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I put my hand on my chest. My heart’s racing. “You scared the shit out of me. How long have you been there?”
“Not long. It takes me a while to get down here from the office.” He tilts his head to the side, studying me.
I wipe my face, embarrassed and angry. I hate that I let myself be so vulnerable around this man. He’ll use it against me if given the chance. “How’d you know where to find me?”
“Lucky guess.”
“Yeah, well, here I am. Did you come down here to tell me I was wrong for yelling at my dad? Because I’m not sorry I did that. I’m only sorry I didn’t call him all the things I’ve been dreaming up these last fifteen years.”
He limps forward into the room. I’m struck all over at his presence. Even injured, Fynn’s a brute of a man, and he dominates the space like he owns the very air we breathe. I’m very aware of my tear-streaked face, my messy makeup, my sloppy clothes.
But I do catch his eyes stray to the necklace and down to my cleavage, and I feel that familiar spark in my guts.
“I don’t blame you for saying what you said to your father. If I were in your position, I might’ve done the same, if not worse. It wasn’t my idea to bring him into this place, if that helps at all.”
That catches me off guard. My mouth opens, and I’m not sure what to say as a hundred different things flash through my mind. “I thought you were angry that I called him out like that.”
“No, Mirella. I’m not angry you told the man that ran out on your family to fuck off. I have no love for men that don’t honor their commitments and take care of the people in their lives. If he were under my command, he would’ve been thrown out of the Famiglia a long time ago for what he did to you and your mother, but my father was much more forgiving than I am.”
“Then why are you looking at me like you want to throw me down a flight of stairs?” My heart’s racing and I feel a strange blossom in my stomach. He agrees with me—he even thinks my father’s an asshole for what he did. I assumed Fynn would defend my father since mafia bastards tend to stick together, but that’s not what this is about.
Slowly, ice water in my veins dampens my sudden excitement.
If it’s not about that, then it’s about something else. Something potentially worse.
“You were disrespectful to my brother.” He comes forward. A step, another step. He’s near now, within arm’s reach. A hulking monster. “I don’t think you fully understand how this works yet, which is the only reason I’m not bending you over my knee and spanking your ass raw. My brother Casso is the Don of our Famiglia, and that title demands your respect. Even if you’re angry, even if you disagree with something he said or did, you can never, ever talk to him the way you spoke to him earlier. You will be deferential and polite and kind in all your interactions with the Don, and if you ever snap at him again, you will be punished. Severely punished.”
I blink into his face as my brain goes back over what happened in the room, and yes, I did snap at him, Fynn’s right. I realize now that Casso hadn’t meant anything by what he said—actually, I think he was trying to defuse the situation and get my father out of there—but he set me off.
“You’re right,” I say, hanging my head slightly, cheeks on fire. “I shouldn’t have done that. I was just caught up in the moment and I forgot where I am.”
“You are in the Bruno Famiglia’s home, and Casso is the master here. You will find him and you will apologize. I suspect he will forgive you, because my brother is a decent and understanding man, but do not misunderstand. He will not be so kind a second time, and I won’t either.” He closes the distance between us then and I look up, afraid of what he’s about to do, afraid he’s going to hurt me for breaking the rules and for embarrassing him in front of his family. I might even deserve it—a little hurt for opening my stupid mouth and ruining everything.
Instead, he pulls me to my feet, touches my lower back, and gathers me against him in a tight hug.
I’m surprised at first, but I melt into it as tears spring into my eyes. I hug him back, holding him tight and breathing his musky, spicy smell. His breathing is a deep rumble in his chest, and his heart hammers a slow and steady rhythm, so calm and collected, the total opposite of me.
