The Mafia And His Angel (Tainted Hearts Book 1)

by Lylah James

  He was angry one minute but gentle the next. So many mixed signals, and they were all tugging at my broken heart.

  It made me mad that I didn’t understand, and I hated him for that. For making me feel.

  “Come here,” he ordered, crooking his finger.

  I didn’t move.

  He sighed loudly and shook his head, a small smirk playing across his lips. Alessio slowly stood, taking all his time by fixing his suit before he walked toward me. No, he stalked. His steps were long, powerful, and confident.

  “You know, I hate repeating myself, but for you, I find that I don’t mind,” he said. He stopped right in front of me, crowding my space like he always did. But this time, I had a fair advantage.

  I wasn’t blocked from behind, so I quickly took a step back, putting some distance between us. But then he took a step forward.

  He never gives up, does he?

  I took another step back. And as expected, he took another forward.

  “Are we going to keep doing this? It’s boring, kitten. Let’s find something more interesting to do. What do you think?” he asked, his eyes twinkling deviously.

  I shook my head, my hair falling in front of my face as I took another step back but this time I froze when I came in contact with the door.

  Alessio laughed and came closer again until his body was pressing mine into the door. “See what happens when you try to escape?” He made a tsk sound, shaking his head with fake pity.

  He leaned forward until his face was next to my right ear. His breath tickled my ear and the tiny hairs on my neck stood up straight. A shudder went through my body and I brought my hand up to his chest to push him away but instead, Alessio held my hand there, trapping me to him.

  “But I’m loving this chase,” he said into my neck. His voice caused me to freeze and I gasped. Alessio pulled away just enough to look into my eyes.

  “Did you like what you saw?” he asked, smirking.

  My eyes widened at the question and my heart dropped to my stomach. What kind of question was that? He was horrible.

  “Let me go,” I tried to say, but it sounded more like I was gurgling.

  “Do you really want me to, kitten?” Alessio asked gruffly.

  I nodded mutely because I didn’t want to embarrass myself more than I already had.

  “Say it, then.”

  “Let me…” But I never had a chance to finish my sentence.

  Before the words were even out, Alessio slammed his lips against mine. Taking them possessively, roughly. He pushed me harder against the door and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me upward so that he had better access to my lips.

  His rough kisses sent my senses into a chaotic overdrive. My mind went numb and I hung limply in his arms. Without thinking, my lips moved hesitantly over his, while he continued to devour mine. I felt hot. Too hot. I was burning.

  I felt his hand on my thigh and he slowly hitched my dress up. When his hand came in contact with my bare thigh, I tore my lips away from his.

  What was I doing? How could I behave in such a vulgar manner? How could I let a man like him affect me this way?

  Our loud breathing filled the room. My chest heaved with each breath. Staring at his blue eyes, I trembled at the smoldering look he gave me.

  I swallowed hard. Get yourself together, Ayla. Don’t let him affect you.

  I grasped the hand that was still touching my thigh and pushed it away from me. His eyes widened slightly in shock at my bold action and he raised an eyebrow in surprise.

  “Don’t touch me. I’m not like…those women,” I said through my heavy breathing as I gasped each word.

  “Like who?” he asked, sounding amused. He knew very well what I meant but as always, he loved torturing the answer out of me.

  “Like that woman. I’m not like her. Don’t treat me…like one,” I squeaked, pushing at his chest again, but he was unmoving.

  “You mean, you are not a whore?” he asked, his voice hard.

  I flinched at the word and closed my eyes tightly as painful memories assailed me.

  Look at her. Broken down, lying on the floor, our come dripping from her. Exactly like a whore.

  That’s what you are, Ayla. Never forget it. You hear me?

  I felt a hand on my cheek. My mind was reeling as I was brought back into the present. I hated that word. Alberto called me that more than he said my name.

  “Ayla, I never said you were one,” I heard Alessio saying. His voice was surprisingly soft. “If I thought you were a whore, then I would have sent you to one of my prostitution rings. But I didn’t, did I?”

