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I poke my head into the hallway and glare at Benny. “Wrong unit. I’m going to stay here. Go next door and deal with Greg.”
Benny grimaces, but that’s all the apology I need. Paul and Benny exit, leaving me in the dark with the owner of the now smashed window.
I hold up my hands and feel around, searching for the light, so we can take the fear down a notch. “I’m Giovanni Moretti. Do you know who my family is?”
“Please don’t hurt me!” Her sobs tug at my heart because I didn’t mean to cause them. This isn’t the kind of reputation our name needs. We want respect, not nonsensical fear.
I switch on the light, bathing the room in brightness that draws my eyes right to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in real life.
Messy brown hair that looks like it must be pure tangled silk, big hazel eyes and skin so smooth, I wonder if she’s some sort of genetic wonder. Her cheekbones are high, her jaw slender, and her lips…
I trace my tongue over my lower lip, wishing I’d run a comb through my hair in the past week. I probably look a mess.
I should just throw money at the problem and move on, but I find myself dragging a chair from the corner of her room to her bedside, leaving a healthy three feet of space between my chair and her bed, where she is hugging her knees to her chest, sitting atop her bed in pajama shorts and a tank top.
I sit down as if I belong here, as if I have been invited. I keep my body language non-confrontational and my cadence low so as not to exacerbate the situation more than I already have. “I’m Giovanni Moretti, and you are about the be the luckiest woman in the world.”
She whimpers in response, no doubt guessing I mean something else entirely.
I lean back in my seat and motion to the front of the house. “I made a mistake tonight. See, your neighbor works for my family, and he owes me a great deal of money. When that happens, we do fun things like bust open front windows and make a person’s life miserable until we get what we’re owed.” I jerk my thumb to the wall, where we begin to hear shouting. “We thought this unit was Greg’s, so we made the wrong person miserable.” I motion to her, trying to remain stoic while a fat tear rolls down her beautifully flushed cheek. “You’re a very fortunate woman, Miss…”
“Melissa. I’m Melissa.”
“Melissa.” Her name rolls off my tongue with an odd twist, and the second I say it, a new sensation comes over me. It’s the calm I’ve been searching for, but I’ve been going about getting there via sex, which didn’t work. “Melissa,” I say again, and for the first time, I exhale a portion of my stress.
I can’t say the same for her. The poor woman is shaking, hugging her knees to her chest atop her single mattress.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Melissa, my mistake means I owe you a favor. One big enough to make up for the smashed window and that terrified look in your eye. You didn’t cross my family; Greg did. I make good on my debts, so when you tell me what you’d like, you’d better shoot for the moon. Give me something to reach for so I feel like I earned your forgiveness.”
Am I groveling?I cringe internally.
She blinks at me with those big hazel eyes. “You’re not going to hurt me?”
I take a handkerchief from my pocket. I usually use it to wipe my fingerprints, but today, it has a higher calling. I could hand it to her so she can dab at her own cheeks, but the temptation is too strong to resist. I keep my movements slow, so she can back away from me if she wishes. “This is my mess, so let me clean it up for you.” I mean the window, of course, but also the tears I caused.
Shit, I feel terrible. She can’t be more than twenty-five years old. This is no doubt her first slice of adulthood, and I’m ruining it for her.
She doesn’t shy away or shove me when I lift off my seat so I can dab at her slick cheeks. Her lower lip is trembling.
To my credit, I don’t suck on that plump swell, though it’s all I want to do.
Well, notall.
Of course this is the time my dick springs to life. Where was the bastard when he had ample opportunity to shoot his load into Crystal? Now that I’ve got a crying woman whom I’ve clearly wronged, he wants to come out and play.
I practically swoon when Melissa leans into my touch, her thick lashes fluttering as if I’ve granted her an exhale, and not the other way around.
“You have a gun?” she asks, sniffling while I gently clear away her tears.
“You don’t have to worry about my gun, doll. It’s not for you.” That’s exactly what she looks like—a doll with curly tangled hair and innocence beaming off her features.
I straighten because my thumb is tempted to trace that full lower lip.
Melissa looks up at me, this time without the terror and only a current of worry that seems to have existed before I arrived in a most unwelcome way. “Could your gun help me? Could that be my favor?”
Her question raises my brow and a whole slew of questions. I take my time picking the most important. “Why do you need my gun, Melissa?”
Her voice lowers to a whisper. “I know he’ll find me.”
