by Andrea Joy
“And I thought I was the only promiscuous one in the office.”
He chuckles, fixing the cuffs of his shirt but whatever response he has gets cut off when Sheri knocks on my door again seconds before she pushes it open and gestures for Braxton and Alessandro to enter.
“Thank you, Sheri.”
She blushes a beautiful shade of red to rival that of her hair. Any other time I would’ve fantasized about seeing if other parts of her body turned the same shade while we played in one of the private rooms of the BDSM club. My gut clenches as my brain tries to replace images of Sheri at the club with Sofia, but I immediately dismiss them. Sofia is too good, too innocent for the club I helped start.
“I’m assuming that since you wanted to meet in my office that this is official business,” I start, folding my hands together on my desk.
Braxton sits across from my desk, Alessandro, his right-hand man sits next to him. They’re a picture of cool and calm except for the slight ticks in their jaws and Braxton’s fist clenching and unclenching like he wishes he had his hands wrapped around someone’s neck. I subconsciously run a finger along the collar of my dress shirt trying to loosen it a little and not visibly squirm in my seat. I’ve been the Famiglia’s lawyer for years, but I’ve also made friendships with these men. Regardless, when Braxton De Luca is in mafia boss mode, he’s a scary motherfucker.
“Braxton,” I start, gaining his attention, “why don’t you tell us what’s going on and why you needed both of us here.” I glance at Corey to my right, seeing him give a clipped nod in agreement.
“There’s a new detective in town,” Braxton says by way of explanation, but I’m still not following why this was cause for a meeting.
“I’m aware. He transferred over from Calgary last month. A detective Mickelson.”
“Are you also aware that he’s reopened the Belan case.” His voice is cold. His eyes deadly when his gaze connects with mine again.
Fuck.
Richard Belan was one of Klara’s closest friends before Dante, Braxton’s cousin, paid him to help kidnap and torture her. Braxton eventually caught up with him and made sure he paid dearly for his role in hurting Klara. I was paid to make the case go away and Richard’s death was deemed as an unfortunate diving accident.
If accident meant getting injected with pufferfish toxins after being subjected to multiple jellyfish stings. Then yeah, sure, it was an accident. Every day I hoped to god that I would never be the subject of Braxton De Luca’s rage.
But I had done my job, I had made the case go away. I worked with the detective on the De Luca payroll and we buried the shit out of that file. Somebody fucked up and dropped the ball, and I wasn’t going to stop until I found out who. I knew Braxton won’t be either.
I clear my throat before answering him. “I was not aware of this. Nobody outside of myself and Mr. Jasvins should’ve been able to access that file, but I’ll find out who fucked up.”
“I know you will, Mason, it’s why I pay you a fuck ton of money. I have my associates looking into this as well.”
He moves to stand, buttoning his suit jacket as he does so, and we all follow his lead like good little puppets. Braxton stops with a hand on the doorknob, turning slightly to look at me over his shoulder. “I’m counting on you to not fuck this up, Mason,” are his parting words before he pulls open the door to my office and strolls out like what we just found out won’t be the reason he gets sent to prison for the rest of his life.
If anyone found out that not just the Famiglia, but Braxton himself, was responsible for a college student’s death, there isn’t a whole lot that I can do that I haven’t already done. Not unless De Luca plans on paying off every single judge in the Greater Toronto Area, as well as every single detective who doesn’t give a rat’s ass who he is. Organized crime or not, if this shit gets made public knowledge… well, it won’t come to that. Braxton was right, he does pay me a fuck ton of money to make sure things like this go away.
“So,” Corey says behind me. “What’s the plan?”
“We need to find out why the new detective is so interested in Belan and make his interest disappear. Preferably before he connects De Luca to the case.”
Chapter Seven
SOFIA
5 years ago
“I like when you fight me, little girl,” he growls in my ear, his grip tightening around my wrists pinned above my head.
