Wrath (Part I): A Mafia Romance (Esposito Series Book 1)

by Fariah Zaidi

  Stefan came to stand in front of me. His masculine scent engulfed me in hordes, and I had to almost stop myself from sniffing more of it.

  When did I become such a creep?

  He stepped even closer. So close that there was barely an inch of space between us. My eyes came in contact with his bare chest, looking so tempting. I could feel the warmth emanating from him, making me want to move even closer.

  Bu I couldn’t bring myself to look up into his eyes.

  “I asked,” Stefan’s deep voice was now at a lower octave, deep and husky, “what are you doing here, Zara?”

  A shiver that ran down my spine at the way my name rolled off his tongue. Slow and teasing.

  “I… uh…” I stuttered, my eyes still cast down.

  His warm fingers came to rest on my chin, and he raised my face up, making my eyes meet his.

  Those beautiful grey eyes. Only they looked darker now. There was a fire in them.

  “I brought you dinner.” I told him, a little proud that I didn’t stammer this time.

  “Why?” he asked a moment later, his voice a whisper.

  “You didn’t come dow-” my words died on my lips when he suddenly moved away.

  “Stefan.” my voice came out breathy and untamed as I watched him back away a little. The warmth emanating from his body disappeared, and I almost missed it.

  “What part of ‘I don’t want to eat’ do you not understand?” he whispered, his anger returning.

  I blinked twice to rid myself off of all the inappropriate thoughts that were running through my mind.

  Right, dinner.

  “Um… uh…” I stammered a little and then cleared my throat, “You haven’t had a proper meal since the past four days. And everyone is worried about you.”

  “And you?” he asks after a moment.

  “And you, what?” I ask, desperately trying to stop my eyes from wandering over his body since he was still standing quite close.

  “Were you worried about me?” he asks, again moving close.

  I didn’t say anything because even I don’t know why I am here. What was it that prompted me to stay back after everyone had gone to sleep and bring him dinner?

  “Zara?”

  When I look at him, I can’t help but reply in affirmation, “Yes.” And I realized it was true. I was worried about him.

  A ghost of a smile lifts his lips at the sides, but it’s gone as soon as it comes. Without a word, he turns around and walks away.

  My question about him having dinner dies in my throat when my eyes land on his back.

  It is another tattoo. And this one covers his entire back. It’s an Italian phrase superimposed on a huge phoenix. I recognize the bird because I have a similar tattoo on my nape.

  On Stefan, the tattoo looks mesmerizing. His broad, muscular back enhances the beauty of the bird in a way that almost tempts me to reach out and feel it with my own fingers.

  “You can leave now.” his voice snaps me out of my admiration.

  I take a moment and blink rapidly, trying to pull my eyes away from his back.

  “What about dinner?” I ask, “I made-”

  “Take it with you.” he cuts me off, picking up his phone, “I am not hungry.”

  And then I exploded. I lost every ounce of patience that I was desperately trying to maintain.

  “Listen to me you stubborn, big-headed Italian.” I seethed.

  He whirled around, his anger evident as he raised his eyebrows in an intimidating manner; basically telling me not to talk further. No way in hell was I listening to him anymore.

  “I know that you’re angry and you’re hurting. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to neglect your health.” I went on, moving closer, not the least bit affected by his jaw ticking in rage, “Everyone is worried about you. But hell, they are so scared that no one would dare to even say anything to you.”

  I almost ran back as Stefan took a threatening step forward, but I held my ground.

  “But this big, bad, Mafia attitude that you have going on, it won’t work on me.” I lowered my voice, because now we were close, close enough that I could make out the specks of blue in his grey eyes that were brimming with anger.

  “You are crossing a very dangerous line, Zara.” he warned, gritting his teeth.

  “I don’t care.” I retorted, folding my hands across my chess, “So here’s what’s going to happen. When I leave this room, you are going to sit your stubborn ass down and finish the lasagna that I made today. And when I come back tomorrow morning, I better not find that plate untouched, Esposito.”

  I don’t know where all this confidence was coming from, but I held my head high and left his room, slamming the door shut behind me. When I reached my room, I quickly locked it behind me, afraid that Stefan might come barging after me with his gun.

  I strained my ears to hear any footsteps or angry curses, but none came.

