by Soraya Naomi
“Me too,” I reveal honestly. “Did you tell her that she should be more aware of her surroundings?”
“I did. Luca often told me that when we first met, and...I wanted to look out for her since she’s my friend and she’s also in this underworld now.”
“She listened to your advice. She’s very clever and knows how to keep a secret.”
“I told you she was clever months ago. She’s definitely not as naïve as I was when I first met Luca. By the way, she thinks you were on a date with Marliya.”
“Yeah, I’ll set that straight. I wasn’t.”
“I knew it! You like Brielle, Michael.”
“There’s something about her,” I finally confess. “But I have to keep her safe; that’s my only priority, so don’t tell Luca she’s onto us yet.”
“I won’t,” she agrees. “But what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know, but I won’t stay away from her – I can tell you that. Ivo’s up to something. He’s the spy and has no problem confronting me when he’s with her.”
“I don’t like him. He’s sneaky.”
“He is. But he’s playing Mr. Nice Guy with Brielle.” I rub my chin, mulling over my options and wanting to know how far she’s gone with him.
“Do you have Brielle’s spare key?”
“Yes...” Fallon answers hesitantly.
“Give it to me.”
Opening the drawer, she rummages through it and brings out a key on a silver ring, but she doesn’t hand it over. “Don’t freak her out, okay?”
“I won’t. I just need to take control over this mess, whether Brielle likes it or not. But I have to strategize about how to protect her.” I turn toward the door.
“Keep me updated, please?”
“I will,” I conclude before getting into the elevator and planning my next move, though I’m drawn like a magnet to the Ivory.
CHAPTER 36
Brielle
I UNLOCK MY DOOR AND tread inside my apartment at ten-thirty p.m. The minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly after my argument with Michael, the man who refuses to leave my thoughts. I’m really beginning to resent my obsession with him, especially since he always invades my personal space, and when he does, I feel his touch in every nerve ending. I just have to remember that he’s a liar and he’s hiding things from me.
Switching on the light in the entry, I look out toward the glass tower across the street to see Michael standing in front of his floor-to-ceiling windows, hands in his pockets and peering straight at my window. But the pain he keeps inflicting on me has me turning off my light before I wander into the bedroom where I shut the blinds, attempting to eliminate him from my sight. I have to stop moping and allowing this guy’s actions to affect me. I keep forgetting how far I’ve come. Six months ago, I was jobless, and now I’m an up and coming pastry chef. On the other hand, I can’t stop trying to figure out what I might be missing at Palermo, a sense I can’t seem to shake.
UNFORTUNATELY, MY SCATTERED brain can’t focus while I go through the motions of work for the next two days. When Sunday rolls around and I’m shopping at a clothing store, I receive a message, but it’s not from Michael, who has respected my wishes and left me alone.
I dig into my purse and read the text.
Ivo: I’m picking you up at six, okay?
Shoot! I mentally face-palm myself because I’m an even bigger scatterbrain than I thought. I totally forgot my date with Ivo, and I want to get out of it but come up empty. I don’t want to be mean to a guy who’s been nothing but nice to me.
Since it’s already five-thirty p.m., I rush out of the store, take the fifteen-minute walk to the Ivory, and go up on the elevator. I grab my key and push it into the lock while sending a confirmation message to Ivo. Shutting the door, I move into the living room while looking at my phone.
Then a dark voice says, “Don’t freak out. It’s me.”
Looking up, I shriek and drop my phone onto the floor, seeing Michael seated in the chaise, his ankle crossed over his knee, his arm draped casually on the armrest with his gun in hand. He’s in a navy suit today instead of black.
“Jesus!” I clutch my chest. “W-what are you doing here? And how did you get in?”
“I have to talk to you alone and this was the only way.”
“Is the gun really necessary?” I hiss, shocked, and pick up my phone to hurl it onto the loveseat across from him.
Holding up his pistol, Michael examines it. “This was just in case you came in with him.” Then he sets it on the armrest and rises, quickly approaching me with the grace of a panther.
