by Vivi Paige
Granted, I hadn’t come into this to woo my own lawyer, but what’s a man supposed to do? Besides, I’m pretty sure this is one of those unwritten laws of being a made man. Generations ago, the old capos that roamed the narrow alleyways of Naples had probably made some kind of mafioso voodoo to ensure that a full-blooded Italian wouldn’t be able to look away from a fine piece of ass without being smote on the spot by God’s hammer.
I definitely didn’t want that, and so I let my gaze wander down Sophie’s body, enjoying the way her blouse and skirt hugged every detail of her curves. It was almost a sin to say that she was hot—next to her, the fucking Vesuvio itself would be nothing but a broken kettle.
“Let’s put this behind us, bella,” I said, allowing my grin to melt into a smile that had dropped as many panties as a B-52 bomber had dropped bombs. “Let me buy you a drink, what do you say?”
“First you spank me, now you want to buy me a drink.” She folded her arms over her chest, which resulted in her breasts being pushed up. Not that I was going to complain. “What are you, Indro? Some kind of bipolar mafioso?”
“I’m just trying to right my wrongs.” I made the sign of the cross and, for good measure, finished it by kissing my thumb. Blasphemy wasn’t exactly a good thing among those who followed the white-robed man that lorded over the Vatican, but I figured that even the pope would approve of this. If God wanted me to behave, maybe he shouldn’t have put Sophie on my path.
“You’re so full of shit, Indro.”
“Yes, yes,” I said. “Now, andiamo.” Before she could protest, I grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her out of the kitchen. Ten minutes later, we were walking through the arched entrance of Botte, a dimly lit bar that prided itself on its long list of Italian cocktails.
Sophie made it a point to drag her petulant mood after her. Not that I minded it. Her moodiness was nothing but a challenge to me and, after three Negronis, she was finally coming out of her shell.
“If you weren’t such an asshole,” she said, taking another sip of her fourth cocktail while leaning against the counter, “maybe I would break my no-clients rule. Too bad you’re set in your ways.”
“What’s this?” I smirked, enjoying the way her full lips hugged the rim of her glass. It was hard not to imagine them hugging something else. And after what she had just said, my mind was hard at work imagining a lot of different things. “What happened to Miss Lawyer Bitch? I didn’t notice her leaving.”
“You have a way of turning a compliment into an insult,” she threw back at me, blowing a stray lock of hair away from her face. Awkwardly, she tried sitting up on a stool, but lost her balance and crashed against me. Her hands landed on my chest, her fingers clawing at my hard pectorals, and I laughed as I helped her up.
“You know, there are better ways to get your hands on me.” I pushed her fourth Negroni away from her. That was the proverbial one drink too many, I figured. “You just have to ask nicely, and maybe I’ll let you have a bite.”
“A bite?” She pressed her body against mine and, I’ve gotta admit, I kinda blacked out for a second there. My cock went from twitching to standing at full attention, Sophie’s scent taking my brain by assault, and it took all that I had not to bend her over the counter. Again.
“Maybe more than a bite,” I whispered, enjoying the promises of sweat and glory in her eyes. Fuck, had I known that three Negronis would do it, I would’ve walked into her office with a tumbler and ice. “Maybe I’ll even let you—”
“Hold that thought.” She held one hand up, using the other to cover her mouth as she started hiccuping. “I’m gonna need to use the restroom.” With that, she turned on her heel and ambled across the bar, making her way toward the back. I followed her every movement with a predator’s hunger and, once she was out of sight, I ordered myself a Campari. I needed to cool down—to behave as a horny teenager wasn’t befitting of a respectable made man.
No, I had to wait as the cool and confident man that I was. After all, a made man is a patient man. Except my patience had its limits. By the time my glass was half-empty, I glanced at my wristwatch, frowning. Sophie had been in the restroom for ten minutes now, and that had me worried.
That’s when it hit me.
