Marcello: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Mob Daddies Book 1)

by Alexa Hart

  Not exactly teacher-of-the-year material, but who the hell cares.

  I began the task of pulling myself back together and a small smile spread across my face.

  Mine.

  I crept around the classroom, silently tending to all the little tasks that I normally would have completed an hour ago. I felt happy, if not a bit sore, and I would have been on cloud nine if it weren’t for that one nagging memory of what Marcello had said.

  “It’s the only place in the entire room the cameras can’t see.”

  Winston certainly had security cameras set up in various places and was not shy about making the staff aware of them. Inside of each individual classroom, however, was not one of the areas that was mentioned in this disclosure.

  It took all of my self-control to not look up and about, scanning for surveillance. I was starting to understand the “rat in a cage” metaphor a little too well.

  It’s for Gia. That made me relax a little, thinking of her little face and feeling a wave of affection roll over me. Gia was certainly worth protecting.

  I was buttoning my coat when Felicity burst into my room once again.

  “Abby. What in the actual fuck?” Her eyes were still wide, her shock still apparent, and something else was on her face that I did not often see.

  Disapproval?

  “Fel,” I began, knowing I was blushing to a deep red and trying to stop the seemingly permanent smile from spreading across my face. “A visit. A surprise visit,” I offered lamely.

  Felicity held my gaze, nodding. “Yes, I saw that.” She had her coat on and a small stack of papers under one arm. “I thought you should probably know that these old brick walls aren’t quite as soundproof as you may have previously assumed...”

  If I hadn’t been red before, I certainly was now. My eyes went huge with horror. I opened my mouth to speak and nothing came out.

  “Chill, Abs. Nobody heard. Okay well nobody besides me,” Felicity’s emphatic words caused her to finally grin.

  Was she the only one who heard? Did the cameras record audio as well as video? Who was on the other end of them? Who just listened to Marcello fuck my brains out?

  “Come over to my place. We can talk about it all you want,” I offered, pulling her by the arm out into the hall with me and suddenly wanting very much to be anywhere else.

  Felicity stared at me intensely, trying to read my face. “Okaaaay... Sure. I can come over.” She now walked along beside me silently, and we made our way out of the school and off Winston property.

  It was cold. This was the time of the year when Felicity and I both started breaking down and getting Ubers. This evening we just kept walking. The fresh air felt exhilarating on my face and after everything that had just taken place, I had enough of a natural adrenaline high going that I was sure I could walk much further than the five blocks to my apartment.

  Felicity didn’t seem quite as carefree. She kept her head down, bracing against the occasional brisk December wind and staying uncharacteristically silent. It was unsettling, and I almost regretted asking her to come over as I felt a shadow start to creep across my bliss.

  Once inside, I started a fresh pot of much needed coffee and we immediately cozied up with blankets on my couch. “You disapprove,” I blurted, surprising myself by talking first.

  Felicity tilted her head and stared at me for a moment. “No. Not of Mr. Morano.” She paused and seemed to be searching for words. “I think – it seemed a little reckless for Abigail Greene to get a good pounding right in her classroom before the buses had even all cleared out of the parking lot. I’m sure you’ve heard of the concept of schoolgrounds misconduct.”

  I grimaced, and she giggled. “Fel, I know – I wasn’t really thinking, you know, I just was... gone.” This was in no way a satisfactory excuse, and I knew it.

  “Oh, trust me, I know,” Felicity confirmed, wrinkling her nose. “I felt like a fucking perverted sentinel lurking around the hall and making sure no one else joined in for the special radio program.”

  I covered my face with my hands. The embarrassment was excruciating. But I would still do it again – a hundred times over. “I guess I got lucky. I can’t - I can’t see when I’m with Marcello. All I see is him.”

  Felicity nodded and softened a little. “I know, Abs. I actually think it’s great. You’ve needed something or someone like this for a long time – spice it up a bit. Go wild. Just don’t lose your job over it. I don’t wanna be stuck in that goddamn school with all those rich assholes by myself.”

