Seeking Vengeance: Possessive Mafia Romance (Hunting - Mafia Romance Book 1)

by Eden Summers

  “We should really discuss the Costas before we become sidetracked again.” I lick the dryness from my lips. “I’m not going to lie. Our common interest in them is another reason why I’m here.”

  “I figured as much.” He leans back in his chair, the confident seduction leaving his expression. “But they’re not going anywhere. Why not enjoy getting to know each other first?”

  Why not? Because I don’t deserve the pleasure.

  Because I need to focus on my mistakes.

  His lips curve, the wickedness returning to his eyes. “Let’s make a deal—once you think the chemistry between us is fading, we can divert our focus to scheming.”

  “Once I think…? What about you?”

  He grins, sly and handsome. “It won’t fade for me.”

  That has to be a lie.

  Before I can question him on it, a muffled beep sounds from his suit jacket.

  He drags in a long breath and retrieves his cell. “I need to take this call.” His brows pinch in apology. “I won’t be long.”

  I nod and grab for my own device on the table, reluctantly turning it over to read the screen as Matthew walks away.

  Five missed calls.

  Two texts.

  My chest tightens. Every notification will be from my family. More regrettably, my brother.

  I open my inbox, the preview of the most recent message hitting my eyes.

  Answer your fucking…

  I shouldn’t open it. The time away from them has been a wonder drug of positivity. Unfortunately, curiosity gets the better of me.

  Answer your fucking phone and help sort this out like a fucking adult. The least you can do is let us know you’re all right. Your sister is worried sick.

  My sister… but not him.

  Do you think this is a joke, Layla? We still have enemies. You still need to tell me where the fuck you are so I can make sure you’re safe.

  He doesn’t care about my safety. His concerns lie with the chess pieces that will topple if anyone successfully targets me. It would make him look bad. Weak.

  But he’s right about Keira. I don’t want her to worry.

  I dial my sister’s number, my ribs tightening with the dial tone, my breath halting when she answers.

  “Layla?” There’s panic in her voice. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just need some space.”

  “Where are you? Hunter found your car at the airport.”

  Of course he did.

  “It doesn’t matter.” I reach for my wine, needing the alcoholic calm. “I’m safe. That’s all you need to know.”

  “Lay, please, you’re freaking me out. Why are you acting this way? I know it’s been hard on you since Stella moved away, but it doesn’t mean you’re alone. I’m here for—”

  “Don’t say you’re here for me, Keira.” I cut her off. “We both know that’s not true.”

  “W-what do you mean? You’re my sister. I’m always here if you need me.”

  I shake my head, pained by the lies. “I haven’t been your sister since the night Benji died and you know it.”

  She gasps. “Is that how you really feel?”

  “It’s two years later and you can barely look at me after what I did.”

  “No,” she pleads. “I’m sorry if you think I haven’t forgiven you—”

  “You haven’t. None of you have.”

  “That’s not the case, Layla. It’s just different now. Things changed. Everything changed. There was my relationship with Sebastian, then the news of what our father had been doing. Then what happened to Richard. It was an avalanche of adjustment even before Dad died. Then Tobias entered our lives and everything became chaos. And Benji…” She sighs. “I guess in the aftermath, I inched away from everyone and hid in the comfortable world I’d built with Sebastian because it was easier.”

  She might like to believe that story, but it’s a lie.

  She pulled away from me. From what I did. Just like Cole, Sarah, Hunter, Decker, and even Luca, too. They made me a pariah. And although it was initially deserved, I didn’t earn a lifetime of this suffering.

  “I haven’t held it against you,” she whispers. “I want you to be happy.”

  “You want me to be happy—you just have such a low opinion of me that you think I’m weak enough to be with a man who would hit me.”

  “Jesus Christ. You can’t blame us for making assumptions when you’re deliberately being secretive. You keep escaping out of town without letting anyone know and not using your credit cards to make yourself untraceable. Even now, you took off after withdrawing a whole heap of cash. What are we supposed to think?”