“Fuck,” I breathed out, checking my pockets like a cokehead who has suddenly remembered there’s an extra gram somewhere in his jacket. I tried to find the SIM card, but it was gone. Sophie had played me like a fucking fiddle.
Bravo.
Chapter Thirteen
Sophie
My heels clicked against the lobby’s marble tiles. A few heads turned my way as I headed toward the elevators. I gave a quick wave at the doorman, smiled, and squeezed myself past the sliding doors. Once they closed in on me, the elevator pushed itself up with a ding. I glanced at the mirror behind me and finger-combed my hair.
That’s why you don’t run through downtown like a maniac, especially if you’re wearing heels. It makes you look unkempt, even if you’re wearing $1000 Louboutins, and that’s something I simply can’t stand.
Thankfully, this had all been worth it. The SIM card was now safely tucked inside my purse, and I had even gotten three Negronis for my trouble. Now, it was only a matter of destroying the damn thing, and Indro would no longer have any power over me. Addio, asshole.
In a way, that was disappointing.
As much as I hated to admit it, it was exhilarating to be manhandled by someone like him. He was impetuous and dangerous, I knew that, but that’s what made it all so fun. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t half as clever as he was dangerous, and proof of that was the way I had managed to steal the SIM card.
I only had to bat my eyelashes at him a couple of times, give his bicep a quick squeeze, and the old Roman blood that coursed through its veins made him lose all composure. No wonder the barbarians crushed Rome. They probably threw a few naked women over the walls, and then it was only a matter of severing the heads of a few thousand gaping morons. All things considered, pillaging an empire isn’t that hard, provided you have enough naked women.
Once the elevator stopped on my floor, I rushed into my apartment, slamming the door shut behind me. I grabbed the SIM card from my purse and, without a moment’s hesitation, wandered into the kitchen and threw it into the blender.
“Come on,” I muttered, pressing the On button over and over again. Remembering that the damn thing had a safety feature, one that stopped it from functioning without any food in it, I started rummaging through my fridge. “This oughta do it.”
I opened the lid of a jar of marinara, sighing at the waste of it, and dumped the whole thing inside the plastic container. It gurgled as it hit the bottom, some of it dripping down the sides, and it drowned the SIM card in tomato sauce.
Easy win.
I reached for the button again, ready to send the card into the afterlife, and that’s when the front door burst open, wood flying through the air.
“What the fuck are you doing?” a red-faced Indro shouted, charging into my apartment like a raging bull. Before I could do anything about it, he grabbed me by the wrist and spun me around, pushing me away from the blender. “If you think I’m fooled that easily, then you’re in for a surprise.”
Reacting on instinct, I brought my knee up. It crashed between his legs with a dull thud, deflating Indro like a balloon someone had poked a hole in. I pushed him aside, reaching for the blender as if it was my lifeline, but the asshole grabbed my ankle and tripped me.
My knees hit the kitchen tiles, pain shooting up my bones, and I tried to punch and kick Indro away from me. Suffice to say, the results were mixed. Even though I knew how to punch assholes into submission, Indro was far more skilled than I was when it came to conflict, and that showed in the way he manhandled me.
“You’re fucking impossible,” he growled, pinning my wrists against the floor as he straddled me. “Now stay put, or else I’m going to spank you so hard you won’t be able to sit for a month.”
Groanin
g, he pushed himself off of me, and I immediately considered his threat. I would never tell him that, but I wouldn’t mind another spanking. In fact, that was something I could see myself enjoying.
“Not a fucking move,” he said, glancing at me over his shoulder. By then, I was already on my feet and ready to hit the blender. Moving impossibly fast, he grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back. “Jesus Fucking Christ, woman. Do you even speak English?”
“Get out of my house,” I snapped, and he replied with one of his cocky grins.
“In a minute.” Using his free hand, he rummaged through the cupboards until he found an extension cord. Dragging me across the kitchen, he forced me to sit down on a chair, and then laced the cord around my torso and the chair’s backrest. Once he had me properly tied up, he placed both hands on his hips and gave his handiwork an approving nod. “Perfetto.”
