AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No, don’t want someone getting the wrong idea about the company I keep,” I said and swung out of the car, slamming the car door a little harder than I meant.
It peeled off immediately, and as it vanished, the punctured bubble of happiness in my heart seemed to deflate entirely. All I wanted was to crawl into bed.
No, come on. You had a good day with Dad. He laughed, you talked…
“Sort of,” I muttered and kicked at the ground. With a sigh, I swung around and headed towards the sturdy sandstone building on the corner. A doorman nodded as he opened the glass door and I slipped in, using my keycard to swipe in the first entrance, and then a FOB to gain access to the next. In the lobby, there were alert security guards and another doorman, all of whom bid me good evening.
As much as I’d wanted to live in a walk-up, my father had put his foot down. This level of security was the most lenient that he’d agree to when I’d told him I wanted to live on my own.
In the elevator, I tried to cheer myself up. This had been a long week, regardless of whether I’d taken down of my father’s greatest enemies. A small laugh escaped me as the doors opened. From the semi-grainy pictures of Maurizio Scarfone online, I’d built an idea of the man and I kept picturing his dumbfounded face when he realized that his scheme had fucked him over. Not only that, but I’d reported his accounts to federal agencies, which meant at least a few of them had to be locked down and inaccessible.
I dragged myself down the hallway, yawning and wondering if I should call Clara, when my eyes were drawn to a small crack of light between my door and the frame.
Adrenaline surged through me, causing me to take an automatic half-step back. My hand flew to my bag, where I discovered the heavy silver pocketknife Erik had given me when I'd gone to college.
Moving forward, I told myself that it was more than likely maintenance or some other reasonable explanation.
If someone had broken in, they wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave the door cracked.
Unless they wanted you to know they did,whispered a voice of warning in the back of my head.Unless they wanted to see what you’d do—if you’d run or hide.
Fuck that, I scoffed to myself. I’d trained with Bratva since birth to defend myself.
Glad that I’d opted for a light pair of combat boots, I noiselessly entered my loft and my eyes flashed around the little hallway. Empty, as was the kitchen just off it, and the bathroom on the other side.
I wrinkled my nose as a sweet but pungent smell hit me.Smoke?
Annoyance curdled in my stomach, and I quietly dropped my bag, then moved forward, and turned into the living room. Without meaning to, a soft sound of surprise escaped me.
A man stood in front of the massive picture window that dominated the living room wall, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a cigar to his lips. I could just make out the glow of the ring in the glass's reflection, while he was shrouded in shadow, staring out at the view as if he owned it. The rest of the neighborhood's downward slope, the arch of the evening sky, and the glitter of the city rising in the distance.
Something pulsed inside of me, but it was swallowed by the adrenaline and rage—because even though I knew he’d heard me, he hadn’t moved.
Okay, fuck this guy.
Mustering every iota of scorn that I possessed, I asked, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
I saw a quick glint of white teeth in the reflection, a smirk that only grew as he turned around and took the cigar from between a pair of sculpted, full lips. Shock pinned me in place as recognition flooded me, along with something potent zinging up my spine.
“I think you know who I am, Elena Fedulova,” Maurizio Scarfone purred.
Scarfone’s voice was as decadent and rough as the expensive cigar smoke he’d filled the room with, as heady as sin and twice as dangerous. His voice pulled at you, the faintest drop of an Italian accent dancing through his words, and it distracted me for a good ten seconds until I realized what he’d said.
Holy shit. He knows—he knows my name?
The apartment was listed under an alias and my father had paid a king’s ransom to ensure that no oneeverfound I lived here. So, how…?
He took a step forward and without thinking, I threw out my hand, hitting the light switch.
My gut clenched as Scarfone blinked in the light and then gave me a lazy, satisfied grin.
Oh, his pictures had not done him justice. And from the look on his face, he knew that. He used that to his advantage. Or maybe no film could capture the way he filled a space, from the golden sheen of his deep olive skin to the strange deep amber of his eyes—the way his hard body flaunted his bespoke suit and not the other way around. For all the polish of his outfit, though, it was in direct contrast with the wavy dark locks falling to his shoulders and into those haunting eyes, never mind the overgrown scruff on his face.
It was as though Scarfone dressed the part, but nothing could contain what he was—the devil himself, standing in my living room.
“Seems I don’t have to introduce myself.” Scarfone laughed and stubbed out his cigar the armrest of my sofa, causing my jaw to clench. “I like your apartment, Elena.Killerview. Does your daddy pay for it or does the computer shit cover it?”
My heartbeat began to pound in my throat. Fear wanted to pin me down, scream, or beg for my life, but instead I tried to find the calm and collected place I'd dug into myself as a child to protect myself from an unpredictable, sometimes violent mother.
