The Man in Black_A Standalone Mafia Romance

by Soraya Naomi

  “She was busy with moving the first few weeks, and then she went out a couple of times with Ivo, but mostly, she goes to work and chills with Fallon. They went to the shooting range together,” he adds around a laugh.

  Did they? Evidently, Fallon and Brielle have gotten close.

  “Does Ivo stay at her apartment?” I question, clutching my phone hard.

  “I’m not sure; maybe. He’s been there some nights when I’ve left,” he says, aggravating me since I’m someone who expects to know all the facts at all times.

  “I want you to update me directly on Brielle; however, now that I’m back, I’ll also be guarding her, so sometimes you’ll be relieved of your duties. Until further notice, just keep watching her unless I call you,” I order. “And get me Gianni, Marliya, and Ivo’s files. I want to know every detail of their lives.” I know their phones are being tracked and no calls from Mexico have been made, but the spy most likely uses burner phones.

  “Okay, I’ll email them to you. I’ll go to Palermo now.”

  “Thanks,” I end the call and fire up the engine before pulling onto the street and racing to the Blackhall.

  AFTER I ENTER MY APARTMENT, I switch on the standing chrome lamp beside the Chesterfield that’s pushed against the window. While I felt relaxed when I returned to Chicago earlier today, somehow I’m riled up now. I manage to disregard the scorching throb in my temple as I look at the white-brick skyscraper across the street, counting up to the third floor and scrutinizing the two apartments. I’m squinting to check out the arched window that seems to be in a large entry area with a ceiling light when suddenly, a woman passes by. Although I can’t see her face or her hair color, I recognize her shapely figure before she leaps back and disappears. So I move my gaze to the left window that’s probably in the living room, but it’s dark and I can’t see anything.

  Does Brielle think I didn’t notice her?

  Then I swear I catch her head peeking around the corner before pulling back again, but there’s too much space between us for me to be positive. I have no idea why, but I switch off the lamp and almost immediately, I turn it back on.

  And I wait for agonizing seconds to see if she’ll respond, wanting her to acknowledge me for some reason – a reason I’m not sure I’m ready to face yet.

  CHAPTER 28

  Brielle

  AS I SNEAK ANOTHER look, I see the light across the street turning off and on.

  What is Michael doing? Is he signaling me?

  I slide my hand to the switch on the wall, but the fact that Michael left without a word pops into my mind, and I hesitate while his lights turn off again. Even though it should prevent me from reacting, I still switch my light off and on. Then I stare at his floor-to-ceiling windows, grinding my teeth as it stays dark. I was probably imagining it and it wasn’t a signal at all. I always seem to misread his intentions. Or maybe I’m still hoping to find out that our night also meant something – anything – to him.

  Feeling confused, I go to bed and try to forget Michael. I was doing that before and I’ll continue to do it. Though, as I shut my eyes, I wonder about one thing repeatedly.

  Did he think of me at all for those six weeks?

  I BUTTON MY CHEF’S jacket as I walk to the fridge, but then I hear a bang on the fire exit door, so I turn to it and push it open to see Michael. Although his back is to me, I immediately recognize his broad shoulders beneath his custom-made navy dress shirt that doesn’t disguise his muscles. When he spins around, I scan his features, trying to discern why just looking at him makes me weak in the knees. Of course, there are his high slashing cheekbones and his nose that’s straight and aristocratic. Or maybe it’s the wing of sleep-ruffled black hair that perpetually falls across his brow, making my fingers itch to push it out of his eyes. Or it could be his firmly sculpted mouth that, at present, is flattened into a thin line as he strides forward.

  “I told you not to come out here and put yourself in danger!” Gripping my arm, he shoves me backward and lets the door fall shut behind him.

  I’m puzzled by his dominant behavior; however, I shouldn’t be since this feels similar to our first encounters.

  “Don’t touch me!” I exclaim as I wrench free, which makes him freeze. Yet as he towers over me, he projects quite the stately presence, like when we met. His musk cologne shrouds me, the scent rich and sensual, suiting him perfectly. Even though I don’t cower under his glare anymore, I do take a step back. “You were making a noise in the back alley. If you don’t want people to go out there, then stop making noises.”

