Impossible Odds: A Mafia Romance (The Five Families Book 4)

by Jill Ramsower

  Just as I started up the treadmill, Giada came strolling into the gym with a yoga mat under her arm and a grin on her face as if she were at a spa retreat.

  “I hope you don’t mind, Santino said I could use the gym,” she called over the sound of my rhythmic footfalls.

  I continued jogging, attempting to ignore her as she bent over to roll out her mat, showing off every curve and dredging up memories of her naked body beneath me.

  Fuck.

  Was I so weak-willed that I couldn’t finish my workout in her presence? I trained my eyes ahead, staring at myself sternly in the mirror, but there she was in the background, my peripheral vision just making out her twisting form as she stretched. It was too much. I had to look.

  Her stretching morphed into an array of artful yoga poses that taunted me as if I were a kid salivating outside an ice cream shop. She progressed through a series of movements once, then twice through. When she started again, I hit my limit. My restraint snapped. I slammed my hand against the emergency stop button and stormed from the room to prevent myself from wrestling her to the ground and fucking her into next week.

  I took a long shower with water so cold I expected shards of ice to start bouncing off the shower floor. The chill helped cool my blood and focus my mind to prepare for my meeting with Naz. I couldn’t afford to be distracted in his presence.

  I managed to eat a quick breakfast without running into Giada, then made the short drive to Naz’s house. It had always been convenient to live so near one another, but now I wished for a bit more space between us. At least with security, I had a few minutes’ warning when he did surprise me with a visit, assuming they weren’t slow like last time.

  Naz’s house was more like a fortress. He had more security at his place than there was at the border. I understood why, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to live like that. I appreciated the luxuries this life afforded us, but when it came at the cost of freedom and privacy, it was no longer so alluring.

  “Ah, Primo, you’re here. Good, we can get started.” Naz folded the newspaper he was reading and motioned for me to join him. I’d found him on his back patio overlooking the enormous pool on the side of his house and the ocean beyond it. He was still in a plush robe after swimming laps and had the remnants of a smoothie and coffee on the table. “Can I have Marta get you something to eat or drink?”

  “No, thank you. I had breakfast before I came over.”

  He waved his hand in a gesture that said, suit yourself. “I trust our guest is adapting to her new situation.”

  “She appears to be more adaptable than most,” I answered vaguely. From what I could tell, she still refused to see herself as a pawn, but I didn’t want to explain that to Naz.

  His lips thinned. “Now that we have her, it’s time to reach out to Enzo and communicate our demands. The shipment will be reaching New York shores in a week, and we need access to that port. I take it they are aware we have her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Perhaps I’ll contact him tomorrow. It would be helpful to us if he’s given plenty of time to squirm before I speak to him.” He looked out over the pool and beyond to the serene shoreline. “What other news do you have from the city?”

  “The Chinese still haven’t established new leadership. Two factions are battling for control and so concentrated on their internal struggle that they shouldn’t be an issue.”

  “And the Russians?”

  “I don’t think they care as long as we stay off their territory. You know they’re only ever in it for themselves and don’t ally with anyone.” Juan Carlos had initially tried to gain access to the Russian ports in order to avoid dealing with the Italians. He claimed he would be able to use his recently acquired contacts to smooth over a deal, but his efforts had failed. Naz’s blind ambitions had made him overconfident about his brother’s chances of success. I’d known we had a snowball’s chance in hell, but I wasn’t about to get my head blown off for voicing that opinion. The Russians never worked with anyone; there was no reason they would change their habits now.

  Naz huffed in agreement. “That’s the problem with these other organizations. They don’t understand like we do in the south how to work together with your competitors such that both parties prosper. They’re too busy fighting one another to see the bigger picture.”

  Seeing my opening, I took the plunge and confronted Naz about my parents. “Actually, on the topic of competitors, I did learn something interesting from a conversation I had with your brother.”

  Naz casually picked up his coffee mug and took a sip. He looked at me patiently, but he was stewing with curiosity beneath the surface.

  “We figured out a surprising connection I might have had with Martín Alvarez, something that I don’t believe comes as any shock to you.”

  He continued to stare at me but otherwise gave nothing away.

  “Were you ever going to tell me there was more than simple charity behind you taking me in? That Alvarez was my father, and you had both my parents killed?” By some miracle, I kept my voice devoid of emotion. It would have been dangerous if Naz began to doubt my loyalty, so I had to broach the subject with the utmost caution.

  “Is this what’s behind your disobedience? Why you brought the wrong girl? Were you defying me because you felt betrayed?” He was wary—curious but not defensive—which was good.

  “This has nothing to do with her.” I had to deny it, but I was hoping that’s what he would believe.

  He studied me, picked apart every tiny detail to assess my motives before he continued. “I didn’t think Juan Carlos knew the connection.”

  “He didn’t, at least not until our conversation.” The two brothers had an interesting dynamic. Considering they were family and worked together, it would make sense to confide in one another, but that wasn’t the case. Between their age difference and a strong competitive streak, the two were more like wary allies than members of the same team.

  “How did you figure it out, then?”