“I’m your sister, Dante.” I try to buck him off of me, but his hold tightens more. It’s dark in my room but he’s so close, his breath fans my face and I can feel the sinister grin split his face, his eyes are cold. Dead.
“Then I guess you better be fucking quiet, little girl,” he says, his fingers running up my inner thigh.
None of my cries, screams, or pleas get through to him. He doesn’t stop. Dante gets more excited the more I cry. He slaps a hand over my mouth every time I scream. I don’t know why. Our parents aren’t home tonight so it’s just us in the house. No one to hear my cries and screams.
“Dante, please. It hurts,” I sob when his hand slips away from my mouth momentarily.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Dante, please stop. Please…”
“Shut. Up.” His hand clamps down on my mouth again. Harder this time.
Tears stream down my cheeks faster, my brain screams at me to fight him harder, but I feel so weak right now. So defeated. It doesn’t matter how much I fight my big brother or how much I plea for him to stop, he won’t because this person laying above me, pinning me to my twin bed, is not my brother. He may look like him. He may sound like him, but it’s not him. This person is a monster.
Dante shifts his weight slightly, his hand slipping between our bodies until he’s…
“No,” I scream, but it’s muffled against the weight of his hand covering my mouth.
No. No. No.
I bolt up. Sweat dripping down my forehead, shaky hands grip my comforter. It’s the same nightmare – the same memory– I’ve had every night since it happened, and it hasn’t changed. Not even after I found out that Braxton killed Dante years ago. I even sat front row at his funeral. I had to make sure the sick fuck was really gone. I had to see it with my own eyes. I wish my memories of that part of my childhood would have been buried with him. Even though I’m glad he’s no longer walking this earth, it’s not fair that he’s gone and I’m stuck with these memories.
I slam the door on thoughts of Dante and grab a change of clothes before heading for a shower and then downstairs following the delicious scent of freshly brewed coffee.
“Is there more of that?” I ask entering the kitchen where Klara just got finished pouring herself a cup of coffee.
She turns to me, smiling. “There’s plenty.”
“Hi, baby girl,” I say to Lily, leaning down to press a kiss to her head, taking a second to breath in the baby scent of her shampoo.
I have to swallow back the emotions clogging up my throat at missing another little one. I can’t think of that right now because if I do, I’ll want to get on the next plane, but I promised Ciaran I would try and spend some time with my family so that’s what I’m going to do. He also promised to send me lots of pictures and FaceTime me every night. That needs to be enough for now. After all, I’m only here for another couple days.
“Do you need help with breakfast?”
Just as the question leaves my lips, Lily pounds her fists on the top of her tray sending cheerios everywhere. Her bright blue eyes ping up to mine and then to the floor beside her chair. She tries to reach over the side, her little fingers wiggling back and forth like she’s trying to use the force to pick up the lost cheerios. Laughing, I squat down to pick up the lost ones. When I stand back up, Lily reaches out for them, babbling happily.
“Sorry, baby girl. These are yucky. I’ll get you more.”
Lily continues her unintelligible babble as I toss the cheerios in the garbage bin under the sink and wash my hands. Afterward I head into the pant
ry and grab the box of cheerios from the cereal shelf, pouring a little in a blue plastic bowl and carrying it back over to her. When she’s happily munching on her breakfast again, I take the seat beside her highchair and sip my coffee.
“Where’s my princess?” My cousin’s voice booms down the hallway followed by the slam of the front door.
Lily squeals so loud beside me, I think I’m actually deaf now. She bounces in her chair, her hands reaching out for her daddy as she wildly kicks her feet even before he’s in view.
“Hi Princess,” my cousin coos, sweeping his daughter out of her highchair and into his arms.
Lily mashes a hand full of soggy cheerios against his lips and without flinching, Braxton eats them all, acting like he’s going to eat her hand too which sends her into a fit of giggles. If two years ago, someone had told me that my cousin would be happily married to the love of his life and with a daughter, I would’ve laughed in their face and said they didn’t know Braxton De Luca. But the evidence is in front of me. I haven’t seen him this happy in… well, since before his dad died, and he took over the family business.
