But it’s Massimo who really freezes the breath in my lungs. He isn’t holding a knife. He’s wielding a gun.
The matte black of it looks almost casual in his hand, like something he’s more familiar with than the pasta he serves our clientele daily. His eyes flicker over me, then Razor, then back to me again. They’re weighing, judging … calculating.
“Come here,cara(Dear),” Massimo says, keeping his gaze trained on the bikies as he speaks. “Now, Emily,” he adds a little firmer when I don’t obey, but I can’t seem to get my feet to move. Massimo steps forward and grasps my elbow, tugging me back towards him. “Go to the kitchen and call Dominic,” he whispers, gently shoving me in that direction.
My legs feel like jelly, but I somehow manage to do as he asks. My hands are trembling as I snag my bag from the office and fumble inside for my phone.
My fingers finally close around my mobile, but they’re shaking so badly I almost drop it.
I manage to press the screen to wake it, and I can still hear the low rumble of voices coming from the dining room. Razor’s words sound clipped and irritated, but Massimo’s remain calm in an unnerving way, which tells me he’s anything but.
I step back into the kitchen, ducking low behind the prep counter. Massimo has the gun raised now. It’s aimed squarely at the bikies.
Their hands are up, but the scowls etched across their faces make it clear they’re far from pleased.
Massimo runs a restaurant owned by theFamiglia. He’s done so for many years, but I’ve only ever seen him as a chef or my boss. Now I’m starting to wonder if he’s actually a mobster as well. He carries the same controlled, measuredpresence as Dominic and the others. Any normal person wouldn’t stay this calm with a gun in hand and two angry bikies staring them down.
I squat behind the stainless-steel prepping bench as I wait for the call to connect. “Dominic,” I whisper down the line as soon as he answers.
“Em … is everything okay?”
“Some of Mick’s bikie friends are here looking for him. They?—”
“Fuck. I’m on my way,” he grumbles, cutting me off before I get a chance to say anything else.
I stare down at the screen, and my breath hitches when the call disconnects. For a second, all I hear is my heartbeat thudding in my ears.
I risk another quick glance over the top of the bench. Massimo hasn’t moved. The gun is now aimed directly at Razor’s head.
“I’m going to count to three,” Massimo says. “The way I see it, you’ve got two choices: you either walk out of here, or you get carried out in a body bag.”
Holy crap.
I duck back down, my heart hammering so hard it vibrates through my ribs. Massimo’s voice rolls through the kitchen, calm but cold enough to freeze the air.
“One.”
I suck in a breath and hold it.
“You obviously have no idea who we are,” Razor’s sidekick barks.
Is he kidding? Does he not know who owns this restaurant? I’m sure I mentioned it to Mick. Would they have still come in here and thrown their weight around if they did?
“Two,” Massimo says, not bothering to acknowledge what he said.
A tense moment stretches out. I can’t see Razor’s face from here, but I can almost feel his pride fighting with hissurvival instinct. I’m sure Mick would do the same in this situation. He and his mates have always acted like they run the world.
Massimo’s voice drops lower, steadier, as if he’s done this a hundred times. “Three.”
I clench my eyes closed and place my hands over my ears, in preparation for the gunshot, but it doesn’t come.
“Fine,” Razor spits. “But this isn’t over. Tell Emily I’ll be seeing her.”
“Go near her again, and it’ll be the last move you ever make,” Massimo warns.
I’m pretty sure it was only a handful of minutes before the place was swarmed by the Mafia … Dante, Dominic, Romeo, and some of their men, but it felt like an eternity. Every second stretched tight as my chest rose and fell with a nervous rhythm that wouldn’t quit. I needed my inhaler, but I felt paralysed and unable to move.
Massimo stayed where he was, gun still in hand, guarding the door until the troops arrived.