  I glance out the window, heartbroken and needing to diffuse the conversation, while being angry and itching to blow it up at the same time. “Forgive me for not wanting to be stalked like a fugitive. Two years ago, my husband was taken from me. Now my daughter has been shipped away. I had to find something to distract myself from a house that has become hauntingly quiet. It’s goddamn lonely, Keira.”

  “But why hide where you’re going?” she asks softly. “You had to know your actions would spark Cole’s paranoia.”

  “Maybe I want to be free from our family for a little while… Maybe I want to pretend I’m someone else.” Someone who doesn’t have skeletons to hide and mistakes to resolve.

  “I can understand that. I’ve thought the same thing many times. It’s the—”

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I interrupt as Matthew returns to the table, his raised brow questioning whether I’m okay. “I only called to check in and now I’ve gotta go. Tell our brother to stop contacting me. I want to be left alone.”

  “Layla—”

  I disconnect, not waiting for her response, and place the cell face down on the table.

  Matthew takes his seat, his jaw tight. “What happened?”

  “It’s nothing. Just family drama.” I grab my cloth napkin and place it over my lap, unable to maintain eye contact.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  I can’t share those parts of my life with him, no matter how much I want to. “Honestly, it’s nothing.”

  “Honestly, amore mio, I can tell that’s not true.” He reaches over the table, sliding his hand out for me to take.

  I stare at the offering. The lifeline.

  I want nothing more than to take it. To latch on. Cling tight.

  “That was my sister on the phone.” I raise my gaze and paste on a fake smile. “My family don’t appreciate me disappearing to places unknown. Apparently, they can’t stop me from making careless mistakes if they don’t know where I am.”

  “Are you prone to making mistakes?”

  “Yes,” I admit. “I’ve made a few. I’ve trusted people I shouldn’t and paid the price.”

  He appraises me for a moment, his weighty consideration stripping me bare. “Trust is a favorable quality to most. Would we be here together without it?”

  No. But my husband would be alive and my daughter would live without nightmares if I’d been more hesitant when offering my faith.

  “My family is different.” I slide my hand to meet his, our fingertips kissing on top of the table. “We usually function in our own little utopia, so it’s hard when things go wrong.”

  “I’m sure they’ll forgive you.”

  I scoff a laugh. “It’s been two years.”

  “Damn.” His eyes narrow. “Well, I’m glad you’re here with me instead. Did you tell them where you are?”

  “No. And I’ve been using cash so they can’t track my whereabouts through the bank, but my brother will find another way eventually.”

  He pulls his arm back, sitting straighter. “He’s trying to track you?”

  Shit. I’ve said too much. “It’s not that extreme.”

  His chin raises, his posture growing tense. “I should speak to him.”

  “No.” God, no. I press my lips tight to suppress a delirious laugh. Cole would kill him on
sight. “It’s not as bad as it seems. We have joint accounts. Any purchase I made through a credit card would announce my location.”

  “You don’t need to worry about money while you’re here. I’ll take care of it.”

  This time I’m the one to reach farther across the table, my fingers seeking his. “I appreciate the offer, but I withdrew enough before I left to tide me over until I return home. I can look after myself.”

  “Believe me, you’ve demonstrated that without fault.” His hand finds mine again, the calloused palm skating over my knuckles. “The thought of taking care of you brings me pleasure.”

  I blush, my mind sliding into the gutter. “You’re doing that just fine without any financial contribution.”

  He laughs, the utterly brilliant sound tickling every sensitive part of me. “Why don’t we get our dinner to go and take this conversation back to the penthouse?”

  My pulse increases, the fluttering wings of arrhythmia swooping through my limbs. “Will we be merely conversing, Mr. Langston?”

  He grins, smooth and flawlessly seductive. “No, amore mio, but a lot of my plans involve what I can do with my mouth.”