With his daughter on his hip, happily tugging at his hair, he steps up behind his wife, wraps an arm around Klara’s belly and kisses her temple. The love shining in Klara’s eyes when she looks up at her husband and daughter kicks me square in the gut. I want that. I want to look at someone like that and have someone look at me the same way. If I’m being honest, I want Mason to look at me that way.
“You okay, Sof?” Braxton asks, putting Lily back in her chair and taking the seat on the other side of her.
“Yeah.” Clearing my throat, I paste on a smile and take another drink of my coffee while trying not to squirm under my cousin’s assessing gaze. It doesn’t matter that I grew up with Braxton and should be immune to his different looks, he still has the ability to make me shrink in on myself.
Somebody bumps into me from the side, jostling the hand holding my drink making it splash onto on the table in front of me, but I don’t pay the spilt alcohol or the person beside me any attention because it’s currently locked onto the man standing a few feet away.
It’s been two years since the last time I saw him. He looks good. The stubble he used to sport is grown out to a beard now and it’s speckled with grey. The sleeves of his navy dress shirt are rolled to above his elbows, his suit jacket is thrown over a forearm while his other hand is stuffed into the pocket of his dark slacks. A silver watch glistens in the low lights of the bar.
“Sof. Sofia!”
“Huh. What?”
My best friend giggles beside me, nudging me in the arm with her shoulder. “Who’s the hottie?”
I blink, tearing my gaze from Mason to Deb. “No one.”
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but I can see the interest shining in her grey eyes and I’ll be damned if she gets her hands on him. Deb is an equal opportunist. Man. Woman. Single. Married. She doesn’t give a fuck. If they tickle her fancy, she’ll sleep with them. She’s even been known to sleep with a couple every now and then. I love her, I do, but sometimes she can be a bit much. Just because I can’t have Mason doesn’t mean that I’ll happily move over so that she can have a shot.
“Didn’t look like no one. You were practically eye fucking him.”
“I was not,” I huff, taking a drink of the fruity cocktail, ignoring the stickiness clinging to the glass and my fingers from where it spilled over. I’m going to feel these drinks in the morning. I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in just under two years.
Deb eyes me and I try to act like I’m invested in the conversation going on around us. Until she leans over and whispers, “Maybe I’ll go see if he’s into some Daddy action.”
The drink I just took goes down the wrong pipe and I sputter and cough until I can breathe again, throwing a hand out to clamp down on her arm when she begins to gather her purse. Deb grins knowingly and sits back down.
“Who is he?” She asks again, and I sigh, figuring if I don’t at least give her something she will follow through on her comment about finding out if he subscribes to the Daddy kink fetish.
“He’s a friend of my cousin’s,” I say, but don’t go into detail. It’s not a lie anyway.
A quick glance around the crowded bar tells me he’s no longer inside. I finally spot him through the front window, head bowed. I’m assuming looking at his phone. “I, uh, I’ll be right back,” I tell Deb and push back my chair. The look she gives me says that she doubts I will, but she’d be wrong. Mason made it perfectly clear the last time we saw each other that he wasn’t interested in me.
I grab my leather jacket off the back of my chair and shrug it on as I make my way to the door of the pub and outside. Tonight, is colder than normal for summer in Toronto. The wind has picked up some tonight too.
“Hey,” I say, approaching where he stands on the sidewalk.
“Sofia,” he greets, but it’s flat like he was hoping I would have stayed inside and not followed him out here. His eyes slide to behind my shoulder. “You should get back to your friends.”
Anger, hot and fast, courses through my body at his dismissal. “Alright, no need to be an asshole.”
I turn to head back into the bar, but Mason’s hand shoots out to take hold of my hand, stopping me and spinning me back around to face him.
“Let me take you home.”
Yanking my arm out of his hold, I glance around us at the people streaming out of the bars and restaurants along the street. Pulling my jacket tighter around me I turn to fully face him.
