"Thank you, Mike," I whispered in relief.
"Don't thank me," he grunted, tapping on the roof of the car before backing away. "Just use my number."
Six
Lino
I sat behind my desk, staring at the screen as if it would manifest a report from Campbell. It hadn't even been ten hours since I'd set him on Connor Walsh, so expecting him to have found something groundbreaking in that time was ridiculous and impatient. Even for me.
It was late, another late night at Indulgence, although it was a Tuesday and not as busy as Thursday through Saturday. The window at my back showed the club floor, the door to my office closed to keep the music out.
I didn't want to deal with anyone's shit.
I didn't want to be there at all, but I'd been putting in extra hours so I could step back and let the managers step up more and hire a new one to oversee. With Matteo's permission, we'd decided that Indulgence was ready for me to be less involved with the day-to-day operations and add it into my more passive business interests where I acted as the distant owner, even though Matteo was technically the owner of all the Bellandi properties.
My conversation with Samara's next-door neighbor earlier in the day had not gone well. I'd thought it would be easy enough to visit the woman and pry gently into the last few days of Samara's marriage. If there was nothing to hide, it should have been that simple. So the fact it had been anything but left me feeling restless and aggravated. She'd given me nothing.
Not a fucking thing.
Closed up like she guarded the most precious treasures along with Samara's secrets, and under different circumstances I would have appreciated the loyalty she showed my woman. Just not when that loyalty stood in my way.
The knock at the door sounded, and I turned away from the spreadsheet I was neglecting on my computer with my inability to focus. "Open." Enzo stepped in, closing it behind him. "What did you find?" I asked without preamble.
He sighed, dropping into the chair so suddenly I thought it might break under his weight. "Nothing. The woman doesn't have any skeletons in her closet that would make her dislike the Bellandi name."
"Then why the Hell wouldn't she talk to me?" I grunted, dropping my head forward to rub at my eyes.
"Did it occur to you that maybe you intimidated her? Walking up to her house in your suit and tie and looking like you own Chicago, throwing around the Bellandi name the way you did? From what I've seen, she's sharp as a tack." Enzo argued, amusement sparking in his face as he stared at my annoyance. Even with him though, hidden beneath the veneer of entertainment, I could see the gears turning.
He knew Samara vaguely. Knew of her more. Knew enough to know that if she was keeping secrets from me and Yavin, it had to be bad. "The woman didn't even blink when I told her I was a friend of Samara's. She knew damn well who I was before I introduced myself and was ready to slam the door in my face the second she laid eyes on me. What the fuck kind of trouble has Samara gotten herself into that she wouldn't come to me for help?"
The look of apprehension that crossed his face was completely terrifying. "Maybe she's not in trouble at all," he said hesitantly. "Have you considered that, you know, maybe she's dating someone and just isn't ready to have you and Yavin breathing down his neck?" I felt the snarl that graced my face, even before Enzo's uncomfortable chuckle filled the room.
I looked away from him, casting my gaze down to the crowd of people dancing. If I wanted, I could have gone down to the floor and had my pick of women to bring up and have my way with. But I didn't want that, because for the first time in my life, having Samara was a distinct possibility. If I'd been celibate for months on end and found out she'd been dating, I'd lock her up and throw away the key.
There was nothing that I would let stand in my way of claiming my woman finally.
No one.
Not even Samara herself.
"She's not dating," I said definitively. The alternative was just not worth considering. Because I wouldn't be responsible for what I would do if I had to go back to the knowledge that someone else had put his hands on my woman, and worse, that I'd allowed it in my desire to have her divorced before I made her mine.
Like a fucking idiot.
I decided at that moment that regardless of Samara's wishes, I would step into her divorce proceedings. A little poke to the right judge, and I'd owe a small favor. It would be entirely worth it to have Samara in my bed where she belonged. Where she'd always belonged.
"I just want you to be prepared for all the possibilities here. You're all ready to go charging in like a white knight and rescue her, but there could be another explanation," Enzo said carefully. He stood from the chair, rounding it and making his way to the door. The man was intuitive enough to know that his final blow would set me over the edge, that I wouldn't want to even look at him until the morning at the very least. "She could just not feel the same way."
"I'm no white knight," I huffed a laugh, even as rage built inside me. The woman had me turned inside out, and I hadn't even kissed her yet. Had never had the pleasure of feeling her lips on mine, and yet she'd had me wrapped around her finger since I'd been ten years old.
"I know that, but does she?" Enzo asked, and then he opened the door and disappeared through it, leaving me to my thoughts.
He left me with the agonizing thoughts about what expectations Samara might have about a relationship with me. She wasn't like Ivory, thankfully. I'd made no secret what the Bellandi family did, but she also knew that I ran the legitimate businesses and that her brother worked that side with me.
She probably did not understand that I wouldn’t just ask her on a date, had no clue I planned to insert myself in every facet of her life as soon as she was divorced. Likely the night the divorce was final. I was the one who first greeted her every morning, even though it meant setting my alarm for hours earlier than I needed to wake up. I was the one who snuggled with her on the couch when she had cramps and the one who rubbed her feet when she killed them wearing heels to work.