  I wasn’t even remotely worried about losing my job. I was beginning to realize that no one at Winston was probably ever fired or hired without Marcello’s consent. There was a reason he felt he could walk into the place unannounced after hours and fuck the quiet, blonde, first grade teacher in her classroom like a rabid animal.

  He owned Winston. If not legally, in every other way that mattered. And those ways seemed to hold far more weight than a simple deed.

  “You’re smiling,” Felicity accused.

  And I was. I was staring dreamily out the window and smiling without even knowing I was smiling. Fog was settling over my thoughts again, and I spoke in a quiet, happy voice. “Has anyone ever told you that you are theirs? Has anyone ever called you “mine”? You are mine. Has anyone ever said that to you?” I paused, running a finger across the window pane. “Cuz it’s lovely, Fel. It’s fucking lovely.”

  Felicity’s face had become an instant landscape of revulsion and fear, but I didn’t care.

  I was too far gone.

  Chapter 8

  Felicity didn’t stay long after that. The words “creepy” and “fucked up” had been just a few that dotted her response to my comments.

  Her opinion of Marcello, which instinctively I knew was not so high as she had pretended to begin with, had soured considerably in a mere instant. It seemed ironic, considering all of the things about him that she still didn’t know.

  I realized that no matter what space oblivion my brain might be on at any given moment, I was going to have to keep much more of this to myself. I wanted to think that she was overreacting, but I could hear my words, feel my feelings, and knew that whatever the situation was between Marcello and I, it was nothing if not alarmingly abnormal.

  Fel insisted she wasn’t upset with me and protested when I insisted on paying for her Uber. I could feel the new, foreign chasm between us forming, and it was all happening too quickly to stop. I hugged her and watched out my window to make sure she got her ride. I felt misunderstood and foolish for thinking this could be understood.

  Watching the taillights of her car remorsefully, I thought nothing of the dark, nondescript sedan that pulled out quietly from the curb and followed after her. Foolishly, I also completely disregarded the equally dark and nondescript sedan which had been present outside of my apartment the entire evening.

  Marcello made good on his promise and called around 8:00 that night. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been holding my breath waiting to see whether or not he would until my phone rang.

  “Decent day, huh?” He joked after the initial awkward and giddy “hellos” had been exchanged.

  I giggled. “I guess. It was alright.”

  “Alright?” He knee-jerk responded, making me laugh. There was something triumphant and sexy in getting under Mr. Morano’s cool, calm skin. He recovered and laughed a little himself. “Yes. You seemed to think it was quite alright at the time, Miss Greene.”

  I was momentarily glad that no matter how badly I wanted to be touching him and not having a phone conversation, he at least couldn’t see how stupidly huge I was smiling. Then I was reminded of the cameras and just what could be seen – (oh God, or heard) – in my daily workplace.

  “Marcello. The cameras.” It wasn’t a question, but he knew what I was asking.

  “Abby, relax. I have extra security cameras in Gia’s classroom. Last year they were in Miss Howard’s. This year they are in yours. It isn’t a big
deal,” he talked slowly, calmly – trying to sooth me before I could fully freak out.

  It was working.

  “But who sees that stuff? Who’s watching? Can they hear me?” I spilled out all my queries at once.

  Marcello chuckled a little, and I was sure he had that maddening smirk on his face as he replied, “A little nervous about the footage from today, Miss Greene?” I didn’t have time to respond before he continued. “I’m the only one who sees those particular cameras, Abby. Gia’s classroom cameras aren’t immediately accessible to anyone else. And yes. Audio can be turned on or off. I do believe we might have made a number one, top of the billboard charts hit today.”

  He was laughing, and I couldn’t stop myself from joining, very relieved and also still heavily embarrassed. “You’re not going to listen to that!” I cringed, but also felt a little curiosity at exactly how “interesting” that playback might be.

  “Winter is cold and lonely, Miss Greene,” he answered, truly devilish and mildly infuriating with his playful nature. He seemed to try to sober up then, and through fading laughter, informed me that it was time for Gia’s nightly story reading.

