Shielded Wrongs: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 4)

by Adelaide Forrest

  “Walk your ass up on your own or I'll carry you," Enzo said shortly, proceeding up the steps. With a nervous swallow, I followed behind him. When we rounded the top of the stairs, he pulled a set of keys from his pocket and shoved open the first door. A large office with screens all over was inside, the entire back wall occupied by a glass window that looked down on the main floor, I stepped in nervously. The photos on the desk showed Enzo with a group of six women of varying ages, all shared commonalities between them. Family, somehow. They were the only personal touch to hint that the office was his.

  He made his way to a cupboard at the side, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and some ice from the mini-fridge next to it. Combining them in a tumbler, he downed the first drink with smooth swallows. I watched his throat work, wondered if he liked the burn of the liquor as it made the journey.

  Grabbing a second tumbler, he filled it with ice and whiskey. "It's a little early, even for me," I laughed.

  "You're going to want it for this conversation," he said, nodding his head down to the glass one more time. Accepting the glass with a swallow, I tossed it back quickly, wincing against the burn as it poured down my throat.

  "What conversation?" I asked, setting the empty glass on his desk. He glanced at it, filling it one more time. Then he moved around to the other side, setting the bottle down as he made his way to his chair. He dropped his weight into it, looking exhausted for the first time since I'd met him. He waved two fingers to summon me over as Rebel curled up on the floor nearby.

  Raising an eyebrow at him, I crossed my arms over my chest. I did not give the first shit if he was vulnerable. There was nothing on this planet that would make me come like a pet when summoned. "Please, Sadie," he said, studying me intently. With a sigh, I uncrossed my arms and walked around the desk to stand in front of him. Hands at my hips, he lifted me until my ass perched on the edge of his desk, and he moved his chair to position himself between my legs. His fingers ran over my jean clad thighs, the pressure of them grazing against me, even through the thick fabric, feeling like a soothing sensation in and of itself. I didn't know if it was for his sake or mine, but I suspected it calmed both our frayed edges.

  The need to flee already stirred in my veins, threatening to make me try to bolt out the door. "I had a girlfriend at home when I went to Afghanistan," he said, staring at the contact between his hands and my thighs. Like he couldn't quite look at me while he detailed his secrets.

  "I don't need to know about this, Enzo," I sighed, catching his chin and giving him a reassuring smile. "You don't owe me anything."

  "We both have shit we're dealing with. Unusual symptoms that are going to influence things in the future. We'll never survive if we aren't honest about them," he argued, raising an eyebrow at me as if he dared me to contradict him. But I couldn't, and the fact that I didn't discuss my symptoms or disorder with anyone only strengthened that desire to bolt. "At the time, she was good for me. We were happy, but when I came back, I wasn't the same. I’d always had problems with near blind rage, but the PTSD and flashbacks only made me more dangerous. I didn't function well in normal situations and surroundings. I didn’t have it in me to make small talk and socialize when I just didn't give a shit about frivolous crap. I couldn't keep a job because of my anxiety and spells like what happened today. Anything could set it off, and I couldn’t control my reaction. It happened more often when I first came home. She ended things with me because of it. Looking back, obviously I know it was for the best. The man I am now will never be the boy she loved before, but you need to know what you're getting into. I function better now. I have a job and socializing is fine. Spells like today will happen occasionally, particularly during times of high stress."

  "You don't need to be stressed because of me. I know I'm splitting your focus too much. I can take care of myself, or I guess Matteo could put someone else on me who's under less pressure," I argued. His face darkened with the latter suggestion, his eyes turning molten as his grip tightened on my thighs.

  "My stress has nothing to do with my job. I'm stressed because someone broke into your house in the middle of the night and tried to do God knows what with you. I'm stressed because if I slip up in protecting you, my woman could end up dead."

  "I'm not your woman," I said automatically.

  He chuckled, shaking his head. The smile faded from his face, those hands holding me tight to steady me. "When were you diagnosed with OCD?" he asked.

  "I wasn't," I answered, reaching over to grab my tumbler and down the drink. I was not drunk enough for this conversation. He’d been right about that.