I was the one who took care of her, who sheltered her and encouraged her hopes and dreams.
Me. Not Connor.
Because she always had been, and she always would be mine.
No matter what a piece of paper said.
Seven
Samara
Lino’s oversized band tee hung nearly to my knees, the name of his favorite band stretched over my chest loosely. Having showered off the slimy feeling that the man from the Bird Lounge had left me with from only the simplest of nearly harmless touches, I couldn't wait to crawl into bed and sleep what remained of the night away.
But as I left my bathroom, toweling my hair dry as I walked, I thought I glimpsed light from the open doorway. Snatching my glasses off the nightstand quickly, I shoved them onto my face to confirm that I wasn't on edge and paranoid. I grabbed my phone in one hand, the bat I tucked under my bed in the other and crept into the hallway slowly.
As quietly as I could.
My bare feet padded across the floor, thoroughly dried and giving me the traction I needed to get through the hall without a sound. The light came from my office, the office I hadn't set foot inside all day, and as I peered around the doorway to peek inside, I knew why.
Connor knelt beside my desk, ticking away at the digital safe as he tried to guess the code. I hefted the bat up higher, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. "What the fuck is it you think you're doing?" I asked, stepping into the doorway. I held the bat in my hands tightly, channeling all the fear I felt into that grip. I wouldn’t let him come into my home and scare me, wouldn’t show him that what he’d done still woke me up at night.
Barely sparing me a glance, he punched the safe in frustration before turning his full attention to me. "Rowe always gives you a huge bonus for the holiday. I need the money."
"And you thought I'd keep thousands of dollars in cash sitting in a safe in my home? He's not a criminal, Connor. He pays me by direct deposit like any normal emplo
yer." I rolled my eyes, unable to believe that I hadn't been able to see his descent into desperation for exactly what it was during our marriage. He'd been smart, attractive, charming. What remained of him was nothing like the man I'd married, nothing but a shadow of the addiction that plagued him.
"No, that's just the guy you spread your legs for like the good little whore you always were." He stood, unfolding his suit clad body to leer down at me.
I bit my tongue, because arguing that I wasn't Lino's whore and never would be was pointless. He hadn't gotten it through his head in our nearly five years of marriage, and he wouldn't learn now that we separated. "Just get the fuck out," I hissed. "Or I'll call the cops and tell them exactly why we're getting a divorce."
"The cops ain't gonna come and kick me out of my house, Samara," he laughed. "My money pays for it."
"We both know your money hasn't paid for jack shit in years," I argued, stepping aside from the office door in a clear invitation for him to leave. "Besides, we had a deal. You stay the fuck away from me, and I don't press rape charges and stain your precious family name with something 'unsavory' like that." He stepped around the desk, and I held in the tremble that threatened to take over my body. I wouldn't let him see what being near him did to me, wouldn't let him know that having him in my home with no one else to interfere was enough to make my pulse race. I just wanted him out of my space.
"I need that money, Mara," he whispered, something in his voice cracking. I ignored the moment of pity I felt, knowing that it was just another ploy to play on my compassion, on the fact that I had at one point loved him.
"Save your self-pity for someone who gives a shit. That isn't me anymore," I whispered, gesturing him out the door with a nod of my head. He nodded, twisting his lips in a way that communicated that I wouldn't like his next words.
I should have expected it. Should have seen the madness playing just beneath the surface of his calm.
But I didn't, and I barely had time to hit him in the torso with the bat when he reached out for me. "Fucking bitch!" he grunted, grabbing the bat in his hand and yanking it out of my grip to toss it to the side. "You will get me that money. You owe me for all the years I tolerated you fucking around on me."
"You're delusional," I yelled, taking a step back and tugging at where he held my forearm in a bruising grip. "Let go of me!" The panic in my voice might have horrified me under different circumstances, might have made me think twice. I didn't want him to hear it, but I knew I wouldn't survive another rape.
The first one had nearly broken me.
With a twist of his body, he flung me to the floor of the office, so I landed on my stomach and scrambled to get to my feet. The way he chuckled behind me made a rock settle in my stomach. "Where's your precious Lino now?" he hissed, and I flipped over to my back and scooted back away from him in the face of that sound.
When he straddled my hips, I felt a single moment of relief that he wasn't forcing my legs apart. That his fingers weren't prying my legs open to take what I wouldn't give. That relief fled with a sharp gasp when both his hands wrapped around the front of my throat and pressed down, squeezing until my vision went hazy, and I couldn't get a single breath. I kicked my legs, bucked my hips. But there was no reprieve.
No air.
He'd kill me. I knew it wouldn't be long before everything went black.
"You're going to be a good girl and get me everything you have in your account, aren't you, baby?" I tried to nod, tried to speak past the rock in my throat that let nothing pass. His hands tightened further, punctuating the affectionate term I’d hated every time he used it with a squeeze that made my head spin and darkness creep in at the edges of my vision. "I'll be back for it tomorrow and if you don’t have it, I’ll find another way to make that money off you. You understand?" I tried again, heaving in a deep, shuddering breath that made my body heave with coughs when he released me. "Good girl," he sighed, standing to his feet and straightening his suit like he hadn't nearly killed me.