  “That’s irrelevant, and you’ve not answered my question.” My voice tightened with anger as I began to lose the battle over my control. “I want to know if you ever planned to tell me.”

  He lifted his chin indignantly. “No, I didn’t. Your parents were the past; I was your future.”

  “Why did you do it? How did you know I was Alvarez’s son?”

  “There were rumors he had a bastard son. When I confirmed that a child had escaped the siege, I did some cursory searching. My efforts came up empty, so I let it go, but when I saw you at the fight, I knew it was you. You were the spitting image of him.”

  “That explains how. I also want to know why.”

  “Are you looking for me to tell you I felt guilt over what I’d done and sought to repent by taking you in? If that’s the case, you’re in for a disappointment. There’s no generosity in my story.” His words were a callous warning.

  “I want to hear it anyway.”

  He lifted a brow and glanced back out toward the beach. “I never wanted children of my own because they make a man weak, but there’s something to be said for having a protégé. Someone who can be molded into a proper successor. You became that someone. You had the required ruthlessness in your veins, and your years on the streets had brought that to the surface. You were the perfect subject, and look at what we’ve been able to achieve together.” He lifted his arms to indicate the vast wealth around us. “I am the fucking king of this country, and you are poised to take over once I’ve tired of my reign.”

  He hadn’t wanted a son; he’d wanted a mirror. A human experiment. Someone he could mold into his image without fear of injury or weakness. The explanation made sense when I looked at Naz from a different perspective—set aside the desires of a homeless orphan and looked at the man as he was. I couldn’t say I was all that surprised, nor could I claim I wasn’t glad he’d taken me in. He’d given me a far better life than I would have had on the streets. How could I hold that agains
t him?

  “I doubt your brother would be so thrilled to see me in control,” I countered, curious if he truly intended to hand me his empire.

  “Juan Carlos will do as I tell him, just as he’s always done,” Naz scoffed. “It’s not up to him to decide the fate of my business.” His eyes cut back to me, all traces of levity vanished. “But what happened in New York calls into question my faith in you.”

  “How can a man become a leader if he’s not able to make his own decisions? I assessed the options, and in my judgment, I took the right path. She was unprotected by a mafia husband or boyfriend, and she made the job easy by coming with me willingly. Can you really not see why I might have altered my plans?”

  He continued to stare down his nose at me. “That had better be the case. Should I decide that this woman has clouded your judgment in any way, I will take matters into my own hands.” He finally broke eye contact and stood. “It’s time for me to get dressed for my meeting. I’ll be in touch.” And with his parting words, I’d been dismissed.

  The conversation hadn’t been particularly good or bad, but just getting past it eased the tension in my chest. Naz would continue to watch me carefully, assessing my actions beneath his paranoid microscope, but I could still breathe easier knowing not all the scrutiny would be aimed at Giada.

  My relief that she was out of the direct line of fire was not something I cared to analyze.

  Instead, I spent the afternoon working away from the house and ignoring all things Giada until evening rolled around and I had to return home. As I strolled through the downstairs, I started to wonder if the house was empty when a peal of laughter trailed from upstairs. It was Giada, and her voice echoed with pure delight.

  I was instantly enraged. What the fuck was Santino doing with her that would warrant that sort of sound? I hadn’t specifically told him not to touch her, but surely he wouldn’t be so foolish. Whether she was my wife or a prisoner, he was never given permission to lay hands on her.

  I crept up the stairs two at a time, moving soundlessly through the house toward hushed voices and the crack of a pool stick striking balls. The game room. They were playing pool. I stepped into the doorway just as Santino bumped Giada with his shoulder playfully, then spotted my presence and hastily retreated.

  His sudden change in demeanor caught her attention, and Giada looked my way as well.

  “Perfect timing!” She grinned. “We were just starting another game. You can join us.” She wore a pale blue strapless sundress and had her hair cascading down her back in loose waves, completely unaware of how fucking gorgeous she was and the seething anger I hid just below the surface.

  Witnessing them together, laughing and flirting, I could hardly see straight from the vibrating fury inside my head. Santino was far more aware of how precarious the situation had become.

  “Actually, now that Primo is home, I need to head out.” He placed his cue stick back on the stand and nodded at me warily, only addressing me when he was close enough that she couldn’t overhear. “She was bored, Primo. And nothing happened, so don’t blow it out of proportion.” Knowing he was walking on treacherously thin ice, he slipped out of the doorway and off to safety.

  I turned my attention back to Giada, who assessed the balls on the table as if a tornado of trouble wasn’t swirling right out her window.

  “What the fuck did you think you were doing?” I growled at her, unable to hold back the savagery in my tone.

  Giada stilled and lifted her eyes. Instead of the shocked innocence I expected to see on her face, she wore a victorious battle mask. “Entertaining myself,” she asserted without an ounce of fear or hesitation. “What did you expect me to do? Stare at a wall all day?”

  My fists curled so tightly my knuckles cracked. I prowled forward, eyes glued to the devilish woman sent to earth just to upend my life. “Santino is here for your protection and to guard you, not as your entertainment and certainly not as some fuck toy for you.”