“You have no idea how much pleasure it’ll give me to see your ass dragged into jail,” I told him, and his amused expression quickly gave way to a sour one. “I hope that priest guy comes forward and nails you.”
“Do I need to remind you that our futures are intertwined?” He spun on his heel and went behind the kitchen counter. After unscrewing the lid on the blender, he let out a weary sigh and dipped his fingers into the marinara. Five seconds later and his hand emerged, the tiny SIM card pressed between his fingers. “Don’t forget who you’re working for.”
“Screw you.”
“Is that how it’s going to be?”
“Damn right.”
“So be it.” Shaking his head in mock disappointment, he grabbed the plastic container with the marinara and sauntered toward me. With a dramatic sigh, he rolled his eyes at the ceiling and then upended the damn thing on my head, the thick sauce coating my hair in the most hideous of ways. “Remember, Sophie, if something happens to me… you’re just as screwed as I am.” He turned to leave, but stopped to throw me one last glance. “Let that marinate in your mind.”
Chapter Fourteen
Indro
Damn, how could I let that happen? How did I let myself get distracted by that woman? Something about this Sophie chick was blinding me from reality.
You’re out for yourself, Indro. First yourself, then the family.
My blood was boiling as I took the stairs out of her building. I didn’t even get any satisfaction as I thought about pouring that marinara all over her head. It was the sort of last move I loved. Leave them with something to remember. Instead I couldn’t stop thinking about Sophie’s lips as she downed Negronis. I couldn’t stop thinking about her ass when I had her bent over at the restaurant.
Fuck. I had to pull myself together. Nothing good comes from being distracted.
I rushed past the doorman and pushed through the double doors. I heard a pop and my instincts had me on the ground. I scampered to my right just as another shot came, and I fumbled with my belt to try to pull my .22 from its holster. I counted at least three guys. I saw two from the illumination of the street lights across the road. Both masked. One was hiding behind a parked Cadillac and another behind a dumpster. Someone else was firing from my left, but I couldn’t see him. It was too dark only half a block away.
I finally got the pistol out and aimed for the black mask bouncing up and down behind the Cadillac. He was doing a pretty consistent dance over there, and I guessed his next move, aiming for just above the hood of the car. I got lucky. I heard him call out, and he went down, but the others were still firing. I scampered behind the trash cans left out on the street and aimed again. I heard my shot ricochet off the dumpster, but my target ducked for cover in time.
Meanwhile, the doorman in Sophie’s building seemed to be checking in on what was going on. I saw him peering out through the front doors. There was a neighbor sticking her head out from an upper window as well. Even though we were in Chicago, this wasn’t really the typical spot for a shoot-out. The residents in Sophie’s wealthy neighborhood probably didn’t even hear the screams of stray cats at night. Three masked gunmen were sure to draw some attention.
“I’m calling the cops,” the woman from above me called out. If there was any moment these guys might hesitate or think about retreating, now was it. I had to take my chance. I took off down the alley next to Sophie’s building, trying to keep an eye over my shoulder as I ran through the dark. I blindly fired behind me, hoping my luck would continue tonight.
“Fuck,” I heard one of them call out as he dodged the bullet. No luck. But just then a door opened in front of me and a woman emerged with a trash bag. Bingo.
I squeezed my way past the woman and in the back door of a shop or maybe office building, pulling the door closed behind me. Maybe it would lock and keep these chasing thugs away from me. I tripped over another bag of trash on the floor before scrambling up and pushing my way through shelves of towels, sheets, and nail polish. A nail salon, from the looks of things. My suspicions were confirmed as I found myself bursting into a small storefront with a row of women in pedicure chairs.