  His brow furrowed as he watched me, waiting for an elaboration that wouldn't come. "Sadie," he groaned. "You've never seen someone?"

  "Why? So they can put me on meds? They diagnosed me with ADHD. They medicated me for that as a kid, and it was fucking horrible. Can you imagine what it will be like when they try to medicate me for a comorbidity between ADHD and OCD? I'll be a zombie."

  I'd thought Enzo would argue. That he'd be one of the first people to tell me that medicine could help. But I coped with my life just fine. I functioned, and I was mostly happy. No, my life wasn't perfect, but whose was? I didn't dislike the person I'd grown to be, idiosyncrasies and all. "Okay," he murmured. "No meds. Does anyone else know?" he said, surprising me into a moment of silence.

  "Ivory and Duke, vaguely. We don't really talk about it in depth because they know I'm uncomfortable with it, but she knows I'm not medicated. She understands better than most since she hates medication of any kind," I answered when I finally pulled out of my moment of shock. Ivory's issues were vastly different, stemming from an attempted date-rape and the half aware feeling she'd had while under the influence of Roofies. Anything that messed with her awareness of the world or made her sleepy wasn't tolerable for her.

  Enzo nodded. "Why the number five? Is there a reason?" he asked. I stared at him, the back of my throat burning with the sudden urge to cry. Nobody had ever asked me that. Nobody had ever noticed my obsession with increments of five.

  Even though there wasn't a suitable answer to the why, I couldn't help but feel a moment of affection because he paid close enough attention to notice it when nobody else did. The panic followed though, the wondering of when it would all fall apart. He already knew more than most.

  Would he run the next day?

  Would I?

  "I don't know. It's been that way for as long as I can remember," I sighed, wishing I could understand the oddities of my brain. But some things just made little sense. Some things weren't about logic.

  "And your family doesn't know?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "I do everything I can to keep it from them. My father has doubts about my ability to run the gym as it is because I'm a woman. If I gave him any sign that I might not be up to the task, he could take it all away. I don't want to disappoint him like that."

  "Okay, Baby Girl," Enzo sighed, leaning forward to press his forehead to mine. "I won't tell anyone. But if you have any particularly strong needs, you have to tell me. I don't want to get in a fight because I put the milk in the fridge wrong when I couldn't care less where it goes." I allowed the contact, trying to take comfort that, for now at least, he knew the truth and accepted it.

  And he was still mine.

  "It doesn't matter where you put it, just make sure it's straight," I laughed, but my chest tightened. Wondering how long it would last.

  Not long if I knew myself.

  Enzo knew me well. Too well for such a short time frame. He sensed the need for space and my desire to gather my thoughts. So, with a sigh, he'd introduced me to Dom downstairs. The man glowered at me from the doorway, looking as pleased as punch that he had to babysit me while I tried to eat my way through the food the bartender, Ash, plied me with. I'd never been one to turn down free food, but something just felt wrong about being downstairs, even with Rebel lying next to my stool.

  Being in Indulgence without Enzo at my side somehow
seemed awkward now that I had my whatever this was connection to him. The conversation upstairs was far too close for my comfort, but it was more than that. I'd been to lots of bars and clubs in my life. I'd never met a hot bartender who didn't flirt with the women who put their asses in the stools of his bar.

  Yet Ash barely looked at me as he served me, let alone went so far as to have a conversation with me. Without a doubt it was Enzo's doing, his stamp of ownership making me totally off limits. While I didn't want Ash in any way, I would not be owned. I wasn't a fucking pet to be leashed and controlled.

  "You know I have words, right? I'm not just a brainless sex doll that he rolls underneath him when he wants to jerk off in a wet hole," I snapped, making Ash finally turn his attention to me. "So when you ignore me and dismiss me like I'm incapable of conversation, it kind of pisses me off. With you. With Enzo. Do you want to be the reason I'm pissed at Enzo? I don't think he likes it much when I'm mad at him," I added with a coy smirk.

  Ash's face might have paled at the pathetic threat if he'd been most men, but he just smiled at me and bit his bottom lip. "He said you were a handful. You ain't much more than that are you, sweetheart?" His eyes glanced down to my body for the first time, curled up on my stool. Admittedly, with my legs curled under my thighs, I probably looked even smaller. I'd stopped giving the first shit about my size a long time ago.