  I hated myself instantly for the immediate “Awww!” that escaped my mouth. Any woman would have had the same response, and that was what bothered me. I didn’t want to feel cliché. I didn’t want to feel suckered into forgetting reality by the sweet side of this man.

  I also didn’t want to have that voice leave my ear for any reason at all. Ever.

  “I will see you soon, Abby,” he promised, sounding a bit frustrated himself.

  “Will you?” I returned, trying to still be light but feeling that achy, burning need growing up from my stomach.

  “I will. Good night.”

  I couldn’t help but think somberly as I prepared for bed – alone – that no night would really be that “good” from here on out unless I was spending it with Marcello.

  The school day was always my best distraction from any and all concerns involving my private life. Keeping the James O’Connors of the world from mortally wounding themselves with common classroom supplies was enough to consume anyone’s thoughts and energy for hours.

  In and out of my mind like a hazy wave of consciousness, it would occur to me that I was on camera, and that Marcello might be watching me at that exact second. It bothered me at first, but the more it crossed my mind, I realized the image of Marcello viewing me in my pert little private school teacher’s outfit – and knowing he couldn’t rip it off of me – seemed pretty fucking hot.

  I wasn’t sure when “the rat in a cage” syndrome had morphed into this fiery, inner deliciousness at being hungrily viewed, but I was a woman reformed.

  Reformed and insane.

  Felicity didn’t pop in for coffee time after school, and I had the flashing thought that I might have ruined – or at least irreversibly altered – the very dynamic of our friendship. I shook it off as extreme. One weird evening did not immediately undo seven years of friendship. Probably.

  As I completed the obligatory tasks of the day yet again, I was more than slightly aware of the growing disappointment gnawing somewhere deep within me that Marcello had not unexpectedly appeared at my classroom door like the previous day. It was silly, I knew. That scenario would not be a wise one to repeat – Felicity had been right about that – but it was currently the thing I wanted most in the world.

  Buttoning my coat and casting a longing glance towards the reading nook, I nearly ran straight into the school custodian as I approached my door. “Charlie! I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed, bending to pick up the mop my knee had knocked straight out of his hands.

  “No, no, Miss Greene. Pardon me. I wasn’t watching where I was going!” He laughed good naturedly, holding out a hand to stop me and retrieving the mop himself.

  “You and me both,” I agreed, happy for one split second to have such a normal, friendly interaction with someone as sweet as old Charles McGee to bring me back to reality and out of my torturous, inner world of angst.

  The second was short lived.

  “Miss Greene, would you mind if – would it be okay if we had a little talk?” He asked, his friendly brown eyes now showing hints of something less pleasant.

  Completely caught off guard and struck with a deep panic for no tangible reason I could think of, I nodded, still smiling. “Of course, Charlie! What’s up?”

  The kids are sticking bubblegum on the undersides of their desks. Someone has been stuffing wrappers into the cracks between filing cabinets. Excessive floor scuffing. My brain whirled about trying to think of any reason that Charlie would need a private conversation with me, the unremarkable first grade teacher.

  He came fully into my classroom, pulling his cart in with him. He seemed to ponder closing the door, but left it open at last. I had backed into my room, almost to my desk, and was trying to keep the distress from showing in my expression.

  There was perhaps a two second period of awkward silence (which seemed to last an entire millennium in my brain) where we looked at each other. Charlie cleared his throat, and, speaking in a conspiratorially low voice, murmured, “One second, ma’am,” as he walked to a far corner in the room and flipped a switch on the tiny thermostat carefully. “Okay. There.” He turned back to me and I was actually frozen in fear at this point. I knew without asking that the switch he had flipped had everything to do with surveillance and nothing to do with the classroom temperature; and his reasoning for such a move made me tense and ready to flee.

  I coughed nervously. “Charlie?”

