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Yes.
Yes.
"No," I yell back, "I am tired of being kept a prisoner here. Tired of being held without anyone telling me how long I am going to be here."
There’s silence for a beat, then another.
"It’s why I’ve come here," he retorts, "to tell you what’s going to happen next."
"Do you think I am going to believe you?"
"I hope you are standing clear, Aurora," he says in a low pitched voice. "I am coming through."
I straighten, stare at the door. He’s joking. He’s not really going to batter down that door, is he?
"Get back, Aurora!" he growls. "Now!"
I jump, stumble back, just as he smashes into the door. The wood creaks, groans. The coffee table I’ve wedged against the door screeches forward. I yelp, slide back a few more steps. Just in time. For there’s another crash.
The entire door whines, then the doors fly off the hinges.
I scream, turn and race toward the bedroom, then close the door and bolt it. I sink down against it, and my shoulders shudder.
Shit, shit, shit. What is wrong with me? Why did I try to shut him out? I should have known I couldn’t win, that he’d find a way to come inside. But the truth is, I am tired of sitting here in this house, trying to figure out what is going to happen to me next. Tired of not knowing my fate. Tired of being punished for helping out my friend Karma. She’d wanted to escape her husband, the then Capo—now Don Michael Sovrano, and of course, I couldn’t say no to helping her.
I’d known how dangerous it was to do so. To go against the leader of the Cosa Nostra is to bring death to yourself and to your family… I’d known it, and yet, something in me had not been able to turn her down. I’d recognized another woman in need and something in me had snapped.
Maybe it’s all the time spent as a woman in the heart of the Mafia. Knowing that we are often seen as disposable. Interchangeable. Good only to procreate, as wives as mistresses, as objects to be lusted after, but never respected as individuals with our own minds, who could control our own destinies.
And you know what? I, sure as hell, am going to control my future… At least, that’s what I had thought… That’s what I had aimed for during all of my years growing up. And while the Capo had paid off my father’s debts and paid for me to go to medical school in London, and I had accepted it then...because it had seemed like the only way to find my way out of the situation that I had been born into—I don’t owe him anything. Right?
Clearly, he’d done it so he could indenture my family, ensure that he’d bought our loyalty and those of any future generations. Only I am not going to accept my fate.
It was this streak of defiance in me that had urged me to help Karma. I had treated her when she’d been brought into the hospital in Palermo. She’d been faking the illness, of course, as she’d warned me she would. I had examined her, nevertheless, so the situation would appear as genuine as possible—and discovered that she was pregnant.
I hadn’t been able to stop myself from revealing that to her husband. We had returned to her room and found her gone… And the Capo would have killed me on the spot except... His brother, Christian had intervened. He’d saved my life that day, and I suppose, I should be grateful for it.
Only, I am not sure about his intentions toward me. Since that day, he’s shadowed me wherever I go. Oh, he hasn’t made a move on me or anything like that… I wish he would. That way, I’d know what he wants from me. No, he simply watches me with that gray-blue gaze of his that seems to peer into my soul.
He’s the person who accompanied me when I went to see Karma while she was pregnant.
She’d lost her child in an unfortunate incident when her car had been rigged with a bomb which, luckily for her, had turned out to be a defective. Although it had killed Xander, Christian’s twin. Turned out, it was their father who was behind it. Michael had ended up killing his father, and becoming Don, and Christian is now even more firmly entrenched in the inner circle of the leader of the Cosa Nostra. So the question is, why is this man, who can have any woman in the city—hell, on the continent, even—beating down the door to my bedroom?
"Go away," I yell as I slap my hands on my ears. "Get the hell away from me…you…you asshole!"
"Now, play nice, Flower," Christian drawls. I can hear him from the other side of the door. Hell, I can all but feel the heat of his body as it permeates through the wood, which is likely my imagination. But every time I’ve been near him, it’s as if I’ve stepped past a furnace. The man has so much vitality, he can probably light up an entire Christmas tree by his proximity. I snort.
That’s fanciful thinking. Probably because I spent Christmas Day shut up in here, feeling sorry for myself. Hell, even criminals in jails get to celebrate Christmas. I had spent it locked up here, and except for the brief time on Christmas Eve when Christian had come in to check on me and had lent me his phone so I could call Karma, I had been alone. At least, I hadn’t starved. The fridge had been full of food, as had the pantry, so there was more than enough to eat. Still, it didn’t fill the void left by being alone, on the one day of the year when every family is together.
Karma had wanted to organize a Christmas gathering, but Xander’s death, and then her losing her baby, had put paid to that. Christian had updated me that she was spending time in London, had even given me his phone so I could speak with her. A favor I hadn’t wanted to accept, but which I didn’t turn down, starved of company as I had been.
But everyone has a limit, and I have reached mine. No way, am I going to allow myself to be shut up inside here. I want to leave this prison, go see my family, lead a normal life…or else… I am willing to die. Yeah, not being dramatic here…
When you live in the heart of the Mafia community, death is as much a part of life as going out to dinner is. And I…like it or not, am one of them.
I grew up surrounded by macho guys who think they own the world. And you know what? I have spent enough time among them to be able to play them at their own game. I am not going to let one of them scare me, no matter that he happens to be big, brooding and growly, and sexy and…hot…and that he turns me on by just a glance. I am not going to let my attraction to him get in the way. No. I am going to tell him exactly where he can shove this awareness he seems to have for me, the one which has him pushing his shoulder into the door and applying his weight so the entire barrier shakes.
"Open the door, Flower," he rumbles, "or I am going to break this down and come inside and then you are going to regret shutting me out."