I retreat just as fast until I hit the wall and he stops with a foot of distance between us.
“How did you get in here?” I repeat.
“I’m a resourceful man.”
“You’re breaking and entering.”
“Then call the police,” he retorts, giving me a dark, jaded smile.
Silence ensues as he watches me keenly.
“Why are you here, Michael?”
“Why are you with him?” His ashy-grey eyes storm with fury.
“Why did you leave?” I dare to say at last, and I see discomfort in his gaze before his expression turns stoic. He’s such a masterful actor that it’s scary, yet it’s also appealing. “We had sex and you left! You didn’t contact me for six weeks and then waltzed back into my life to continue on, without explaining anything. We’re not doing this again. Do you even wonder what I did during those six weeks?”
“You dated him,” he accuses, cutting quite the commanding figure. Unexpectedly, he moves forward and takes my hands in his, drawing me near. “Do you sleep with him?”
“You have no right to ask me that.” I try to twist free, but he doesn’t let go.
“I know, but I’m asking anyway,” he says with a torment on his face. “Tell. Me.”
The hurt and anger that pines for him inside me switches to curiosity. “What’s with you and Marliya?”
Michael releases me, his lips turning down. “Nothing. You seem to think we were on a date, but we weren’t.”
My throat burns, but I demand to know, “Did you fuck her?”
Michael blinks at the sudden direct question and then snarls, “Did you fuck him?!”
We glare at each other in bristling silence, tears prickling behind my lids, yet I refuse to answer first. He owes me answers!
“I didn’t,” he responds, cool rage underlining his clipped words.
I keep my tone soft. “Neither did I.”
He stalks toward me and frames my face in both hands, and I add, “So what does she have that I don’t?” I wait with bated breath for his reply.
“She’s not you, so she’s safe,” he reveals, astonishing me because it sounds like an angry compliment. “Ask Marliya if we’re dating and she’ll tell you. I know you don’t believe me, but I’m being as truthful as I can be now. You make me feel things I don’t want to.” His head dips down, his forehead resting against mine as I touch his chest, and he envelops me in his imposing, large frame, the fresh scent of his shampoo smelling delicious. “I don’t want to be vulnerable. It’s dangerous – for you. But I can’t stay away from you.”
“What do mean? Why is it dangerous? You have to explain that to me because I don’t get why you keep saying that.”
“Because there are things that you don’t know.”
“Clearly!” I grumble, and his mouth twitches.
“So promise me you’ll stay away from Ivo. There’s a reason why I don’t trust him.”
“Why?” I ask.
“I can’t tell you yet—”
I pull back, but he keeps standing close to me. “No, Michael, you have to give me more. He’s been nice and I’m not making the same mistake with you for the third time. Tell me what you know about him.”
I see a dark cloud passing over his face as he holds my gaze. But my phone chimes in, and he growls when I lunge to the couch before he can grab it.
Ivo
: I’ll be there in five minutes.
Brielle: Don’t come up. I’ll come down. I’m ready.
Ivo: Okay.
Michael abruptly steals my phone from my hand and checks the messages before he peers down at me with a scowl.
“You’re not going.” His tone is sharp as he tosses my phone aside.
My mouth drops open. “I’ll do what I want,” I retort, making his glare deepen.
If he can’t elaborate, then I still don’t trust him, so I move around the couch and hurry to the entry, but he trails me with surprising speed.
What’s he going to do? Keep me captive in my own apartment?
CHAPTER 37
Michael
“I’LL DO WHAT I WANT,” she shouts, being feisty and enthralling, even though it also pisses me off.
No, you’ll do what I want.
I follow Brielle to the door and when she yanks it open, I stop and tilt my head, realizing that she expects me to keep her here with force, like a caveman. So I make a sweeping gesture with my arm, indicating for her to go. She hasn’t even dressed up for the date since she’s wearing jeans with a simple tight black top tucked inside, although the outfit does accentuate her curves in a way my cock has definitely noticed.