  I never said you were one.

  His words kept repeating over and over in my head. He didn’t think I was a whore. He didn’t call me such cruel words.

  My heart stuttered when his thumb caressed my cheek. “Okay?”

  I didn’t answer.

  He sighed and then slid his hand down until it rested at the base of my neck. “Fine, I won’t touch you,” he declared, moving his hand away from my neck.

  I was shocked at his admission and stared at him suspiciously.

  “I won’t touch you. Not until you ask me to,” he clarified, slightly bending his knees so that we were at eye level.

  Well, that wouldn’t happen. Ever. Which meant he would never touch me. My muscles relaxed in relief, but I was still filled with suspicion.

  For now, I would take him at his word.

  “Okay?”

  I nodded and then swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. Were we done? I hoped we were, because if he kept playing with my mind like that, I would break down. And I couldn’t let that happen.

  I nodded again.

  A small laugh rumbled from his chest. He moved against me, and that was when I realized his body was still plastered against mine.

  I looked down and then back up at his face. He was staring at me amusingly. Clearing my throat, I tried to push him again and this time he slightly moved away. But he was still crowding my space, still trapping me against the door with his body.

  “You…you said you wouldn’t touch me,” I stammered. Closing my mouth with a snap, I took a deep breath in and then continued. “But you are touching me right now.”

  “Am I?”

  Was that even a question? His body was practically covering mine.

  “You are,” I said.

  “Okay, then.” Alessio stepped away from me and glided his fingers through his hair, ruffling it in the process.

  He was about to say something but his phone rang. His forehead creased in frustration and he quickly pulled his phone from his pocket. With his eyes still on me, he answered the call.

  “Yeah?” He was silent for a few seconds. “Okay. I’m coming,” he said, his voice cold and deadly. Alessio put his phone away and walked toward me. I quickly stepped away from the door to give him access. I kept my head down, refusing to look at him.

  I heard the door open but there was no sound of it closing. Confused, I was about to turn around when I felt a hot breath at the back of my neck. My body froze in panic. When I heard Alessio’s voice, my muscles slightly relaxed.

  “I won’t touch you. Not until you beg me to.”

  His words made me tense. And my heartbeat quickened.

  With that, I heard him walk away again and the door closed behind him.

  Bringing a shaky hand to my chest, I breathed deeply.

  Beg him?

  Scoffing at his assumption, I walked over to my bed and laid down on my back. That was never going to happen.

  Chapter 19

  Alessio (seven years old)

  My mommy sat on the big sofa chair with a book on her big round belly. She looked so comfortable and she had a small smile on her face. From where I was sitting on the floor, while arranging my puzzles, I saw her slowly rubbing circles over her stomach.

  My baby sister was in there. Papa and Mommy called her a princess. Why didn’t they call me a prince? I wanted to be a princ
e!

  But Mommy called me her sweet boy, so that was okay.

  “Mommy, can I feel the baby?” I asked softly. Mommy looked up with eyes the same color as mine. She smiled.

  “Of course, baby. Come here.” She motioned for me to get up as she placed the book on the small table beside her.

  I quickly got up and ran to her. Mommy patted her lap and I climbed up and sat down on her lap, nestling into her chest. She took my hand and placed it on her round belly. As soon as my palm made contact with her stomach, I felt a hard kick. My eyes widened and I sucked in a shocked breath.

  “She kicks hard,” I whispered.

  “You used to kick harder,” Mommy replied, laughing.

  “Really?” I looked up at her with wide eyes.

  She nodded and made a humming sound. “You were a very strong baby.”

  “I like being strong!” The baby kicked again and I smiled. I couldn’t wait to see my baby sister. “Mommy, I will always protect princess!” I said, looking at her stomach in awe. Papa always said that as her big brother, I had to protect her. And I vowed I would.

  I won’t ever let anything happen to princess, I thought as I rubbed my small hand over Mommy’s round stomach.

