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I bark an awkward, uncomfortable laugh, not sure if I can actually believe what I’m hearing. This man sitting in front of me right now is the patient, the one that needs therapy, and he says it’ll have to be extensive. I’m guessing that means multiple sessions per week, possibly daily if he’s as bad as he’s implying. In exchange, they’ll pay me in their blood money, and I’ll be expected to keep my mouth shut.
Fynn Bruno. The son of the Don himself, last time I heard. This gorgeous devil wants me to be his personal therapist, and the idea of touching him, stretching him, working with him, dealing with this monster’s gaze is a horrible hell I can barely imagine. It’s like a knife is at my throat, a glittering, jeweled knife with a diamond blade. Beautiful, expensive, and deadly.
I can’t do this. I’ve spent my life hating mafia assholes like these guys ever since my dad ran out on me and Mom when I was only ten years old. I know what men like them want, and it’s all selfish aggrandizement and power. They don’t care about anything but themselves and their precious mafia family, and they’ll gladly eat me up, chew me down to the bone, and swallow me whole if it means they’ll get what they want.
I won’t walk away from this alive.
I’m nothing to them and taking this job might be the last thing I ever do.
But how the hell do I say no to one of the most powerful men in the city?
“I don’t… I’m not sure… I have to get a job with a real practice. I have student loans, and for my long-term career…” I’m stuttering and sputtering now, not sure how to turn him down without getting my head chopped off. I very much want to stay alive.
“I’ll pay your student loans.”
I nearly gag. “It’s a lot.”
“I don’t care. Consider them paid, if you take this job.”
“But a practice… I’ll need professional experience. I can’t exactly put this on my resume, right?”
“We know doctors that can get you a job after we’re finished.” Fynn glances at Nico, who shrugs and nods.
“Shouldn’t be hard,” Nico says.
“Student loans paid. A new job secured.” Fynn stares thunder at me, his gaze so piercing and intense it makes me squirm in my chair like a little kid. His beauty is overwhelming and I don’t want to feel this way, I don’t want it at all. I reach for my hate and hold on to it as tightly as I can to stem the tide of desire that threatens to overwhelm my mind. Fynn continues, “Plus I’ll pay another two hundred thousand dollars. That should be plenty to compensate you.”
I nearly cry. That kind of money would change my entire life. Two hundred grand, plus no more loans, plus a new job—that could put me on the path to serious financial stability for the first time ever. It’s almost impossible to imagine. I could buy Mom a new car, finally pay off her mortgage, hell, maybe I could get her to quit her waitressing job and retire—
And all I’d have to do is sell out.
Work with a killer beast.
A sick, beautiful bastard.
“What’s the catch?” I ask because I’m here and I know there’s a catch. There’s always a catch with mafia thugs.
Gavino laughs and nudges Fynn. “The girl’s smart.”
“Too smart,” Nico says.
Fynn keeps watching me, like he can’t help himself. “You won’t be able to talk about our work together. Your contract will be for two months with the possibility of an extension and more money, depending on how I progress. For the duration, you’ll come live with us at Villa Bruno, mostly for your protection but also for my privacy. We’ll work together every day, and I can promise you, I will be a very serious patient. No bullshit, Mirella. No arguments. If you come work for me, we’ll both be all-in. I don’t do things halfway.”
I push my chair back from the table and stand on shaking legs. I look down at Fynn and Gavino and Nico, and I think about what they’re offering: a future, a reprieve from the horrible cycle of poverty I’ve found myself locked inside. All that money can change so much for my family, and the thought of it makes me want to cry.
“I’m sorry, I have to respectfully decline.” I step away from the table, because if I don’t start moving now, I might change my mind and accept his offer.
Which I can’t do, under any circumstances.
Because if I do, they’ll destroy me. I know their type, and they’ll ruin me, just like Dad ruined Mom and me.
“Give it some thought,” Fynn says, head tilted, lips pursed gorgeously. “If you want more money, that can be arranged.”
“I can’t,” I say, shaking my head. I turn away from the table and walk fast to the door, so fast that a couple blank pages slip from my folder and fall to the floor. I leave them where they drop, unwilling to hesitate for even a second.