  He shoots me a look of reproof and doesn’t say anything. No hello. Or how are you? Yet I ache to know what he’s been doing until I notice the Band-Aid taped to his temple.

  “What happened to you?” I ask.

  “Nothing. Don’t go into the alley again.”

  I blow out an impatient sigh. “Then don’t make noises.”

  “Are you just repeating yourself?”

  “Are you?” I throw back, attempting to find a hint of the man who made love to me but still just seeing a tormented person.

  “Well, aren’t we feisty?” He edges closer, and so do I.

  “Yeah, I’m not some young girl like you seem to think, but you haven’t taken the time to notice...”

  “What did you expect?” he hisses, to my surprise, his armor cracking. “I come back and a lot has changed.”

  “Is that why you ignored me last night?”

  “I didn’t ignore you,” he objects, and I immediately wonder how he can say that. “Although I believe you were doing your best to ignore me while you were talking to Fallon and Luca.”

  Which is true, meaning I was foolish once again where he’s concerned within not even a day of his return. But I’m still sad he hasn’t mentioned seeing me or signaling me with the light, so I lash out, “What’s bothering you, Carrion?”

  “Maybe you are.”

  “Then go. You don’t have to be in my kitchen,” I say, and when he opens his mouth, I add, “Yes, it’s my kitchen now.”

  He dips his head, his nose almost touching mine as we’re somehow locked in a battle of wills until he whispers, “I wasn’t going to say that, Duchenne.”

  “Is everything okay here?” a male voice interrupts.

  I pull back instantly and look at the doorway as Michael coolly straightens, directing a stony stare at Ivo.

  CHAPTER 29

  Michael

  “IS EVERYTHING OKAY here?” Ivo interrupts, and Brielle jerks backward.

  I merely look at him and reply before she can, “We’re having a private conversation about work. Leave us.”

  Brielle clenches her jaw as Ivo stands there in his silver suit and narrows his eyes at me. Paying no attention to him, I arc a brow at Brielle and silently dare her to challenge me and tell him the truth.

  Let’s see if she goes with my lie...

  “Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll come out in a sec,” she says around a fake smile, and I let my lips curve up as he sends me a scowl before exiting the kitchen.

  “He seems like fun,” I comment.

  And she fires back, “So does Marliya.”

  Which makes me chuckle.

  “Don’t laugh!” She turns to her dessert counter as I move to the end of it and flip open the carton, but she actually smacks my hand away, reprimanding, “And don’t steal my cakes anymore.”

  “Is that a new rule?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve become very bossy, Brielle.” There’s a difference in her defiant attitude, apart from her feistiness, which is set on high, but I swear I catch the dimples in her cheeks deepening before she masks her amusement. Perhaps she isn’t completely immune to me?

  Then I identify the reason for the change when she says, “Fallon’s been teaching me to hold my own in this Palermo world that’s ruled by men.”

  What are they? Best friends?

  “Are you her student?” I goad her, purely because I enjoy it.

&n
bsp; “No, she’s helped me to be more assertive, and I like the new me.” She stops moving, her mouth tilting into a wry smile. “It’s funny how you really underestimated me.”

  My eyes widen since I have no idea where she’s going with this.

  “I know you lied about who carries a gun at Palermo. I saw Fallon’s, and when I asked her about it, she told me you all have permits – many people in big cities do. I simply never met anyone who carried one in New York, but then again, I was only eighteen when I left there. People don’t flaunt it, clearly; that wouldn’t be smart. But I get why people carry one for protection in this huge, bustling city. So even though I’m just twenty-one, as you’ve reminded me often, I do understand more about the ways of the world. However, none of that really matters. I know you’re a skilled liar, and I have a job to do, so go away, Michael.”

  She’s dismissing me?

  As she studies me expectantly, I see her gaze waver a bit while I contemplate how to respond.

  Then she snappishly adds, “Wait. Before you go, I’d like to know where you’ve been.”

  “Therapy,” I answer honestly.

  “Therapy...”

  “Yes, to cope with my grief.”