I didn't watch him leave, but somehow heard the path of his footsteps as he made his way down the stairs, even as my ears rang and the feeling returned to my body like being stabbed with a thousand needles repeatedly. I didn't move, couldn't find the strength to make my arms work for what seemed like an eternity.
When I finally turned my head, I found my phone resting where I'd dropped it by the door and maneuvered myself to my hands and knees to crawl to it.
Linda was number four on my speed dial, and she was the only person I could call with this. The only one who wouldn't set off a manhunt of epic proportions.
"Samara?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep. I knew it had to be late; it had been late to begin with when I'd gotten home from the lounge.
"Need h-help," I breathed. My voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and foreign sounding. Like it didn't belong to me.
She came anyway.
Eight
Samara
Linda had me curled up in my bed, thrusting pain medicine at me along with a bottle of water. I wanted to resist, wanted to tell her I didn't think I had it in me to swallow the pills, but the thunderous look on her face had me accepting them, anyway.
"He could have killed you. This has gone too far, Samara." Where she might have been gentle with me, after months of watching me battle with him in divorce litigation, this was the final straw for my hardened neighbor.
I nodded. "I'll figure something out in the morning. I promise." Her eyes narrowed to the thinnest slits when faced with the haggard sound of my voice. She shook her head at me, the lines on her aged face looking more weathered than usual in her concern.
"You're not alone. We'll figure it out together," she sighed finally as I forced the pills down. She thrust the bag of frozen peas into my hands, and I fought to contain my wince when I pressed it to the delicate flesh of my throat. She glared at it like my throat was at fault for Connor's assault.
"Is it that bad?" I asked.
She nodded and her silver hair shook around her chin as she didn’t even bother to sugarcoat it. "It's already bruised. You won't be going to work for some time, I suspect. Unless Jasper Rowe wouldn't think it odd if you suddenly wore a turtleneck every day." I shook my head, because even if I could hide the physical signs of the injury, there would be no disguising the pathetic rasp to my voice.
I laid back, resting my head on my pillow and only letting the ice barely touch my neck. Laying on my back with the pressure of the ice on my neck sent a pulse of terror through me, and I shot to sitting upright again. "You should rest, honey."
"I won't be able to sleep," I admitted, and she sighed before curling up in my bed with me. She turned the television on and pulled up my streaming service to settle in with her favorite reality dating show. I huffed a laugh, wincing in pain. "You could have asked what I wanted to watch."
"Hush. I'm your guest," she said as she made herself comfortable. "It's only good manners to let me watch what I want since I wouldn't even be awake if you weren't so stubborn." Eventually losing myself in the show, I set the peas on my nightstand and settled in on my side.
As I was drifting off to sleep, I vaguely heard Linda talking to someone and must have smiled in my sleep.
She was always talking to her shows.
Nine
Lino
I hated hiring people, hated reviewing resumes. I looked forward to the day that my manager handled such matters for me, and I never had to concern myself with the matters of employment. The shadow that appeared in my office wasn't mysterious, but I worked hard to ignore the way Enzo lurked in the doorway, no doubt on his way out for the night. Given the ridiculously late hour, most of my employees had already gone home for the night. "You need to go home," he ordered, snapping my gaze away from the computer where my eyes nearly glossed over from staring too intently. I shook my head, rubbing the heel of my palms into my eyes to clear my vision.
"Just a bit longer," I argued, wanting to wrap up my glance over of the resum
es that had come in the last few days. Knowing it would bring me one step closer to a more normal, regular work schedule, I felt eager to persevere and get it done. I needed to be ready to give Samara the relationship she needed, the kind she would want and be proud of. A man who was there in the evenings to dote on her, to spend time with her, but still provided for her and made her life easier.
I'd spent too many years of my life living for the Bellandi name—living for the business and the success that we strove for constantly. It was the only thing that mattered when family was business and I had no hope of ever being with the woman I'd loved for as long as I could remember. But with a real chance at happiness finally on the horizon, the hope that pulsed through me was foreign. Unknown.
And it was everything. She was everything. My past, my present, my future.
"You can't keep pushing so hard for something that may or may not happen, man," Enzo sighed, scrubbing a hand over his own face.
"It not happening isn't a possibility for me. I proceed like I will soon have a wife in my home because no other outcome is acceptable," I warned. "You should refrain from discouraging me for a few days. I'm not feeling generous where you're concerned after earlier."
Enzo laughed, and I hoped I would soon get to watch him fall to a woman who was everything he never dared to dream for. I would very much look forward to the day when a woman knocked him on his ass and he never fought back. "Okay, okay." He held up two hands to placate me. "You'll get married and have six kids. You've got it."
I went to tell him he would one day be struck by a woman who just felt like the other half of his soul, but never got the words out. The sound of my cell ringing made both of us turn concerned glances at it as it vibrated along the cherry surface. The time on my computer read 3:39 a.m. I knew we both wondered who would call me at that time at night, and my first instinct was Ivory was in labor. But the name on the screen made my pulse race for an entirely different reason.
Forgivable Sins: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 2) Page 4