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I stand by my bedroom window and take a breath as I hear the shower going. The image of her naked body runs through my mind, so I quickly grab my supply of bandages and patch up my wound before I rummage through my closet and change clothes. I am out the door in under five minutes, ready to go down to our lower levels to meet my team for a debrief on this morning's activities.
On my way out the door, I stop in the kitchen, seeing my son Leo perched up at the bench eating breakfast, looking sleepy in his favorite Lego pajamas. His hair stands on end as he slurps up what looks like a bowl of cheerios while Maria is nearby, standing at the oven, busy making sugo.
“Hey, buddy,” I say to Leo, kissing his head and ruffling his hair. He smiles, his eyes wide with happiness at seeing me, but he remains silent.
Words have not left his lips in over three years, since that goddam sex party his mother took him to without any consideration for him or me. All these years later, I still don’t know how to get him to talk. I have spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on teachers, tutors, shrinks, and doctors, both here in New York and in Italy, who all tell me the same thing. He will talk once he is ready. Once he feels safe again. Until that time, we burn through homeschool teachers because no one can get through to him, and he buries himself in books and Legos, sticking to his room and Maria like glue.
Maria and I share a look over the steaming pot of sauce. She has been my housekeeper for over a decade and loves Leo as much as I do. She cooks, she cleans, she babysits, and both Leo and I love her like she is our Nonna. The only problem is that she is over 60 and getting too old to do all the work we need—even if her traditional cooking is unsurpassed. I lost both my parents years ago, so she fills that void in me. I will do anything for her, including letting her retire back in Italy if that is what she wants to do. Although, I hope I can keep her for a little while longer.
“Maria. I have a houseguest in my room who will be staying for a while. Can you please take up some breakfast for her and ensure she has everything she needs?” I ask, and she smiles at me broadly with a glint in her eye that I rarely see.
“Of course, darling. Leave the pretty young thing to me,” she says cheerfully, and I sigh. Little Red is the first woman who has been in this house since I kicked my ex-wife out years ago. That’s not to say I haven’t had other women, because I have. Many, in fact. But I never bring them here. They never get close to Leo or my space. Looking at Maria now, her smile a mile wide, I get the feeling that she and Little Red will become firm friends in a matter of hours. She has been dying for another woman to be in this house, and it appears she thinks this one will be staying.
I don’t have time to explain things to her, so leaving Maria to manage the houseguest situation, I shake my head and kiss Leo again before I walk out the door and down the maze of corridors to our meeting rooms. With Little Red front and center in my mind, I wonder how old she is and where she came from. Her face shows a world of innocence, purity, and all these possessive thoughts I have of her need to stop.
I pace through the corridors, frustrated that within a few hours, things can turn to shit. Walking into the meeting room, I slam the door behind me, making all the team who are patiently waiting for me to turn silent. I am furious. I wanted blood this morning, that I can’t deny, but I also wanted answers and they were not forthcoming.
Now we have five men who were part of the fold dead, and other families are going to start asking questions. Until I have the proof and answers I need, it is not going to look favorable for us.
“Carter,” I bark out to my brother from another mother, who, along with Sebastian, is one of my closest confidants. “Give us an overview.”
“We fucked up. They had trigger fingers. Five dead, including Stefano the Russo’s second in command.” His eyes flick to me, and I clench my jaw. I’m glad the fucker’s dead, but truth be told, I probably shouldn’t have killed him.
He continues. “Their paperwork has been audited. They have taken a one-million-dollar loan from us over six months ago for improvements for Allure, with the understanding that the building would be extended and renovated. They have given a six-month sales projection of over two million, with a full payback date of Sunday, the 12th, which was yesterday.”
Carter can kill a man with his bare hands, but he is smart as a whip too. Everything that comes out of his mouth is always 100% accurate. Where Sebastian and I are in our thirties, Carter is still in his mid-twenties, and although he is with us today, his gym business in Philly is growing and requiring him there more and more. I know that his move to Philly is near, especially since we could use an insider in that location anyway.