  “Oh,” she mutters and glances away sadly, right before her apparent resentment toward me shoots to the surface. “I’m not sure it helped, though, because you’re still as broody and mysterious as always.”

  Only when it comes to you; I was perfectly fine yesterday.

  It helped in the way I wanted to use it. I only took what I needed to get to the point of acceptance, which is probably not how therapy is intended, but it facilitated me to get rid of those daunting nightmares and guilt regarding Rachel. But apparently, I have unresolved emotions toward Brielle, because she’s rendered me mute.

  If she wonders about me, why didn’t she signal me back last night? Or did she and I missed it?

  Regardless, she’s seeing through me with her astute assessment – again. No one has ever blatantly called me a liar, even though I am. As mafia members, we’re trained to manipulate situations to our advantage.

  So I begin to understand why Adriano would suspect Brielle. But evidently, Luca and Fallon don’t, and I don’t either. I already know she’s an innocent civilian, yet instead of leaving, I make the same mistake as two months ago.

  While she has her back to me, I stop close behind her and can feel her ass heating my groin as her gaze shoots to the side and her breath catches before she tries to push me away, to no avail.

  Then she tenses, and I inhale her jasmine perfume, whispering against her hair, “But you’re different. And I like it.”

  She lets out a grunt right when the door swings open, and I edge back while she aims a look of pure doubt at me as Gianni and a few servers enter.

  “Brielle, always the first one to arrive,” Gianni comments proudly, and as he speaks to her, she keeps glancing at me, so I grab a rum cake, and she makes a face.

  When I leave the kitchen, I open the door with my back, winking at her as I take a bite, and it hits me that within minutes, she managed to annoy, intrigue, and then amuse me, in that order. I hadn’t expected our dynamic to remain the same, even though there is a certain element of change – due to Ivo.

  Nonetheless, I shake my head and take a seat at the bar for the entire day, observing the kitchen staff any time they keep the door open. Gianni and Brielle don’t seem to pay attention to anything except their food, and I see that Gianni and the cooks keep their phones on the counter, the same ones they’ve always had. So I’m relatively sure the spy can’t be one of them, which leaves the servers. Coincidentally, Marliya, who happens to be on Adriano’s suspect list, saunters up to me.

  “Hey, Michael.” She tightens her ponytail.

  “Are you on a break?”

  “Yeah. It’s quiet now since we’re closing in an hour anyway, and it was hectic tonight.”

  I scoot a bar stool back and motion to it. “Sit.”

  “Thank you. Are you on a break too?’

  “Yes,” I lie.

  She bends over the bar counter, reaching under it, and then sits down with her purse in hand, digging out her phone without being covert at all. At that second, Adriano passes us, so I jerk my head, signaling that he needs to distract her so that I can inspect her belongings.

  “Marliya, can you come with me for a moment to the kitchen?” Adriano asks her.

  “Sure.” She sets her bag back before following him.

  When the bartender leaves the bar, I lean forward and check her purse furtively, finding make-up, gum, and a comb, and then I read her messages. One’s from Brielle, who seems to be everyone’s friend but mine, and the rest of them are innocent. Ruling out Marliya as the spy, I stuff her bag back beneath the bar before she returns.

  “I have to go. Emergency in the kitchen,” she informs me. “But let’s do drinks soon?”

  I’m about to answer; however, I’m sidetracked when Brielle comes out of the kitchen with Ivo, who’s apparently visiting her again. I nod absentmindedly at Marliya as she says something else before she leaves.

  Ivo and Brielle seem to be in a heated conversation, but when he glances at me, he takes her hand in his, his dull brown gaze meeting mine.

  Is he taunting me?

  An emotion I’ve never felt overtakes me when I witness Brielle exiting with him. And I make choices before I fully think things through. Getting my phone from my pocket, I twirl it in my hand for over ten minutes before I type a message to Corrado.

  Michael: Where did Brielle go with Ivo?

  Corrado: Home.

  Michael: Did he go inside with her?

  Corrado: No.

  Michael: Follow him.

  After five minutes, I get another text.

  Corrado: He went around the corner to a bar and made two calls. On two different burner phones, by the way. I watched him and then went back to Brielle, who’s still at home.