  Breathing out a relaxed sigh, I changed into my pajamas, slipped into the bed and fell into a dreamless slumber. As I drifted off, I couldn’t help but smile at the way Stefan’s eyes widened a little in shock when I called him a ‘big headed Italian’.

  Chapter 9: Buongiorno

  Zara

  Every morning that I wake up in this house, I have to take a few moments to gather my surroundings.

  Because no matter how beautiful this new room is, or how big the bathroom is, it will be hard for me to get used to this luxury.

  I miss my home. I miss the lavender colored walls of my apartment, my bedroom scattered with fairy lights and posters. I miss my mother’s comforter, the one I would sleep in every night. I miss my old life, no matter how boring it was.

  It took me a lot of effort to get back up on my feet after my parents’ murder.

  When I got released from the hospital two years ago, I met the officer in charge of my case. He explained how hard it was to solve since there was pretty much no evidence pointing towards any particular person or organization. And all I could offer to the police as a description of the men was that they were all wearing dark clothes with masks and that my rapist had green eyes.

  After eight months of investigation, which bore no fruit, it was declared a cold case.

  No evidence. No assailant. No arrest.

  I had no other relatives. No grandparents or aunts or uncles. I wasn’t in contact with any of my high school friends and my college friends were more interested in attending frat parties and drinking themselves to an early grave. Plus, no one would readily agree to be friends with a traumatized nineteen year old girl.

  From the moment I left the hospital, I was holed up in my house- making and taking calls on my parents’ behalf, meeting with the lawyer or simply bawling my eyes out, wondering when, how and why did it all go so wrong.

  My days were spent doing the above and nights were spent kicking, screaming and begging in my nightmares, and then waking up, and breaking down all over again.

  The only time I left the house was to go to my therapist, which was once a week. She was this kind, middle aged lady named Sarah Martin. Now, I was never a supporter of therapy. I could never understand the concept of sitting in front of someone and reliving again and again what was the worst time of my life. Sarah and I mutually understood that I was not going to talk; therefore she helped me by urging me to try and get my life back to normal.

  She asked me to start by going for a daily run, start eating healthy and applying for a job.

  It took me a year to get back on my feet. I never talked to Sarah about that night, instead we talked about how long I was working out, what my diet consisted of and she even asked me to take a self-defense class.

  When I applied for a job at the same restaurant my father worked at, I heard back from them the very next day. Sure my résumé didn’t consist of much, but after seeing my practical skills, they offered to give me a chance.

  Pretty soon, I’d moved out of my old house. It was filled with memories of the people that I’d lost,
my childhood, everything. But it also harbored the trauma that was giving me sleepless nights. So I locked it up and left it, moving to an apartment much closer to work and with far less terrifying memories.

  On Sarah’s advice, I started talking to people at work- my boss, my co-workers. My crippling anxiety started diminishing and I was laughing and smiling more often.

  My initial fear of men had subsided over the year, but it hadn’t vanished completely. The panic and trembling still kicked up whenever any guy was too close to me or suddenly touched me. A mere pat on my back by the head chef left me all anxious and reeling. And the idea of going out on a date alone with a guy was not even questionable.

  And now, sitting here, on this bed, in this huge house, I can’t help but wonder yet again how rapidly my life has changed.

  Never in a thousand years could I’ve imagined that my life would turn out this way- the Mafia, the Families, the truth about my parents, everything.

  And now that I knew, I couldn’t help but think that maybe I can do this, that maybe this is my destiny.

  I twirled the Esposito ring around my finger, my thoughts drifting to the moment Stefan slid it on. The way his hand brushed against mine, in a way that made me want to hold on to him.

  And then to last night, when I saw him in all his semi- naked glory. The way my heart raced and my face flushed.

  God, what was all this?

  I woke up early today, way early. Taking a quick shower, I changed into a black sweater dress and a pair of shoes

  Now, looking like a complete creep, I was standing in front of Stefan’s bedroom, my ear pressed against the door, waiting and listening for him to get up.

  Why?

  Because I wanted to see if he had eaten last night or not. I was waiting for him to go to the bathroom so that I could quickly sneak in and check the tray of food.

  God forbid, if someone saw me right now.