  Her eyes flashed with a hint of her own sparking temper. “Why does it matter to you? I’m just here as leverage. It shouldn’t matter who I talk to or if I fuck your entire army.” She held her ground as she spoke, not giving up an inch as I rounded the table toward her.

  “While you are under my roof, you will do as I say because every-fucking-thing on this property is mine.” I closed the distance between us until we were toe-to-toe. “That means this sharp tongue”—I cupped her jaw and gently squeezed her cheeks—“is mine. And this…” I released her, snaking my finger down her neck, between her breasts and across her belly down to the apex of her thighs where I cupped her sex. “This is mine.”

  Her breathing shuddered on parted lips. “How am I supposed to know that when you won’t come near me?”

  “I’m telling you now. Stay the fuck away from my men.”

  “And what about you? Will you continue to hide from me?”

  She was so fucking bold, and I wanted to both tear her down and protect her at all costs. Her maddening spell over me erased all logic and reset my brain to a primal level. Things like strategy and consequences were incomprehensible when I was in her thrall.

  “What are you doing to me?” I breathed, my hand coming back up to wrap reverently around the delicate column of her throat.

  “The same thing you do to me. Haven’t you considered that this thing between us has complicated my life as well? You’re not the only one who feels powerless. I would never have come with you if I’d felt like I had a choice, but I didn’t. This pull is too great, and it fucking guts me when you push me away.” Giada reached inside her soul and poured out its contents at my feet as if she had nothing to lose. She was in no position to challenge me, but that didn’t stop her.

  So fucking brave.

  So fucking tempting.

  I surged forward and nipped at her lower lip, drawing back with the sensitive flesh still pinched between my teeth before releasing her and trailing my tongue over the abused tissue. Giada lunged forward and tangled her tongue with mine, moaning into my mouth.

  I felt the sound straight down to my cock.

  She was a hurricane of desire and emotion, and I couldn’t seem to escape her. If the winds didn’t change and she continued to set her sights on me, her battering effects would forever change the landscape of my life. There was no avoiding it. Every second I spent with her drew me further into her orbit.

  The thing that worried me the most was that I couldn’t see through to the other side of the storm. The clouds were too dense to predict our survival. I spent years living with uncertainty, and I wasn’t a fan. In fact, I did everything I could to avoid it as an adult, but with Giada, I wasn’t sure I had a choice. She was the wildcard that threw everything into chaos.

  As my mouth slanted over hers and I sought to possess her with ravenous abandon, I wondered if a little anarchy wasn’t exactly what I needed in my life.

  How could something that tasted so good be wrong? Was that what an alcoholic would say? They say addiction is when a habit disrupts the function of everyday life. I would have to be willing to upend my life if I wanted to give in to the craving for her. Was I becoming addicted to this woman?

  I slowly pulled back from our kiss, meeting her wary gaze when she opened her eyes.

  “Please don’t push me away,” she whispered up at me.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “I’m asking for you. Just you.”

  I breathed deeply to clear my head but had no answers. “Let’s get some food. We’ll both feel better once we’ve eaten.” I stepped aside and set my hand on her lower back to guide her forward. Masculine satisfaction roared inside me when she followed my lead.

  Maybe Giada and I could come to some kind of middle ground where everyone was happy. Where she didn’t fight me, and my life wasn’t obliterated by her presence. I briefly recalled the sight of Santino smiling down at her, and that wistful delusion was shattered.

  Giada was all or nothing, an
d I had to decide what I could live with, and what I couldn’t live without.

  Chapter 17

  Giada

  Dinner with Primo was uneventful, which I took as a win. I was hoping that time together, no matter the activity, would help wear down the defensive wall he’d erected since we’d come to Mexico. After dinner, he made his excuses and walked me to my room. I didn’t push him for more, not wanting to burst the bubble of our pleasant evening.

  I went to bed feeling good about the progress we’d made that day, even though it had started on a rocky note, but when I went for breakfast the next morning, he was already gone. I found Alma in the kitchen and decided this would be a good opportunity to work on bonding with her. She was a short, older woman with heavily wrinkled skin and long hair, still mostly brown in color, that she kept swirled back in a loose bun. I found her to be very kind but quiet, which gave me hope she might be of use to me.

  “Good morning, Alma. What delicious goodness have you been working on this morning?”

  “Good morning, Miss Giada. I’ve got some pan dulce—sweet bread—and of course some eggs for Señor Primo because that’s what he prefers.” She brought over a plate with a large roll on it and a side of eggs. The bread had a white top coating that had cracked apart while baking and left an interesting webbing on the surface. It smelled utterly divine.

  “This looks perfect, thank you!”

  She blushed and waved a dismissive hand at me. “It’s just some bread, mija.”

  I pulled off a piece of bread, which was still warm, and let the lightly sweet treat melt on my tongue. “Oh my God, you are amazing. If I stay here long, I’m not going to fit in any of my clothes.”

  The older woman giggled. “You don’t want to be too skinny. Men like curves on a woman.”

  “Girl, I’ve got curves to spare, don’t you worry.”

  “Oh, I’m not too worried about you. Somehow, I think you can take care of yourself.”