking sick to my stomach!”

  “You’re so naïve, Serena. Your Papa always gave you everything you ever wanted. You went on this crusade, and he decided to support you even though it puts everything and everyone at risk. It already claimed the life of your mother. How much more are you willing to lose? Now tell me where you are so I can have someone pick you up and get you somewhere safe.”

  “I’m just fine where I am, thank you. And get off your goddamn soapbox, Jackie! We both know you only give a shit about what you can get from my father. You sure as hell don’t do anything to warrant it, though! I don’t know why he hasn’t anchored your sorry ass to the bottom of his fucking yacht by now!”

  “Look, little girl,” Jackie hisses. “You’d be best advised to speak to me in a respectful manner. You may not appreciate what I do for your father, but he clearly doesn’t share the same opinion.”

  “I’ll speak to you with respect when you do something to deserve it!” I scream, clicking to end the call. I pound my fist on the side of the door as Diego focuses his amused gaze on me.

  “Seems like that went well,” Diego says, his eyebrow lifting.

  I let out a loud squeal. “God, I despise him! He had no idea we were under attack. No fucking clue! How is that even possible?”

  “He’s a complete douchebag. I can’t understand how he’s managed to survive until now. His head thinks his ass is a hat, it’s so far up in there.”

  I giggle and drop my head back against the leather cushion. “Thank you. I needed that.” I struggle to stifle a yawn, but he catches me.

  “Oh yeah, neither one of us got any caffeine this morning, did we?”

  “No,” I groan. “And I was supposed to get a pastry with my coffee, too. That asshole assassin totally cockblocked me from my breakfast!”

  “You barely ate any of the food Gianna put out before. You must be starving.”

  Such a simple statement, but damn, it’s a loaded one.

  Because I am starving…for more than just food. A chill dances over my skin when my eyes latch onto his. It’s only for a split second, but it intensifies the fluttering sensation in my belly where a swarm of butterflies has just taken flight after being dormant for…well, pretty much my whole adult life.

  These feelings are completely foreign to me. And it’s not like I haven’t met plenty of men over the years. But they’ve all fallen short in one way or another. They’ve all had agendas and plans about to become part of my father’s trusted circle, and I’ve been the conduit.

  Eye candy.

  Arm candy.

  A trophy to be paraded around.

  Blech to all of it.

  Diego saved my life before he even knew it was me. He wasn’t looking for approval. He was just being a good person.

  Ha!

  I saw what he did to that guy in the café. Looks like Diego has had plenty of practice subduing aggressors. So maybe the good is preceded by an asterisk.

  Whatever. I’m still alive because of him.

  I won’t waste the opportunity.

  I drum my fingers on the arm of the couch. “You know, my mother never trusted that asshole Anzelone, either. She was so smart. She saw through people all the time. And he’s like a freshly washed window.”

  Diego snickers. “More like Teflon. Shit doesn’t stick to him. Your father is a smart man. Why the fuck is he still keeping that assbag around?”

  I shrug. “Papa is the type to need hardcore proof of someone betraying his trust. He doesn’t act on other people’s instincts. He likes to gather proof of his own before he takes action.”

  “I respect that.”

  “But you’d do things differently?”

  “I go with my gut most of the time. It’s not the best way to handle situations, but it saved you, so,” He winks at me. “I’m good with it.”

  “Yeah, me, too,” I whisper.

  “Were you really close with your mother?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I murmur, leaning back against the couch. “She was so amazing. A day never went by without her telling me how proud she was of me. She never wanted me to wonder if I was making a positive impact. She always assured me that I was, even when I doubted myself. She was the closest person to me. I don’t have any brothers or sisters, no real friendships to speak of. People were always looking for something from me and my parents — prestige, social status, protection, money. Nothing ever felt genuine, so my mother really became my world. I know that sounds so corny, but it’s true. She was like…no, she was my best friend.” I swallow hard, breaking up the gaggle of tears caught in my throat.

  “You’re an amazing woman, too. So the amazing woman who raised you obviously knew what she was doing.”

  I rest my head in my hands, smiling though my vision is blurred from the tears. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. I had nothing to do with it.”