  21

  Layla

  One night swoons into another, each romantic evening meal distracting me from the reason why we met.

  Sometimes Matthew is gone when I wake. At other times he remains in bed, his arm wrapped possessively around my waist like I’m a priceless treasure. And no matter how much he’s at work, he always makes me his priority.

  His out-of-town trips never last overnight. We either spend hours together in the morning or the evening, and it’s never enough. Not with the way he listens intently whenever I speak, or how he continues to offer exaggerated, outlandish promises for our future that make me ponder if they could actually become reality.

  Could we forge a life together even though we’re still yet to talk about the common goal that made our paths cross in the first place?

  The days have passed with the Costas not being more than a passing word. Neither of us seem ready to fizzle the sparks between us by bringing up the elephant in the room, even though it needs to be discussed sooner rather than later.

  We’ve kept our truce in place regarding personal information. He gives me space when I call Stella. He doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t demand insight I’m not willing to give. But every day my walls grow fragile, tiny fissures forming to allow slips of my life to spill free.

  “Get dressed, amore mio.” Matthew walks into the bedroom from his private bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, his muscles glistening from the shower. “You’re coming to work with me today.”

  I sit taller in his bed, the tray loaded with my empty breakfast plate rattling on my lap. “I am?”

  “Yes. My commitments won’t take long.” He discards the towel and pulls on a fresh pair of boxer briefs from the chest of drawers. “Then we can do whatever you like afterward. I’ll arrange a hotel room for the night. You just need to pack a change of clothes and your toothbrush.”

  I pull back the covers and glide to my feet, not showing a hint of curiosity at learning more about his life while trying to hide my fear of what he wants from me in return. “When are we leaving?”

  “As soon as you’re dressed.”

  “I guess that’s my cue to hustle.”

  I shower quickly, brush my teeth, and paint on a subtle layer of makeup in record time. Then I shimmy into a long ruby sundress and fill the remaining space in the small suitcase Matthew left open for me on the bed.

  “Ready?” He stands at the bedroom door, one shoulder cocked against the frame, a subtle smirk of appreciation tweaking his lips as he takes in the loose material dancing over my legs and the low neckline that cradles my breasts.

  “Ready.” My heart beats a dull throb, my eyes eagerly eating up my view of him dressed head to toe in black—suit, shirt, tie.

  He’s a dark prince, the stubble covering his jaw making him appear all the more devilish.

  He pushes from the doorframe and prowls toward me, slow and sleek.

  My body melts like it always does. My nerves flutter. I stand still, wondering if his predatory approach means we’re about to delay our departure.

  He stops beside me, the grin continuing to linger as he leans around me to zip the suitcase closed and drag it to the carpet. “We don’t have time, amore mio.”

  “Time for what?” I purr.

  “For that look in your eye.”

  He kisses my temple and takes my hand, leading me from the room, from the penthouse, then into the elevator, our mini suitcase trailing along at his side. When we reach the underground parking lot, Bishop is there to steal my buzz. He waits in his idling Lincoln, the window lowered, his arm resting on the frame.

  “Morning.” He scowls at me.

  “Morning.” I hold his gaze, refusing to cower under the intimidation.

  “Get in.” Matthew releases my hand. “I’ll put the suitcase in the back.”

  I nod, bathing in Bishop’s death glower with every step toward the rear door, then slide inside. I’ve been lucky not to have seen him since our confrontation almost a week ago. He hasn’t been to the penthouse. There’s been no talk of him at all.

  Too bad it didn’t last.

  “It’s so lovely to see you again,” I drawl. “What have you been up to?”

  “Just the same ol’ same ol’—preparing for when my buddy’s latest conquest is going to blow shit up and make my life a living hell.”

  I glare at him through the rearview mirror as Matthew opens the cargo space to store our suitcase. I wait until the trunk door is closed moments later before I say, “Well, if you’re the cleanup crew, I guess I should make sure it’s a worthwhile explosion.”