Her green eyes narrow. “I’m not leaving you alone in my apartment.” She widens the door, motioning for me to precede her.
I walk out and intentionally leave my gun on the chaise because I want her to have a weapon. She knows how to use the semi-automatic Smith & Wesson due to the shooting lesson she got with Fallon.
She closes the door and we get on the elevator, and unluckily for me, she fluffs her long blonde hair, which makes her look even more luscious. I want to give her the answers she wants, but I can’t disclose everything right now – it would freak her out and put her in more danger, so I attempt to keep my temper in check. I have a plan and it won’t fail.
My silence infuriates her, though, and she sneers at me when the elevator opens, “Wait here. Don’t let him see you.”
“Sly.” I lift my brows, captivated, and edge closer, but she holds out her palm, so I add, “Fine.”
Only to protect you.
Brielle instantly marches out without looking back once as she crosses the white tiled reception area and goes through the revolving doors. I step out of the elevator, clenching my fist to prevent from slamming it into the wall. Then I snatch my phone from my pocket to call Corrado.
“Hey, Michael,” he answers promptly.
“I want you to call Ivo and make up an excuse about why you need him to look at an apartment you’re going to sell or something, and tell him that you can show him the place tonight.”
“Whose apartment?”
“I don’t care; ask a soldier or captain. It’s a just a decoy because Ivo’s on a date that needs to be cut short right now.”
“Why?”
Because I’m fucking jealous. “Just do it,” I command through gritted teeth.
“Okay...Oh, I can just show him my sister’s apartment; she’s gone anyway.”
“Great. Do it.”
“I’m on it.”
I cut the call before striding out the entrance just in time to see Brielle in Ivo’s red sedan as they make a right turn. Leaping into my BMW, I fire up the engine and go after them, rounding the corner and spotting them at the intersection ahead. I remain several cars behind them for over ten minutes until they reach the center of the Loop, where it’s surprisingly busy with pedestrians on this overcast Sunday night.
Ivo parks in front of a restaurant with a wicker fence surrounding a crowded terrace that has a dozen or so tables filled with customers. I manage to find a space five cars behind them, and after they get out, I watch him escorting her to the terrace where the hostess seats them right in my view. He annoyingly holds out her chair as if he’s a gentleman.
All of a sudden, Brielle’s head whips around, her wavy blonde hair framing her heart-shaped face, but my BMW is nearly hidden behind the other vehicles, so she doesn’t catch me. Although it pleases me to see how aware she already is of her surroundings. It seems that she senses she’s being watched, which is a good instinct to have in the mafia. Additionally, she isn’t clingy and she isn’t a pushover. No, quite the opposite. She’s tough and would survive in my Syndicate world, which I now realize isn’t a feeling I ever got with Rachel.
Impatiently, I start drumming my fingers against the steering wheel while they sit across from each other having a conversation.
“Make the call, Corrado,” I say aloud, not sure how long I can contain myself.
Reaching for the glove compartment, I open it to grab my other handgun. To my dismay, either Ivo isn’t getting a call or he’s ignoring it.
Rubbing my chin, I contemplate what to do. I can’t make a rash decision and cause a stir among regular civilians, but I’m afraid that if I approach them, I won’t be able to stop myself, which could have disastrous repercussions.
CHAPTER 38
Brielle
I SIT DOWN AND SHIVER when the May wind brushes my collarbone since I don’t have my jacket. Even though the smell of summer is in the air, the temperature still drops slightly at night.
Ivo sits down across from me while he speaks, but all the murmurs around me fade away as my thoughts are with Michael, the only person who can anger me to this extent. While he always has a guarded look in his eyes, he seemed different tonight, and I felt like he was finally going to speak up. Or maybe I’m still that stupid girl who’s hoping this unattainable man will fall for me. Although his overbearing behavior is often too much for me, even in his fury, Michael’s annoyingly handsome and...charmingly protective. I keep detecting that in him, but this attraction I can’t shake frightens me to my core.