“What’s going on?” A blonde reading a magazine asked, and a brunette even screamed. I winked at the screaming brunette as I ran past other women at the front having their nails painted. Ordinarily a room full of peacocks preening their feathers would have been just the place to spend a few minutes, but not with one or two mobsters on my tail.
“Nothing to see here, ladies,” I called out and pushed through the front door.
I heard sirens around the corner and took that as a good sign. Maybe these assholes following me would get scared and run. I hadn’t heard any shots behind me, and there weren’t any more screams coming from the nail salon. If two heavy-set men in black masks were running through a salon of women, I would certainly hear it. At the very least from the brunette.
Still, I kept running. I always make it a rule to run more than I think I should. I’m careful like that. I followed a familiar diversionary pattern that had me weaving in and out of alleys and down blocks. I jumped a few fences just to be safe. Damn the expensive leather I wore on my feet—it was killing me now.
That’s the last time I try to impress that lawyer, I thought.
I counted another twenty steps, one of my lucky numbers, before slowing down.
What the FUCK was that? I thought. I threw myself onto the stoop of a brownstone and put my head in my hands. Someone put out a hit on me? After my meeting with the Don and Flavio sticking up for me, I thought I was good with the Maloiks. Did the Don change his mind? Did he decide I was too much trouble after all?
Or was it something else? Maybe not related to this murder charge at all? It could be another family trying to get one up on the Maloiks. Or even a former victim looking for revenge. I had a long past and lots of skeletons hiding in the closet. Which one was chasing me now was anybody’s guess.
All I knew was that I couldn’t go home. If they’d found me at Sophie’s apartment then they definitely had people stationed at my own. Going home was a sure way to find myself in the hospital. Or even dead if the guy was a good shot.
I looked up to the sky and tried to make out any stars through the light pollution and the clouds, but there was nothing there. Sometimes I wonder how I get myself into these messes. I sighed and shook that thought away before checking up and down the street. All clear. I stood up and took off in the direction I’d come. The safest place for me was right back where they had already found me. It looked like Sophie was going to host a little slumber party.
Chapter Fifteen
Sophie
I leaned forward, pushing myself against the extension cord.
“Damn it,” I hissed, the rubber cord digging into my chest and arms as I tried to wrangle myself free. Not that it did me any good. For all his faults, Indro sure knew how to tie a woman up. Unfortunately for me, that hadn’t been done in the way most women dream about. Instead of a 50 shades of sexiness scenario, I was a marinara-covered monster grunting with effort as I tried to worm my way out of the chair.
> Knowing there was no way I’d be able to free myself with pure effort, I straightened my back and started rocking the chair from side to side. The legs on the chair tapped the floor once, twice, and then I tipped over to the side.
I was half-hoping for the chair to break, but that didn’t happen. Instead, the damn thing just bowled over, my left side slamming against the hardwood floor.
I’m gonna fucking kill him, I thought, anger simmering in my veins. There were a lot of assholes in the world, but Indro definitely took the cake when it came to the art of assholery.
As if my thoughts had summoned him, I heard the front door swing open, part of it scraping against the floor. I looked up to see Indro standing on the doorway, hands on his hips as he looked at the door’s broken hinges.
“You gotta get that fixed up,” he said, so casually you’d think he was commenting on the weather. “This day and age, you really have to focus on home security.”
“You’re the one who burst that door open,” I threw out, spitting out some marinara as it got into my mouth. “Now get over her and free me.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to ask nicely.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snarled, rocking my body like a lame turtle someone had turned on its back. “Get over here right now, asshole.”
“Or what?” He stood over me, looking down with an expression of amusement. “Are you going to bite my ankles or something?”
I just glared at him.
If looks could kill, then Indro would have popped out of existence in that moment. Unfortunately for me, my glare seemed completely devoid of any special powers. I figured it didn’t help that I was lying on the ground, covered in marinara.
“I swear to God, Indro,” I continued, trying to speak through the marinara that dripped down my cheeks and into my mouth. “If you don’t let me go right now, I’ll make it my life’s mission to—”