I survey the room, my eyes roaming over all our men. They are focused, determined and eager. Just the way I like them.
“So we have nothing new, then?” I grit out, unhappy that we didn’t manage to get our money back and created a war in the process. “Well, the heat is on us now, so we need to find the money and get proof that Dominic and Frederico are slimy bastards, who no longer deserve a seat at the table. Otherwise, the rest of the families will not be looking at us favorably. Let’s get to work.”
* * *
After spending the day looking through paperwork, video footage, and talking to our contacts, we are still no closer to finding what we need. Leaving ten new fresh-eyed men to go through it all again overnight, as well as a team monitoring Allure and any known associates of the Russo brothers, I bid farewell to Carter and head back to my place.
The lights are low as I enter, so I know Maria has retired to her room. I go upstairs to my private wing to check on Leo. Peeking in, I see Leo curled up asleep, gripping onto a new Lego Darth Vader that he made today. I slowly peel it from his hands and place it on his bedside table to join the many others, before lifting his blanket and kissing his head. Out of all the pain and trouble of the past decade, he is worth it all.
Turning off his lamp, I decide to check on Little Red as well. Putting my ear to the door, I can’t hear the TV or any other noise, so I slowly open the door and am surprised to see her sleeping. The curtains are still wide open, her small body hardly wrapped in my covers, wearing my shirt that I left for her. I walk into the room, stopping at the end of the bed, and I stand there watching her sleep. Looking at the small rise and fall of her chest, I take her in once again.
Her vibrant, long red hair is sprawled out around her head, like flames licking up my pillow. She’s on her side, cuddling my other pillow close, her legs bare, showing me her porcelain skin as it glows in the moonlight. Tiny puffs of air leave her pouty lips as she sleeps soundly.
I look around the room and notice the untouched tray of food that Maria must have bought up this morning, and it is then I come to the conclusion that Little Red has slept all day. Walking across the room quietly, I take a seat in my armchair and continue to watch her sleep. It’s been a long time since there was a woman in my bed, but for some odd reason, I am not upset by it.
The peacefulness of the house and this room is soothing after a challenging day, and I rest my head on the back of the armchair as my eyes stay on her. Her dainty toes and fingers are painted in light pink, her long black lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. My gaze lowers as I take in the dip and curves of her body that I can make out underneath my white shirt that encases her. I have never been more jealous of anything in my life as I am of that damn shirt.
Pondering this situation, I can’t take my eyes off her. I should have brought her to our safehouse. I should have taken her somewhere else, anywhere else, at least that way my mind wouldn’t be this distracted.
But who she is remains a mystery. Does she have a family looking for her? Parents, siblings, a boyfriend? If she does, then they should be scared that she is sleeping in my bed, because I am not a man that parents want their kids to end up with. I am not the dream; I am the nightmare, and Little Red has stepped right into my arms.
6
Annie
I wake up and stretch my legs out along the smooth cool comfort of the expensive sheets underneath me. Slowly opening my eyes, I look out the window and see the dim morning light starting to peek out. I become aware very quickly that I have slept for all of yesterday and all of last night. A new record for me. It takes a while for me to get my senses, but when I do, I bolt upright. My head flicks around the room, until they land on him.
I can barely breathe as I take him in. A soft glow paints the room in orange, draping over him like a light shield. He is almost majestic as he sits in the large armchair like a king on his throne, staring with intense dark eyes and a menacing scowl. Wearing dark jeans, black boots, and a tight black top with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his body stays taut, his shoulders stiff, his jaw clenched. I notice his tattoos again, both on his forearms and his neck, and I wonder what they are and if they mean anything. His leg is crossed over his knee, his hands grip onto the arms of the chair, and his eyes are firmly set on me.
I swallow as my breath quickens, my heart thumps in my chest, and my eyes bug out of my head. Not in fear, because for some reason, I cannot begin to understand, I am still not afraid, but I am not sure what to expect, and that makes me feel unsettled. I pull my legs up to my chest for protection and wrap my arms around them. Making myself small, shielding from what may come, I peek over the tops of my knees, waiting for him to talk first.