  Except for when I couldn't reach my clothes in the washer and had to collapse a fucking lung leaning in. That shit sucked.

  Picking my knife up off the bar, I aimed it right at his face. "Call me short again, ass monkey." He chuckled, touching the top of my hand until I set the knife down with a clang.

  "Right. Maybe you should go back upstairs for Enzo to deal with." The words struck home more than he'd intended. Because I knew deep down, nobody wanted to deal with me. Even Enzo would tire of me as I came out of the stupor he seemed to put me in whenever I got too close to him. The blinding attraction would wear off. It always did. And then I'd be left wondering where exactly I'd gone wrong again.

  "No can do," Dom inserted, grinning like he had a little secret. "Rafael Ibarra is upstairs with him. He came in through the back." I had no clue who Rafael was, but the way Ash whistled in respect and glanced up at the stairs made me almost want to find out. It was only the knowledge that these men respected criminals and serial killers that stopped me from leaping off the stool to go stick my nose through the door.

  "I'll go check on your cheese fries," Ash said, pushing off from the bar dramatically and shaking his head at me as I eyed the stairs.

  "Don't do it," Dom said. "Rafael is not a man you want to meet, little girl." I groaned, choosing to ignore the slight to my size. Just because he was the size of King Kong didn't mean he needed to call me little.

  Little. Baby. Cute.

  Eff that.

  The female bartender who'd watched me curiously while she did inventory on the other bars set up throughout the main space made her way over once Ash was out of sight. "So, you're with Lorenzo?" she asked, eyeing me with distaste. It wasn't surprising that, with her makeup done to the nines and dressed to kill in her little black dress, she'd find me lacking. I was lucky I'd put on jeans, with my hair loose around my shoulders in a dark curtain and not a trace of makeup on my face.

  "Depends who you ask," I said with a catty smile.

  She smiled. "I guess it makes sense now. He must have a thing for women he can control. I never pegged him as the type to go for that, but I guess that's what a taste of power does, right? Makes them need to exert it in all areas of life." She sighed, picking at her perfectly polished nails. Mine were clipped short out of necessity, the natural color blending in too well with my skin compared to her bright red pop of color.

  "I am not controlled," I retorted, turning my attention to her fully.

  "No? So you can walk right out that door without Dom preventing you from leaving?" Her words hit that part of me, the rebellion that sparked within my very soul the moment I considered doing what I was told.

  "He's my bodyguard at Matteo's insistence. You know, because I'm his daughter's godmother." Her eyes widened briefly, seeming to realize that I wasn't as easy a target as she might have first assumed. The truth was, I was more heavily entrenched in the Bellandi family than she would ever dream to be. Marriage was the only way to get closer than I already was, but I wouldn't use the threat of Matteo to my advantage.

  I didn't need him to take care of one jealous woman. "Let me guess, you and Enzo used to fuck?" She pursed her lips, her silence giving me all the answer I needed. "Ah, you wanted to, but he never went there. Well, I'll be gone soon enough. I promise I'll toss him back when I'm done with him."

  Maybe.

  She glared at me, turning on her heel to storm back to the bar she was meant to be cleaning. For just a single moment, my heart wanted to flutter in my chest. Knowing that Enzo didn't give a woman like her the time of day, but had been very clear about his desire for me from the first moment we met, filled me with a brief flutter of hope.

  I studied Dom as he watched her strut, even in her pissed off fury. He was distracted by the sway of her ass in that dress. I pursed my lips for only a second before hopping up onto the bar and slipping down to the other side. Tucking my body against the bar itself as tight as I could manage, I counted off the seconds until he realized I was gone.

  "The fuck?" he yelled, and though I couldn't see him, I could just imagine the look of panic on his face. It almost made me feel guilty, knowing how angry Enzo would be with him. "Where'd she fucking go?"

