Vexing Victor (The Adamos Book 4)

by Mia Madison

  “You did the kitchen first?” I say. I’d think most guys would fix up their den or living room, wherever the tv was going to be. Although, come to think of it, Carlo’s kitchen had fancy appliances too.

  “Gotta have a working kitchen so I can test new recipes,” Vic says. Whatever he’s making right now, it smells amazing. My stomach gives a loud rumble that I hope he’s too far away to hear.

  Testing new recipes … “You cook for the café? And why does a garage have its own restaurant anyway?”

  “I run the café,” he says. “That includes being in charge of the menu. As for why, it used to be separate, but when it came up for sale a few years ago Dante and Rico bought it. Their customers were in there all the time anyway.”

  “Dante and Rico?” I know I sound like a freaking parrot, but I can’t help it. My brain has this compulsion to learn more about Victor and his world.

  “My brothers. They founded Revved.”

  I start to ask more, but Carlo comes into the kitchen. “We’re all set. Cameras are in place and we’ve got sensors on the windows and doors and panic buttons installed.”

  “Panic buttons?” It makes me want to panic just saying the words. “Why do we need those?”

  “Just a backup precaution,” Carlo says. “If someone manages to get past the outer defenses and inside the house, you can still alert the cops and my control room.”

  “Okay.” It comes out in a small, scared kind of voice, and I hate that. I may not be a star student, but I’m smart in other ways, and when my dad was alive I felt strong and capable. Now I feel weak and helpless and it makes me want to break things.

  Vic and Carlo exchange glances and then Carlo says, “I’ll see you around. Oh, and Gina wants you two to come over for dinner later this week.”

  I manage a smile. “That’d be nice.” There’s a constant small ache in my chest, like a low-grade fever. All these people being nice to me, and I have to leave them.

  The guys look at each other again, and then Carlo gives me a chin lift and he’s gone. Vic comes over and sets down a plate with an enormous omelette on it. My mouth waters.

  “I can’t eat all this,” I say apologetically.

  “Do your best, babe.” He lays down silverware and goes back to the stove. I pick up a fork and take a bite, and almost moan out loud.

  It’s the best omelette I’ve ever had. Creamy, fluffy, cheesy ecstasy. “This is amazing,” I say.

  “Glad you like it.” Victor sets down a glass of orange juice. I take a sip and gasp.

  “Did you just make this?”

  “Yeah,” he says, like it’s no big deal.

  “You’re gonna spoil me,” I say, and then I flush and look down at my plate. Bad girl, Frankie. Do not make the sexy man think you’re sticking around.

  10

  Prove Myself

  Vic comes back to the banquette, and this time he joins me. He’s got another omelette for himself, plus a stack of pancakes and a plate of bacon that he sets in the center of the table.

  I stare at him. “How did you make all of this so fast?”

  “Working in a restaurant, you get used to making a lot of different things at the same time. Eat up, babe.”

  I snag a piece of bacon, because bacon, yum. It’s perfect, crispy without being burned. “Oh my god,” I say, after I take a bite and savor it slowly, eyes closed. “Foodgasm.”

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth I cringe. I do have a certain tendency to say what I’m thinking, but it’s never been this bad before. I don’t dare look at Victor.

  He leans over until his mouth is next to my ear. “I like the way you eat what I give you, sunshine.” My face flames, but he’s not done. “Looking forward to watching you eat more.”

  “Vic—”

  “Shh,” he says, and gives me a quick, soft kiss that leaves my lips tingling. “Eat your breakfast.”

  Determined to get the conversation out of the innuendo zone, I say, “Where did you work before you took over the café? Or were you already there before your brothers bought it?”

  “No. I always liked to cook, but never thought of doing it full-time. Truth be told, I was a little wild in my younger days. Too restless to settle down to anything.”

  I take another bite of bacon, keeping my eyes open this time and resolutely stifling my moan. “So what did you do while you were not settling down?”