  Mommy placed a kiss on my temple and started humming some songs. She liked playing the piano and she was always humming. That would be our daily routine. Before going to sleep, she would play the piano for some time while humming. Most times, I would fall asleep on the sofa, listening to her play.

  We sat there for a while and then I heard a knock on the door. Looking up quickly, I saw Papa leaning against the door, looking at Mommy and me with an amused smile on his face.

  “Papa!” I exclaimed loudly, quickly jumping off Mommy’s lap and running into his open arms. He pulled me up and hugged me tight to his body. I missed him so much. He had been gone for a few days, but now he was back.

  “Hey there, my boy. How are you?” he asked.

  “I’m good. I was feeling princess moving.”

  “Oh, really? I want to feel too,” he said with a small laugh, walking us back toward where Mommy was sitting. He stopped beside the couch and smiled down at her. Mommy had a big smile on her face, and she looked peaceful as she stared at Papa. He placed a hand on her stomach and asked, “How is our princess?”

  “She is kicking a lot lately,” Mommy said, placing her hand over his.

  Papa let me down and then leaned forward, kissing Mommy on the lips. They kissed for some time, totally forgetting about me. I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed. They always did that.

  Papa pulled away but then pressed his forehead against Mommy’s. “I missed you, Angel,” he whispered.

  Angel. That was what Papa called Mommy. But I never understood why.

  Moving forward, I stood on the other side of Mommy. “Papa, why do you call Mommy ‘angel’?”

  They pulled away and stared at me. Papa let out a small laugh while Mommy’s cheeks turned red. He crouched down in front of me. “What is an angel?” he asked.

  I felt my forehead crease in confusion and then shrugged. “Isn’t an angel someone with wings? God’s messenger. They are nice people. They are supposed to help others.”

  “Correct. But an angel is also someone who is sweet, kind, caring, and calm. The most beautiful woman on the planet. Someone who is amazing in every way. An Angel is the girl who makes your heart beat faster when she walks into the room. The girl you need wherever you go. The girl who makes you want to be better. An angel is someone who is your rock. The person who you love with your entire heart. The person who you can’t see yourself living without.”

  I stared at Papa in awe. He was a man of few words. I never expected him to give me such an explanation. And while he was talking, he stared at Mommy, his eyes shining with emotions that I couldn’t understand.

  “Oh,” I mumbled quietly. I didn’t know what to say. I heard him chuckle as I looked down. Mommy laughed softly too. I felt a hand on my arm and looked up to see Mommy pulling me toward her. I stood in front of her and she ran her fingers through my hair.

  “And one day, you will find your angel,” she whispered. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion and I quickly shook my head.

  “But you are my angel, Mommy.”

  She gasped and then smiled. “My sweet boy.” Shaking her head, she placed a kiss on my forehead. “No, baby, I’m not your angel. Your angel is waiting for you somewhere.” She pulled back and palmed my cheek. “And when you do find her, don’t ever let her go.”

  “Because if you lose her, then you will forever be incomplete,” Papa added.

  “Will she be like you, Mommy?” I asked, thinking about my angel. What would she look like? Would she be as beautiful as Mommy and as sweet as her?

  “Oh, baby, she might be better than me,” she said, laughing.

  “Impossible,” Papa mumbled under his breath.

  “Hush, Lyov,” Mommy scolded, swatting his arm playfully.

  He grumbled something that I couldn’t understand and then stood up. He pulled Mommy off the couch and then sat down, pulling her onto his lap. He nuzzled her neck and I heard her giggle.

  I stared at them, shaking my head with a sigh. I had been forgotten again.

  I went back to my puzzles. Mommy and Papa were talking quietly while I played. I didn’t know how long we stayed like that but the phone started ringing after some time. I looked up and saw Papa answering the call.

  He looked frustrated and I heard him growl angrily. After a few seconds of listening to the other person from the line, he hung up.

  “What’s wrong?” Mommy asked, rubbing his chest soothingly.