  He now seemed to relax, but his expression became much sterner, and it seemed to me that I had never really seen Charles McGee’s true face before now. “Miss Greene,” he began, seeming to sense my severe alarm, “don’t worry ma’am. I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

  A hysterical, shrill laugh escaped my throat. “Charlie, why would I ever think – ”

  “It’s no good pretending, Miss Greene, and I haven’t got time for it, frankly. I wanted to speak with you about Mr. Morano,” he stated, pausing and watching my reaction. I tried to steel my face and nodded quickly. He went on. “The two of you are spending some time together these days, if I’m not mistaken.”

  I didn’t know how he knew, or why the fact that he did know made my blood slow to a crawl inside my veins, but I sensed that denial wasn’t going to work right now. Nodding again, I took a small, unconscious step towards the door. And then another.

  “I’m sure you’re somewhat aware of Mr. Morano’s occupation... and his employer,” Charlie continued, keeping his voice low and even and locking me into his severe gaze with a grave stare.

  Rossi. I nodded again.

  “Morano’s a good boy, Miss Greene. Or as good as a boy can be in his world, I’d guess,” Charlie spoke this almost with endearment, and then stiffened again. “But be that as it may, his world is a far cry different from yours, ma’am.”

  I had relaxed slightly, feeling the immediate harm to myself was no longer imminent. “I’m aware, Charlie. Can you please – would you please tell me what this is about? Quickly?”

  “You’re a nice girl, Miss Greene. You’re real sweet with the kiddos, and I’m sure your parents are really proud of you,” Charlie said the words with sincerity, leaning on one of the school desks as though he was exhausted far, far beyond his years. “I’d be willing to bet your parents’ whole life revolves around you. It would be a tragedy for them to lose their only child.”

  I sucked in my breath sharply. Exactly how did Charles McGee know I was an only child, and for what reason would he allude to such a horrific event? “Charlie, I think you had better go. I need to be going too.” I kept my eyes on him, now purposely taking steps towards the ever-looming doorway and mentally assuring myself I could outrun an old man.

  “Bad things happen in Morano’s world, Miss Greene. Cuz Morano’s world is Rossi’s world, and Rossi is a whole different breed of human than Morano. You understand?” His urgency stopped
me yet again, and he continued quickly, as though he knew I could run at any moment and he would never get to tell me –

  Tell me what?!

  “You find it strange that Rossi would fund such extreme security at an elementary school, Miss Greene?”

  “It’s for Gia,” I managed to croak out, panic rising in my throat again.

  “It is. It is at that. Rossi loves that little girl. Rossi loves Morano. And when Mrs. Morano passed, Rossi spent a lot of time making sure Morano would never have to experience that type of loss again.”

  I nodded, getting impatient. “Yes, Charlie. Yes, Marcello told me. Marcello knows the risks involved in Rossi’s world.” I spoke with more confidence than I really felt, wanting this conversation to end – just end now.

  “Of course he does, Miss Greene. Of course, he does. But there are a couple of things Morano doesn’t know. Things that Rossi thought would crush him but more so, things I think Rossi was afraid would turn Morano away from him quicker than a bolt. Rossi wouldn’t lose Morano or Gia for the world. That’s the only son he has. Gia is the only grandchild he has. Stefano Rossi will never let them go, Miss Greene.” Charlie moved closer to me now, and I felt the goosebumps on my skin rising from head to toe. “Those car accidents – the one that took Morano’s parents, and the one that took his sweet Celia – those weren’t accidents, Miss Greene. Those were hits, meant to hurt Rossi. Both of ‘em. Rossi is a widely hated man.”

  I was starting to feel faint, and Charlie’s serious façade was growing blurry. I clutched my purse like a lifeline, straining against the lightheaded fuzziness.

  “Morano insists on the security out of blind love for Gia. Morano trusts what he’s told out of blind loyalty to Rossi. But Rossi surrounds the two of them with steel walls because Rossi is a bad man. There are plenty of people who would love nothing more than to take every last person Rossi held dear in this world and shred them apart in front of his face on his own green lawn.”