  “Some race car driving, some MMA fighting. A lot of traveling, picking up odd jobs wherever I found myself to make ends meet. Construction worker, nightclub bouncer, like that.”

  He eyes my plate, and I obediently fork up some more of my omelette and eat it before I ask another question. “It was the right time, then, when they bought the café? You were ready?”

  “Didn’t know I was,” he says musingly. His gaze is distant, focused somewhere in the past, before he looks at me again. “In retrospect — and they knew better than to say this to me at the time — I think my brothers bought the restaurant as much for me as their customers.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, hoping I’m not prying, but he did bring it up. I slide a pancake onto my plate and add some syrup, just to keep him talking.

  “I’d gotten back from traveling the globe, and I knew it was time to stop fucking around and do something with myself, but I didn’t know what.” He takes a slice of bacon, and I start on the pancake while I wait. “Part of me was frustrated, angry even — at myself, at the world. But mostly myself.”

  “Because you didn’t know what you should be doing?”

  “Yeah. My family — not just my own family, but the whole Adamo clan — they’re a lot of driven people, who know what they want and go after it. I felt like some kind of failure because I didn’t know what my thing was.”

  Before I can stop myself, my hand reaches out to curl around his wrist and give it a gentle squeeze. “I can relate. I don’t know what my thing is yet, either.”

  He doesn’t answer, and I start to withdraw, but he turns his palm up and laces our fingers together. It feels nice, and even though I know I should, I don’t pull away.

  “Rico did a master job of manipulating me into working at the café,” he goes on. “Laid this whole family guilt trip on me, how he and Dante couldn’t run it themselves, and they didn’t have time to go searching for a manager, so could I please take over as the interim manager until they had time to hire someone.”

  He shakes his head, a half-grin making him look young and boyish, and my heart flops over in my chest as he eats some of his omelette. “Having it be temporary and open-ended like that made it easy. I thought it would be a few weeks, maybe a few months, but right from the start I had a knack for it.

  “Not just the cooking. I knew that’d be fun, designing the dishes and figuring out what to feature. But the people side of things, too, dealing with customers and waitstaff and all that. Even figuring out how to get the best ingredients without spending a fortune. By the end of the first month, I started thinking about opening my own restaurant.”

  “But they hired you permanently instead?”

  “Not quite.” The crooked grin makes another appearance, and I get a funny feeling in my chest. “I told Rico I wanted the job; I figured it would be good experience before I did my own thing. He told me I’d have to prove myself.”

  11

  Promise Me

  “Really?” This is like a soap opera, kind of, and I’m riveted. “Prove yourself how?”

  “He had it all figured out. Benchmarks I’d have to hit, bringing in more customers, figuring out how to do marketing and social media. He put me on probation for a year, with some insane goals to hit by the time it was up.”

  “But you did it,” I say, having absolutely no doubt that it’s true.

  “Yeah. He knew I needed the challenge, needed to really work for it, put my heart into it, not just the time. And I did. By the end of that first year, Revved Café had gone from a hole-in-the-wall greasy spoon to the top-rated family
restaurant in town.”

  I actually bounce a little on the bench, excited for him — and, deep inside, proud of him — even years after the fact. He gives my hand a squeeze, and my heart flutters in my chest. “Did he make a big deal out of it when the year was up,” I ask, “or did you just go from being temporary to permanent?”

  “Oh, he didn’t hire me.” Vic gives me a wink. “He and Dante made me an owner. My brothers and I each have a third of Revved. In practice, Rico runs the garage, Dante the parts store, and me the café. But we all own all of it.”

  I grin at him. “That was pretty smart of Rico, that whole plan.”

  “Yeah. I would have punched his lights out — or tried to, anyway — if he’d laid it out for me, what he was doing. And we’ve never talked about it. But I owe him.”

  “I always wanted a brother,” I say wistfully.

  He arches a brow. “Not a sister?”

