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Ravenmaster: Did anyone see you?
Raven: My brother did, and his two closest friends. Aside from my men, it’s the best bonding exercise I’ve ever been a part of.
Ravenmaster: I take my eyes off you for a few hours and you forget all the rules?
Raven: Oh please, it was my brother. He even took me to his own personal kill room. And they helped dispose of the body. In this case, your trust issues are worse than mine.
Ravenmaster: New rule.
Ravenmaster: The ninth rule of killing: Make sure at least one of your men is involved.
Raven: Oh, I really like this rule. It sounds like so much fun.
Raven: All the ideas coming to mind…
“I want to have some fun with you, Ravenmaster,” I purr out loud with a playful tone and give the phone’s camera a wink, knowing that he’s watching.
Ravenmaster: Someone seems to be in a good mood. Did you miss me?
Raven: Are you searching for compliments?
Ravenmaster: Just the truth.
Raven: There’s a good possibility.
Ravenmaster: I might have to reconsider the benefits of you spending the day with your brother if you come back like this.
Raven: A break from all the lies does a woman good. What can I say?
Raven: Speaking of which… are you ready to share the truth with me?
Ravenmaster: And here I thought I escaped this one last night.
Ravenmaster: You know I’m in your daily life. Can’t that be enough for you?
“Not even close, asshole,” I growl at the phone screen before throwing it face down on the bed.
“Raven, please don’t,” comes mumbled through the speaker, the sound distorted by the bedding. I flip the phone over recognizing the smooth voice of my stalker. This is the first time he’s ever spoken to me outside of being in person. “I’m working through an addiction to being anonymous. Just… bear with me.” His tone is pleading, like he’s worried about the risk of me cutting him off permanently.
One thing is clear, my stalker is obsessed with me, and I’m worried how he might react with a true threat of losing me. Now the question is, do I want to dance that fine line?
The smell of coffee and bacon reaches me, causing my stomach to grumble with hunger. How that’s even possible with how much I ate last night is beyond me. I stumble over the suitcase I forgot I placed at the foot of the bed, and quickly pull a change of clothes out. Last night when we got here, all my bags were already waiting in this room.
It shouldn’t surprise me that he had my bags removed from the plane, these mafia men seem to think they rule the world, but on the other hand, it’s nice to know he wanted to make sure my needs were taken care of before I even asked.
I’m tempted to leave my new phone behind, but slip it into my back pocket before walking out the doorway in search of what smells so delicious. Halfway down the hallway, I have a change of heart, but instead of leaving my phone behind, I beeline for my bathroom and remove the plug Ravenmaster left in me.
Placing it on the counter after washing it, I give it a frown. Fuck, that would have been so much fun. But taking this away from him seems like the best way to show my displeasure without pushing him over the edge of his sanity. It seemed like being cut off from me yesterday had him too close to the other side.
When I reach the kitchen, I find Luca standing in front of the stove with a spatula in hand. The sizzling pop of bacon covers my approach as I slide into one of the seats sitting at the island, but it doesn’t take long for my presence to be given away.
“Hey there, gorgeous! Trade you some joe for a kiss,” Matteo offers with a wag of his eyebrows. He slides a cup of steaming coffee in front of me, moving it back and forth to tempt me.
A solid smack to the back of his head has him lurching forward. “Drop the coffee, and stop taunting my sorella. You’re my best friend, but I swear you’re fucking stupid if you think she won’t cut your dick off. At this point, you’d deserve it, and I wouldn’t even feel sorry for you,“ my brother growls out, pushing his friend from the seat next to me.
I try to hide the smirk I get from the thought of cutting off dicks, but right now it’s not Matteo’s I’m imagining. “Morning,” I mumble, picking up the creamer in front of me and fixing the coffee into something drinkable.
All three of them are shirtless, showing how comfortable they are around me. Or maybe their habits are so ingrained they didn’t even think about it. Either way, I don’t have to avoid eye contact with a stray nipple for long because Luca turns around and serves a plate full of eggs, bacon, sausage, and pancakes. He prepared a full breakfast spread. My brother even slides a glass of orange juice in front of me.