  We sit there for a few minutes, studying each other but not speaking a word. And there are plenty to say, too. At least, on my side there are.

  I want so badly to be able to share my thoughts and fears with someone other than my parents, someone whom I trust. And even though it’s ridiculous to have these feelings, it’s equally preposterous that he’d jump in front of a gun to protect a person he doesn’t know from getting her head blown off. I’ve never felt close enough to a person to actually crave their presence when they’re sitting right next to me.

  I’m a little out of my element here.

  Okay, a lot out of it.

  I need a distraction from my distraction.

  “We need to do something,” I say, jumping off of the couch and pacing across the room.

  “I’m open to suggestions,” he says with a wink.

  My body temperature rockets to about a thousand degrees, and I swear if I don’t hold on to the back of the couch, my legs might just give out. “I’m serious. I need to occupy myself with something or I’ll go out of my freaking mind!”

  Diego snickers, and I can tell he’s fighting the urge to tell me how he might like to take my focus off of this damn harsh reality.

  Part of me wants him to rebel against his sensibilities.

  “You ever play a video game?”

  I furrow my brow. “Like Candy Crush?”

  “Not exactly.” He gets up and opens up a compartment under the television. A bunch of black controllers fall out of the cabinet and he lets out a groan. “Ant. Such a goddamn slob. He never puts shit away.”

  Yeah, I get that about him. I have a feeling he causes mass destruction and then walks away with a smile and a beer in his hand.

  Diego presses a few buttons on a black box-type thing and then hands me one of the controllers. I look at it and then back at him. I guess he reads my blank look because he snickers and pulls me down to the carpet next to him.

  “That look tells me you’ve never played Xbox before.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not that I have anything against video games. I just think that it’s a waste of time, time I’d rather spend doing something productive, you know?”

  He nods. “It’s a big time suck for sure. But it’s nice to be able to escape life every once in a while, shoot people and blow shit up, you know?”

  I giggle. “Oh, so you mean take a break from your reality with your reality?”

  He chuckles and the low rumbling makes my heart thump even harder. I grip the co
ntroller in my hand. Jesus, there are so many freaking buttons! How the hell am I supposed to keep them all straight?

  Diego flips on the television and suddenly, we’re plunged into a full-on battle in what appears to be…Santorini, Greece? At least, that’s what it looks like to me. White buildings against a mountainous backdrop with the sea on the other side. But wherever we are, the place is being blown to shit right now. Explosions light up the screen and gunfire erupts as our characters, decked out in army green, blast the hell out of everything and anything.

  I watch as Diego’s fingers expertly work the controller. He’s not even looking at it! His digits fly over the thing, pressing buttons like a madman. And he’s incinerating the place, so he clearly knows what he’s doing.

  Those fingers. Jesus, he works them like a pro. They must be pure magic.

  “Are you gonna play or what?” he asks, his eyes never leaving the screen. “Come on, you can do it.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Yeah, I don’t have the same faith in my own abilities. I’m good at a lot of things, but this—”

  “So you do get intimidated, huh? And here I was thinking you’d never let anything stop you from getting shit done.”

  My spine stiffens. He’s challenging me. Calling me out.

  Dammit. I turn the controller over in my hand. I have to figure this thing out. I always get shit done!

  “Press the green button to shoot and the red button to move.”

  “That’s it?” Seems easy enough.

  I click the green button a few times and bullets explode from my machine gun. I press the red button to creep forward. “How do I go left or right?”

  “Use the button in the middle. Slide it in the direction you want to go.”

  Boom! Crack! Pow!

  He really doesn’t need me here right now. He’s doing a fine job of decimating one of the most beautiful seaside cities of the Mediterranean on his own.

  I click the green button a few more times and manage to hit something. I let out a little squeal when I see part of a building explode.

  “See? You’re a real badass. I knew it.” Click, click, click, and boom! Another building crumbles.

  I follow Diego and turn left, clicking the green button and hitting a nearby car with a barrage of bullets. “Is the whole point of this game to blow up the city?” I ask. “Because I haven’t seen another player show up any—”

 

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