  “No. I was afraid a sister would be all girly and into makeup and clothes, not tearing engines apart. Of course, I might have gotten a brother who wanted to be a fashion designer. But the odds seemed better.”

  Except I’ll never have any siblings, ever. My dad is gone and I’m all alone in the world. I blink back sudden tears, ruthlessly suppressing the twinge of self-pity, and nudge my plate away.

  “All done?” Vic asks.

  “Yeah. Thanks for all the food.” I survey the table. “Sorry I couldn’t eat more.”

  “That’s all right; we’ll have leftovers.” He starts clearing the table, and I get up to help. After he shows me where the dishwasher is, I load it once he’s put the food away.

  “I need to go into the café for a little while,” Vic says. “The waitresses are good at keeping things running, but some stuff only I can deal with.”

  “Sure, of course. I’ll be fine.” I feel bad for keeping him from his job, plus some time alone will let me plan my getaway.

  We go out to the living room, where Carlo has left instructions on the new system. Vic shows me everything: the screen by the front door, the panel for punching in codes, where all the panic buttons are. Then he makes me memorize the codes and drills me until I can recite them all without hesitating.

  “Good,” he says at last. “Every hour, I want you to re-test yourself on the codes until you’re sure you have them cold. I’m burning this paperwork, so you need to have it all in your head.”

  “Okay.” I hope my guilt doesn’t show on my face. A system like this can’t be cheap. Once I’m settled somewhere and have money coming in, I’ll find a way to pay him back.

  “The cameras transmit straight to Carlo’s control room,” Vic says. “The guys there will see anyone approaching the house, but they’ll also see anyone going out.”

  “So they’ll see you when you leave.”

  “Right.” He gives me a look. “And if you get any hare-brained ideas about going somewhere, they’ll see that too.”

  I fold my arms. “What if I need something from the store?” That’s a plausible scenario — I need toiletries and clothes and all sorts of stuff.

  “Anything you need, you let me know and I’ll bring it home.” He cups my face with one big hand. “Francesca,” he says, and it wrenches at my heart, the way he says it. “Don’t give these assholes a shot at you. Stay here, stay safe.”

  “Vic—”

  His other arm goes around my waist and he pulls me to him. “Promise me.”

  12

  Just About Anything

  “Seriously, where would I go?” I say. “It’s not like you’re leaving me a car.”

  Victor’s grip tightens, his head lowers, and his mouth captures mine in a slow, seductive kiss. He doesn’t stop until my arms are around his neck and I’m moaning into his mouth. “Promise me, Francesca.”

  Pressing my forehead against his chest, I look down at the floor. I hate lying. “I promise.”

  “No,” he says, and tilts my head up with a finger under my chin. “You look me in the eye and give me your word.”

  I can’t. My lips press together, and I look away. “You need the bathroom?” Vic says.

  “What?” I say, startled by such a non sequitur.

  “Just answer the question.”

  I shrug. “Sure, I guess.”

  “Okay.” He turns me around and guides me down the hall to a bathroom. “Go ahead.” Baffled, I go in and shut the door. There are windows in here big enough to climb out of, but making a break for it while Victor’s right outside would be stupid, so I take care of business and come back out.

  Without a word, he takes me hand and leads me further down the hallway. “Vic, what are you doing?” When he doesn’t answer, I dig my heels in. “Vic!”

  For the second time that day, I find myself in a fireman’s hold over his shoulder. He carries me into a room that, when he bends down to rummage in a drawer, I can look around and see is clearly his bedroom. A trickle of unease worms its way down my spine. Did he decide to sex me into submission or something?

  I think that’s right when he tosses me on the bed and immediately covers me with his body, but something’s wrong because he’s not acting seductive. Two seconds later, I realize what it is when something clicks closed around my wrist.

  “Vic!” There’s another click, and then I’m handcuffed to the bedstead. I try to tug my hand free, and while I’m doing that he grabs my other wrist. Though I try to resist, he’s way too strong for me, and soon my other hand is cuffed too.