  Alas, someone did.

  “What are you doing?”

  I pulled away from the door, startled at Rafael’s voice that was laced with confusion. He must think I’m crazy.

  Maybe I was.

  I raised my finger to my lips and shushed him, “Shut up. He might hear you.”

  Getting even more confused, he came to stand next to me and whispered, “What is going on?”

  “I got dinner for Stefan last night.” I whispered, worried that he might get pissed that I completely went against what he said.

  “What?” he whisper-yelled in disbelief. Yup, definitely angry.

  “And I may or may not have threatened him about eating.”

  “What?” More disbelief. More anger.

  “And I also may or may not have called him a ‘big- headed, stubborn Italian’.”

  “You did what?” This time his eyebrows disappeared in his hair.

  I give him a sheepish smile, “Now I’m waiting to see if he ate it or not.”

  “Why would you do that? Why? After I warned you yesterday.”

  He looked so adorably angry and disbelieving in that moment that I wanted to reach out and squish his cheeks.

  And I did.

  His eyes widened at the incredulity of my actions. And I couldn’t control the giggles that erupted from my lips.

  “Stop that, woman.” he tried to smack my arms away, “Are you crazy?”

  It made me do that even more.

  The sound of a door being opened and closed caught our ears and we both halted. Stefan probably went to the bathroom.

  “Well, I got work to do. I don’t intend to stand here and watch you get shot by Stefan. Bye.” With that, Rafael turned around and walked away, making me fearfully wonder if Stefan might actually do that.

  Unable to contain my curiosity anymore, I opened the door to his room and sneaked in, tip toeing across the carpeted floor towards the coffee table. The tray was still covered.

  With bated breath, I lifted the lid off the plate.

  Empty.

  My smile started slow. Until it spread so wide over my face that I was jumping up and down in glee.

  After the way I talked to him last night, I was pretty sure he would save the food just so he could smash it in my face.

  This time, I was aware that Stefan might come out of the bathroom anytime. So, putting the lid back in its place, I quickly tip toed back out of the room.

  The moment I closed the door behind me, I let out a happy squeal, doing a booty shake right there in the empty corridor.

  For the first time in weeks, my morning had started on a good note. Not only did Stefan eat the food I got for him, but also because I slept peacefully last night without any nightmares. There were no green eyes haunting my dreams, no panic attacks, nothing. I slept like a baby.

  When I walked into the kitchen, Mama Bella was frying something in a pan and Ria was making a pot of coffee. The usual morning greetings were exchanged and I took a seat on the counter.

  Mama Bella was an expert in cooking eggs in almost a hundred different ways. She could pair it up with anything and it would turn out to be delicious. I looked over the pans, the aroma of her mushroom and sausage omelets making my mouth water instantly. Maybe I could sneak a piece from the ones she has cooked already.

  “Hey, hey!” Bella shooed me away, “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t you dare touch any of those.”

  I smiled sheepishly at her, “How can I help?”

  “Now you take up the pot of coffee and the juice jug over to the table.” she told me, waving the spatula in my face, and then adds with a suspicious look, “I don’t trust you with these omelets.”

  Still grinning, I do as she says, making my way to the adjacent dining room. When I returned, Rafael and Vincent were already in the kitchen, picking up the rest of the food and making their way to the table.

  “I see you made it out of the lion’s den alive.” Rafael smirked at me.

  “He didn’t see me.” I tell him, shrugging my shoulders.

  “Wait, what are you guys talking about?” Ria asks, looking between us.

  “Zara forced Stefan to have dinner last night.” Rafael quips.

  All eyes turn to me, shock painted across their faces.

  “It’s not a big deal.” I roll my eyes, laughing a little, “I just nicely asked him to eat and that’s all.”

  “Are you forgetting the part where you called him a big-headed Italian?”

  I glared at Rafael as everyone let out shocked gasps, even Enzo.

  “I was angry.” I defended myself, “I fully understand that he is hurting and angry but that doesn’t mean he’ll just stop having food. That’s just immature.”

  For a few moments, everyone was quiet.

  And then Mama Bella snorted loudly, breaking into fits of laughter.

  “Oh my God, that must have been priceless.” she wheezed, “I can’t believe you called him a big-headed Italian.”