  Matthew climbs in the opposite side of the Lincoln, and I’m not sure whether it’s his presence or my spite that keeps Bishop quiet. But that’s how things remain as the car exits the parking lot into the midmorning sunshine.

  We drive through the city traffic, Matthew’s hand gliding over mine on the middle seat as we pass block after block, then head onto a freeway to take us toward the suburbs. I relax, expecting a long journey ahead when twenty minutes later, Bishop slows into the turn to send us to Dulles Airport.

  We bypass the parking area, driving away from the main buildings and alongside the boundary fence, then come to a temporary stop before metal gates that are opened for us by a young man. Bishop inches the car into the airport yard, slowly passing one metal hangar, then another.

  “What are we doing?” I ask.

  “It’s time for a change of transport.” Matthew caresses my fingers as Bishop breaks and shifts the car to park.

  A whisper of something unwanted slips through me, the lifelong teaching of a paranoid and overly protective brother ringing in my ears.

  You’re being careless. You’re putting us all in danger.

  No. I know Matthew.

  I might not have intimate knowledge of the events that make up his life, but I know him. I know his unwavering commitment. His building affection.

  That’s why I didn’t ask how far we were travelling. Or who was coming with us.

  I’ve learned to trust him—with my body, and now, also, my safety.

  “I’ll get the luggage.” Bishop climbs from the driver’s seat, the engine idling as he lobs the fob at the young man who opened the gates.

  All I can do is watch in silence while I force Cole’s voice from my mind.

  “You’re nervous.” Matthew’s hand slides from mine. “Are you questioning my intentions again? You don’t have to accompany me, Layla. I can have you taken back to the penthouse.”

  “I’m not questioning you.” My heart hurts at the disappointment in his features.

  “You’re apprehensive.”

  I could claim a fear of flying. Hell, it wouldn’t be difficult to make up any number of reasons to explain the devil on my shoulder.

  Instead, I give him what he deserve
s. “I’ve told you my brother doesn’t appreciate my current secrecy. If he was aware I was about to jet set to places unknown with someone he’s unfamiliar with, he’d judge me harshly.”

  Matthew’s jaw ticks. “It sounds like he judges you harshly regardless.”

  I don’t deny it. I want him to understand that part of me. The part that may affect him the most. “He does.”

  “He’s controlling,” he adds.

  I don’t deny that either.

  The trunk door opens and Bishop steals my focus as he removes not one but two suitcases from the cargo area. Of course the asshole is still coming with us.

  “Do you want me to arrange a driver?” Matthew asks as the trunk door closes. “The last thing I want to do is—”

  “No, I’m excited to go with you. I promise. I just hadn’t anticipated your meeting to be far enough away to require a plane.” I unclasp my belt and smile. “You’re not taking me to Paris, are you?”

  He huffs a breath of lifeless laughter. “No. We’ll have to do that trip another day. And we’re not taking a plane either.”

  I’m about to ask for clarification when he swings his door wide and escapes the car to round the hood.

  I follow, climbing from the back seat as a loud mechanical whir fills the rustling fall breeze, the sound coming from the other side of the hangar to my left.

  “We’re taking a helicopter?” I meet Matthew at the hood of the car but fall quiet, not wanting to interrupt the younger man who’s relaying departure and arrival details as the unmistakable whoop, whoop floods my ears, the rush of energy growing around us.

  I bite my lip, struggling from the whiplash of flipping from apprehension to exhilaration.

  “I hope you’re not scared of heights.” Matthew steps away from the chatter to wrap an arm around my waist.

  “I’m not. But how far are we going?”

  “Virginia Beach. Is that a problem?”

  I wince, wishing I hadn’t shown my temporary slip of confidence in the car, the hesitation now gone as if it never existed. “I’m sorry.” My voice barely carries over the air chopping around us. “I…”