  The cuffs are lined with velvet, which gives me a naughty little thrill even as the situation infuriates me. But he’s not finished; going to the closet, he pulls out some neckties and binds my ankles too, leaving me spread-eagled on the bed.

  “Dammit, Vic, let me go!”

  He leans down until his face is just above mine. “All you had to give me was your word, Francesca.”

  Furious, I lift my head and sink my teeth into his lower lip. He turns it into a hot, hard kiss, then draws back. “You like it rough,” he says with a devilish gleam in his eye. “I’ll remember that.”

  Standing up, he backs away, still watching me. “I’ll send someone to check on you,” he says. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  “You’re going to have to leave me tied up forever,” I warn him. “Because as soon as you let me go I’m going to kill you.”

  He grins at me; I glare at him. “Be good,” he says, and turns to leave.

  “Vic, please.” I can’t help begging, even though I’d rather be raging.

  Turning back, he skewers me with a look that’s half wicked heat, half mischief, and all alpha. “You’re going to have to prove yourself to me,” he says. “When I get home, we can work on that.”

  “I hate you!” I yell as he walks away. He doesn’t answer. After a bit I hear the sound of numbers being punched into the security panel, and then the door opening and closing, and then there’s that stillness that only comes with an empty house.

  I’m not sure how long I lie there before the front door opens.

  A couple of hours, at least. Once I’d tugged and twisted enough to be certain I couldn’t get free, I lay there and created elaborate revenge scenarios.

  I hear numbers being punched into the keypad again, and then steps come down the hall. It doesn’t sound like Victor, but I’m not panicky, just pissed.

  Carlo appears in the doorway. He stops dead, looks at me for a long moment, then walks to the foot of the bed. I give him slitted eyes and no words.

  He crosses his massive arms over his broad chest, and his eyes look like he’s trying not to smile, but he manages to keep a straight face. “A man will do just about anything,” he says, “to protect a woman he cares about.”

  13

  Punching The Walls

  I roll my eyes. “He doesn’t care about me. He doesn’t even know me.”

  “I knew Gina mattered before I’d spent five minutes in her company.”

  Gina’s words about when she and Carlo met come back to me. I
have no answer, so instead I say, “He didn’t need to tie me up.”

  Carlo arches an eyebrow. “Did he or did he not ask you to promise you’d stay in the house, and did you or did you not refuse?”

  I look away. His voice lowers. “This isn’t a game, Frankie. You got people on your side now, but you go running around like there’s nothing wrong, you’re asking for trouble. We can’t be everywhere.”

  “I can’t stay here,” I blurt out.

  Moving around the end of the bed, Carlo sits down by me. “Why not?”

  “Because.” Lamest answer ever.

  “He was right, you know, when he said we’re in it now. There’s no point wishing we weren’t. This thing is bigger than you, doll. We’re talking about murder. Maybe corruption, bribery, blackmail, extortion.

  “We’re talking about a group who has no respect for human life, who thinks they can come into our territory and do what they want. Even if you didn’t exist, Frankie, now that we know what we know, we can’t let it go.

  “But you do exist, so part of what we have to do is keep you safe. Whether you like it or not.”

  “I hate that you make sense,” I say grouchily.

  “Does that mean you’re ready to promise?”

  I look at him, then away again, and heave out a sigh. “Okay, fine. I promise.”

  “Promise what?” Carlo says.

  I meet his eyes. “I promise not to leave the house.”

  “Unless one of us is with you,” he adds.

  I nod. “Unless one of you is with me.”

  “No matter what.”

  “No matter what,” I echo, and bare my teeth at him.

  His mouth twitches. “Okay.” He checks the nightstand, brings out a key, and unlocks my wrists, then helps me untie my ankles. I make a show of rubbing them even though they don’t really hurt.

  “I’ll let him know we talked,” Carlo says. I follow him to the front door, where he turns. “I’m trusting you. If you go back on your word, I’ll have to answer to Vic. Which means you’ll have to answer to both of us.”