At that moment, I shiver again and steal a glance around, suddenly wondering if Michael would follow us. But I don’t spot a dark blue BMW at the curb here or across the street. Regardless, there was a certainty in Michael’s voice that makes me distrust Ivo as well.
Especially when Ivo reaches inside his jacket pocket. “I have to take this call.” Standing up, he leaves the terrace, going out of hearing range.
Again, he has a different phone, which I had forgotten about since my mind is all over the place. I also recall that he had a gun in his car. While I pretend to scan the menu, I notice Ivo glancing at me as he returns.
“There’s a work-related emergency. I’m so sorry, but I have to go.” He appears nervous and upset.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Um...okay,” I say since I’m perfectly fine with ending this date that I forgot about anyway. “Why don’t you go ahead; I’ll just get a cab.”
“That would be great. I’ll call you, okay?” he finishes, and without waiting for an answer, he hurries out of the terrace and jumps into his car.
He didn’t even insist on escorting me home. Although I didn’t want him to, I do think it makes him less of a gentleman. Nevertheless, I easily forget about Ivo and hail a cab to take me to the Ivory.
ONCE I’M BACK AT MY apartment, I’m picking up my phone from where Michael threw it on the couch and I notice his gun on the chaise. I smile, remembering how we first met three months ago when I found his gun at Palermo. Then I frown, though, because knowing what I know now, I don’t believe he forgot it by accident. But even if that is the case, my gut tells me to trust Michael’s suspicion of Ivo. The fact that he has multiple phones is definitely a red flag.
I bite my lip and type a message to Michael, hesitating once before I press send.
Brielle: You left your gun.
I prepare to wait for agonizing moments for a reply, but it comes instantly.
Michael: I know.
Brielle: Why did you leave it?
Michael: So that you have protection.
Warmness settles in my veins because he’s being protective again, and before I know it, I tell him more.
Brielle: Ivo has several phones and carries a gun
too. Did you know?
Michael: Yes.
Brielle: Is that why you don’t trust him?
Michael: Partly, yes.
I’m surprised he’s being forthcoming. Then a bang has me jumping in my spot, and although I realize the upstairs neighbor must have dropped something heavy, I still feel uneasy.
Brielle: Our talk has made me feel...nervous.
Michael: Why?
Brielle: I don’t know.
Michael: Don’t worry. Just be careful. Can you promise me that?
I nod and type it in.
Brielle: Yeah, I’m careful. Promise.
Then I don’t get a reply for over a minute and stand up just as my phone chimes.
Michael: Look outside, down at the entrance.
I look out the window at the front of the building and see a black SUV parallel parking.
Michael: See the black SUV? That’s your guard – a Palermo guard. There’s no need to worry, okay?
How utterly sweet. I bite my lip, feeling much calmer because of him, even though he’s the one who made me worry in the first place.
Brielle: You didn’t have to do that.
Michael: I wanted to.
Brielle: Thank you.
Michael: I do this only for you, Duchenne.
Smiling, I go into the bedroom. His considerate behavior is irresistible and I always fall for it, no matter what he’s done in the past. Nonetheless, I want to talk to Marliya and verify some things before I climb back up on cloud nine, so I don’t respond. Instead, I decide to just watch TV the rest of the night, and when I slow down for what feels like the first time in days, I realize that everything moves in fast-forward in this decadent Palermo life, although I find that I enjoy it and can go with the flow quite easily.
Eventually, I manage to turn off my incessant thoughts about Michael, Ivo, and Palermo, simply because Michael makes me feel safe, as if I’m not alone anymore, and the one thing I long for is to not feel lonely.
AFTER A HECTIC MONDAY night rush hour ends at around eight p.m., I remove my chef’s jacket since it was hot inside the kitchen. Thankfully, I’m wearing an ankle-length floral summer dress with spaghetti straps, so I cool off quickly. As I go through the kitchen door, I take the band from my hair to undo my ponytail and let my long, slightly curled hair fall down my back.