“I’m not ready to leave my friends yet. I’ll catch a cab back to Braxton’s later,” I tell him. I’m not sure why, though. I’m not even sure why he offered or why he cares.
Mason blows out a harsh breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Over the years, I’ve noticed that he does this a lot, especially when he’s frustrated. A small part of me is giddy that I’m able to untether him so much.
“Sofia, it’s late and you’ve clearly had enough to drink.”
“How would you know? Have you been watching me?”
I drop my arms, the momentum momentarily causing my body to sway. Mason darts a hand out to steady me and pulls me closer to him and out of the way of the passerby’s I almost backhanded accidentally. Huh, guess I had way more to drink than I thought.
“I’m—” The words die on my tongue when I peer up at him and realize just how close we actually are. My hand flat on his chest, his palm pressed into my lower back.
My heart rate kicks up. My breathing coming in fast, shallow pants as my eyes slides down his face to linger on his lips. I still remember the way those lips felt on mine two years ago. Unconsciously, I lick along my bottom lip and pull a corner between my teeth. Mason groans, the sounds reverberating beneath the palm of my hand. And then his other hand is in the hair at the back of my neck and he’s leaning down to pull my lip from between my teeth with his own. The move so erotic that it has my body perking up to pay attention. It remembers what it felt like to have Mason nip and suck up and down my body all those years ago. When he moves to pull back, I follow him with my mouth. Eager to feel his lips on mine again. Needing it. Wanting to taste him again.
“I want you so much.” The words are out before I can think to stop them.
Mason turns to stone beneath my touch, but I’m not ready to have him pull away yet. To break whatever spell has fallen on us. I reach up with my other hand and curl it around his neck, dragging his lips back down to mine. I kiss him. And I don’t stop kissing him until he kisses me back. I can feel him growing hard against my thigh. I pull myself up closer to his body and wrap my arms around his neck, standing on my tippy toes to get as close to his mouth as I can. His arms wrap like vines around my back, holding me in place as he devours my mouth. His tongue tangling with mine and sucking it into his mouth. Fuck, he tastes so good. Like the expensive wine you know you can’t afford but order it anyways.
“Plea
se,” I beg against his lips when we’re forced to come up for air. “I need you, Mason. It’ll be our secret. I’ll be your dirty little secret,” I add in a new whisper, and immediately regret it when he straightens, forcing me to loosen my hold around his shoulders and drop back down on my feet.
When he steps out of my hold, the wanton look I saw his in eyes a few minutes ago is replaced with cold indifference. He shrugs on the jacket that was still folded over his arm and does up the two buttons before tipping his chin behind me to indicate the pub where my friends still sit.
“Go back inside, Sofia. My driver will be here to take you home when you’re done.” And then without another word, he turns and begins walking down the sidewalk.
I’m frozen in the same spot for several minutes, still watching the direction he disappeared down even after he’s out of sight and I can no longer see his head above the Friday night crowd.
“Sof! You coming back in or what?” Deb calls from behind me, hanging out the frosted glass door.
I press two fingers to my kiss swollen lips and then with a reluctant nod, paste on a smile, and turn back to the bar.
“Yeah. I’m coming.”
The next morning Klara picks me up from Deb’s parent’s house just outside of Richmond Hill. After Deb and I were done at the pubs, we left the boys and let Mason’s driver take us back to her house. He protested at first, claiming he had strict orders from Mr. James to take me to Mr. De Luca’s residence but after a little persuading from Deb and I, he conceded. I feel bad for putting the poor man in such a predicament, but I’m tired of taking orders from Mason James.
Klara and Braxton had offered to pick me up from the airport after I landed, but I knew Deb and the others were already going to be here and I’m not ashamed to admit that I wanted to see my friends before being secluded away at my cousin’s house.
I met Deb and the guys my first week in California two years ago. I was trying to come up with a new dress design at a local library when Deb appeared beside me and thrust a nerf gun into my hands.