  "I didn't see her go anywhere," the woman said. Crawling to peek around the edge of the bar, I watched as he hurried off toward the kitchens and the back entrance. Standing quickly, I pushed open the little door to the bar and strolled for the front. Rebel followed me as the woman gaped but made no move to stop me. Flashing her a one-finger salute and a bitchy smile, I shoved open the front doors and strolled out onto the sidewalk, leaving the club in my wake.

  I didn't stand a chance of staying out of Enzo's grasp for long, but the fresh air filling my lungs couldn't be denied. Clarity filled my head with a sense of independence and recklessness as I reveled in my newfound freedom.

  Sometimes opportunity knocked.

  I'd always answer the door.

  16

  Enzo

  I studied the wall with the list of names and assignments, considering who I could give to Aoife once Tiernan was informed of the end to their engagement. We needed more men. There was no way around that.

  Knowing the date of the sit down would have been helpful, but I wondered if it would be another scenario where Matteo informed me at the last minute. His sudden impulses were his natural defense against threats, making him unpredictable at best. It was great to some extent. Just not for me trying to coordinate his security.

  Seb cleared his throat where he lurked in my open office door. "Yeah?"

  "Rafael Ibarra and Calix Regas are here—" His voice cut off as the two assholes shouldered their way into my office. Two other men lurked in the hall, and I had to assume they were their personal security.

  "The polite thing to do is wait for me to invite you in," I said, but a grin I couldn’t contain made my lips twitch. I'd met Calix several times in my years since coming to work for Matteo, but Rafael was another story. The Spanish man's striking multicolored gaze met mine as a dark smile played at his lips. One green eye and one blue. His eyes made me blink my own, somehow showing darkness even through the light tones.

  "Enzo," he greeted, holding out a hand for me to shake. I'd never learned the details of how he knew Matteo, beyond the basics that they were allies and as close to friends as men of their caliber could be outside their families. Rafe was not a man I ever wanted to be on the bad side of.

  Placing my hand in his, I shook with a polite smile. "Can I get you anything?"

  "What about me?" Calix grinned, moving to the whiskey on my desk and helping himself to a drink. "Fuck I f
orgot what a bitch that flight is."

  "You're early," I pointed out.

  "Ah well, you know how it goes. My timeline has moved up. I need Matteo's war to finish so he can help me with mine," Calix said, not showing the slightest bit of remorse that he shrugged off potential loss of life so casually. Calix may not be the head of his family, hell, he'd been sent away from his own city for safekeeping after his father poked the wrong rival too hard.

  But he'd take back what was his. All of it.

  "They set a date?" I asked.

  He nodded grimly, his nostrils flaring as he sipped the whiskey and set the glass down sharply. His suit was crinkled, disheveled, as if he hadn’t been able to keep still on his journey to Chicago. I wouldn't have understood only a few days ago, but now I understood very well. The thought of Sadie engaged to another man, even an arranged marriage to a man she neither wanted nor loved, well, I'd be ready to tear him limb from limb.

  Even if he hadn't seen her since she'd been a child.

  Rafe nodded, glancing at the man who he'd trained and harbored in his territory while he waited out his time. Made alliances. Built up his own ranks. "We have less time than we anticipated."

  "Your father will still lend his support for both of our wars? What does he expect in return?" I asked Rafe as I sat. His olive skin gleamed as his lips split into a blinding grin, and he and Calix exchanged a knowing glance.

  "Matteo did not tell you? My father passed years ago. I am the Ibarra legacy now." Rafael's unusual stare dared me to ask the question. The last I'd known, Miguel Ibarra had been alive and well. Healthy.

  "Was he sick?" I asked, my throat working to swallow around the bile that crept up at the dark look in his bright eyes as he studied me in amusement.

  "Did Matteo ever tell you the story of how my mother died?" Rafe asked, instead of answering. Unlike Calix's suit, his was perfectly pressed and fitted to him like a second skin. He strolled around the office and eyed the names on the wall. "My father belonged in the Spanish Inquisition. He was, for lack of a better word, insane with his beliefs. His marriage to my mother was arranged, but he hated her because he thought her light eyes a trait of her witchcraft," Rafe scoffed. "So naturally, he had her burned at the stake once she stopped being useful, and he determined her to be barren after she never gave him another child after me."