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“This is Tyson Crowe, the man you demanded be added to your security detail in the club,” Damien says as Aria flips him off. “Mature. Love you too, squirt. Although, if you tell anybody that, I’ll deny it.”
“Stop running your mouth before I punch you in the stab wound,” she says, her smile sweet as she looks up at her brother.
I watch the family but there seems to be something off about them. There’s a tension in the room that wasn’t there a week ago. Antonio starts talking about the attack in the club and the siblings exchange a look I can’t quite decode. Something is shifting in a situation I thought I knew.
“Anyways, I have business to attend to. Tyson, you start working now,” Antonio says before turning and leaving the room. Damien glares at me before following him.
Once they are gone and the doors are shut behind them, Aria turns to me. There’s a smirk on her face but the teasing look doesn’t meet her eyes.
“What am I missing here?” I ask, keeping my tone low in case there’s anyone else here.
“Nothing,” Aria says, shrugging as she heads to the door. “Now come on, pretty boy. I have shopping to do and you’re going to be carrying my bags.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say, following her out of the room. “That’s not my job.”
Aria spins around and fixes me with a steady stare and a smile. Suddenly, I know why Damien said she is a viper’s worst nightmare.
“Your job is going to be whatever I say it is for the time being. Which means that if I tell you that we’re going shopping and you’re going to carry the bags, that means that we’re going shopping and you’re carrying the bags.”
“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth, knowing that I really don’t have a choice in the matter. I have to act like any of her other bodyguards would.
“Good boy,” Aria says, standing on her toes and reaching up to pat the top of my head.
“If we were anywhere else right now, your ass would be handed to you,” I whisper, looking down at her as she chuckles and shakes her head.
“Come on, pretty boy. I have lingerie to buy.”
I follow her as she cackles. If this is what being a glorified babysitter is going to be like, I’m in for trouble.
9
ARIA
It’s been three days since Tyson moved his life into the bedroom beside mine and I’ve never used my vibrator more. The poor thing is getting a workout and I’m sure I’m going to need new batteries soon.
There’s nothing that can put me to sleep tonight as I listen to the soft music playing through the wall we share. I wish that we could talk openly with each other but it’s too dangerous. We can’t risk anyone hearing us. There’s so much I want to tell him, though. I want to say anything and everything I can to protect my brothers even though I know it will be futile in the end.
They are nearly as guilty as my father and there is no protecting them. Even getting the agreement to protect myself was hard enough.
I sigh and get out of bed, pacing around my room. The more I think about everything that I’m involved in, the more I wonder if it is a good idea after all. My father is a bad man, I know that, but he is still my father.
The more I think about it, the less I want to spend my life wrapped up with the mafia. I want to break free and start a life on my own but it looks like the only way I can do that is to tell the FBI everything I know and move on with my life.
Except, I’ll be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life and wondering if anyone is coming after me.
I sigh and run a hand through my hair before getting back into bed. I haven’t gotten any sleep in the last few nights. I need to try tonight. If I’m too tired, I might start slipping. There is no way I can risk saying too much in front of anyone that might tell my father.
I don’t want to die just yet.
With a groan, I roll over onto my side and pull my blankets higher. I snuggle deep into the warmth, closing my eyes and trying to convince myself to sleep.
After a few minutes, I can feel someone watching me. There is a squeak as my balcony door opens. I reach beneath one of my pillows, wrapping my hand around the hilt of my knife as a blade is pressed against my throat.
“Come quietly and I won’t hurt you,” a man says, his tone rough as one of his hands wraps around my bicep.
The moment the knife falls away from my neck and I’m standing beside my bed, I scream. The man is caught off guard for a moment before he lunges forward, his knife swinging. I dive inside his attack, tripping him.
As soon as he hits the ground, I’m on top of him. Tyson comes crashing into my room as I disarm the man and press my own knife to his neck. The man stops squirming beneath me, letting out a muttered curse as Tyson keeps his gun trained on the man’s head.