  “I have to take care of some stuff,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Oh, okay then,” Mommy murmured, and then clumsily got off Papa’s lap. They both stood up and Papa wrapped his arms around her, hugging her as best he could with her big stomach in the way. He leaned down and kissed her again. A long, deep kiss.

  When he leaned back, I heard him whisper, “Love you, Angel.”

  “I love you too, Lyov,” she whispered back, her voice a little hoarse. Was she crying?

  My heart twisted a little. I didn’t want her to cry. Papa placed a kiss on her forehead and then turned to me. “Alessio, come here.”

  I quickly got up and went to him. He crouched down and then stared into my eyes. “I have to go for a while,” he said.

  My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Again?”

  “Yes. While I’m gone, I want you to be a good boy and take care of your mommy and princess, okay?”

  I nodded my head. I was a big boy now. “Yes. I will.”

  “Good,” he said, placing a kiss on my forehead and standing up. He nodded at Mommy and then walked away.

  I heard her sigh. She sat back down and rubbed her eyes. “Mommy, why does Papa have to go away so much?”

  “It’s his work, baby. Your papa is a very busy man. He has a lot to do.”

  I went to Mommy and climbed on her lap again. Laying my head on her shoulder sleepily, I sighed. “I want to be like Papa. He is so strong. And everyone listens to him. I want to be tough like him.”

  Mommy shook her head. “No, Alessio. You aren’t like your papa.” She palmed both of my cheeks and then continued. “You are not ready to fight the world. You are my sweet boy. My sweet gentle boy. And I want you to stay just like this.” Placing a kiss on my forehead, she whispered, “Let your papa do the fighting.”

  I didn’t say anything else. Mommy always knew how to make me feel special. I would always be her sweet boy. That would never change.

  Nodding my head, I closed my eyes. Mommy was rubbing my back soothingly, and in no time, I had fallen sleep. And my dream was riddled with a black-haired angel. She had green eyes.

  I didn’t know this would be the last time that I had a peaceful sleep. Our lives would change forever.

  ***

  10 years old

  I walked into the cold basement, closing the d
oor behind me quietly so that nobody heard me. A man was strapped to the chair in the middle of the room. His face and clothes were bloody. He was sagging against the chair and from where I was standing, I could hear his whimpers of pain.

  Looking at him, I felt red hot anger coursing through my body. Murderous anger.

  Kill. Kill him. Spill his blood. Make him pay, my mind screamed as my body started to shake with the force of my fury.

  He was one of them. An Abandonato. The Italians. I still remember his face from that night. His laughing face as he tortured my mother with the others.

  Walking forward purposely, I came to stand in front of him. He looked up, and if possible, his swollen eyes widened.

  He opened his mouth to say something but only a gurgling sound came out through the gag. My hands tightened in a fist and I punched him hard in the face, his nose making a crunching sound as my knuckles came in contact with his face.

  He screamed and I laughed.

  His pain made me feel good. My heart soared, but I needed more. I needed his blood. I needed to see him suffering.

  I needed to kill him.

  Only then would I be satisfied.

  Walking to the table at the back of the room, I looked at all the weapons laid out. There were so many. Different style. Big and small. I had never been to the basement before, but I heard the rumors around the mansion.

  Taking the big knife with the spiral blade, I walked back toward the man. The man I loathed with all my being.

  He whimpered in fear and started to shake his head and tried to move away, but he couldn’t. He was strapped to the chair at my mercy.

  Actually, I wasn’t going to show him mercy. Mercy was no longer in my vocabulary.

  Holding the knife tightly in my hand, I pressed it hard against his cheek. Pulling it down, I made a big gash. He tried to scream again.

  I stared at the blood and my heart pumped faster. Adrenaline filled me and my mind begged me. More. More. More.

  I made another gash on his other cheek. And then on his arms. Big, long, deep cuts. Blood was everywhere. Then on his chest. So deep that I could see his bones.

  He couldn’t move anymore. His head was hanging down as he bled. I could see that he was quickly losing consciousness.