  It’s strange that Ivo has two burner phones.

  Michael: You can leave. It’s late; she won’t go out. What bar is Ivo at?

  Corrado: Okay, I’ll go. He’s at After Eight.

  After getting up, I walk out the entrance and call Adriano as I head to my BMW parked at the curb.

  “Michael?”

  “Corrado saw Ivo making two calls on two burner phones,” I inform him. “Right after he dropped off Brielle, he went to a bar.”

  “Did Corrado eavesdrop on the convo?”

  Opening the car door, I jump inside. “No, but Ivo’s still at the bar. I observed the kitchen staff and servers all day. I even checked some phones. Gianni, Marliya, and Brielle are harmless, but Ivo’s becoming more suspect.”

  “Hmm, this information has definitely put him high on my list too, but I don’t want to tip him off. You need to steal his phones somehow, but stay away from him right now. Use Brielle if necessary. If he discovers we’re investigating him, he could cause problems since he runs our money through the houses he buys and sells. And if he’s not the spy, I don’t want to lose a good realtor.”

  “Okay. I’ll come up with a plan for the upcoming week. I’m keeping a close eye on him.”

  “Bene.” Good.

  I end the call and chuck my phone onto the passenger seat. The insistent throb near my temple surges, yet it’s not from the pain the grazed bullet caused.

  I should obey orders, but there’s something inside me I’m not sure I can stop. Every bone in my body repels the idea of keeping her in the middle of this as the familiar need to look out for her arises, even after six weeks apart.

  At this point, I seriously contemplate whether or not to listen to Adriano. But first, I need to weigh what could have the worst consequences – playing with Brielle’s safety or defying Adriano’s orders.

  CHAPTER 30

  Brielle

  AFTER AN ODD WORKDAY where Michael seemed to watch the kitchen all day, I enter my apartment with Ivo while thoughts of the former man in black occupy my mind. A
lthough I’m worried about Ivo when he settles a questioning gaze on me as we stop in the entry.

  “Can we talk about earlier? Did something happen between you and Michael?” he asks point-blank.

  Caught off guard, I swallow and the words tumble out, “No. He’s only a colleague and we don’t get along, but we barely even come across each other, so don’t worry.”

  His brown eyes thin, yet he replies in an even tone, “So I’m not the only one he seems to dislike. He’s really conceited.”

  No, he isn’t! He’s...tormented.

  Where did that come from? Don’t forget that you’re just a one-night stand to Michael, Brielle!

  “I don’t know him that well.” I act neutral and yawn, sliding my purse off my shoulder and clasping the strap to keep from fidgeting. “Thanks for bringing me home.” Rising on my tiptoes, I peck his cheek.

  Luckily, he’s very easygoing, which is what attracted me to him in the first place, and he walks out without any argument. I lock the door and immediately look out the window to my left at the fifth floor of the glass tower across the street before I relocate to my living room, vowing to forget about Michael as I kick off my ballet flats.

  “But you’re different, and I like it.”

  When I plop down onto the loveseat, my phone vibrates, so I open my purse and dig it out, bringing it to my ear. “Hey.”

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Fallon’s voice rings out.

  “Nothing. Just got home.”

  “You okay?”

  I let out a sigh. “No.”

  “Because Michael came back yesterday?”

  “Yep.”

  “I didn’t know he was coming back until an hour before. I tried to wave you over when you came in last night,” she explains.

  “I know.”

  “So what exactly happened between you two? You never really spoke about him, so I didn’t either,” Fallon says.

  The need to discuss what I’ve put a lid on for six weeks bursts out, “I fell for him. For his protectiveness, which seemed genuine. He fixed things in my apartment, he would drive me home, and just make me feel...cherished in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. But after that night, he said that he was just drunk and it shouldn’t have happened. Beneath his broody mask, everything that I thought about him being a caring person was just wrong – he only wanted to verify whether or not I knew about him and Rachel, or something. I don’t even care. The bottom line is that he used me and then ran away, which made me feel even worse. And it seems that during the time he was gone, he didn’t think of me at all, while I felt miserable for so long after that night.”