40. Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Alessandrio
“ Y ou brought me makeup?” Olivia asks incredulously, eyeing me in the vanity’s mirror reflection.
“As much as I love knowing you just sucked my dick in the bathroom, then came on my fingers, I don’t want anyone else privy to our playtime.”
“Huh.” She looks thoughtful. “Makes sense when you do all that in the bathroom at a party,” she says with a roll of her eyes.
“Smart ass. Actually, Lucia was the one who pushed it into my hands when I followed you.”
“Oh great, even your sister-in-law knew you would have your way with me.”
I laugh loudly at that, and watch her grey eyes soften. “No. I think she thought you would need the makeup if you were crying.”
The softness flees for something of steel and fire. I had no plans to seek my revenge like this, but the pull toward her is something I am coming to terms with. Olivia’s interaction with Carla left me feeling… ashamed. Repercussions were always an afterthought for me when I moved through the social circles of the Mafia, burning bridges as I went. Having my past used as an ugly tool for some weird power play on Carla’s behalf left me feeling shame and what Olivia will face at my side. Deep, I am in too fucking deep. We have gone beyond the fake couple thing. It’s beginning to feel a lot more real now.
“What did Carla show you?” I ask, despite having a good idea of what was on her screen.
“You,” Olivia replies, powdering her nose and not looking at me. “As you were.”
Now that shame shifts toward awareness as I stare at my image over her shoulder. Sometimes I think I can see myself beneath all this unnaturalness. My brother was the beautiful one, but my presence only enhanced my looks. Women wanted him to have him, they wanted me more for the challenge. Seeing me as I was undoubtedly was a trip. Did she like what she saw? Does she wish I was human again? I want to ask her those questions, but when my gaze slides to her, she’s watching me as she applies lip gloss over her swollen lips. I did that—she did that, and she did it willingly. When we fuck, she never turns away. Even now I could get high off the feeling of her eyes on me. So I don’t ask, because I already know and instead I drop a kiss on her shoulder as she zips up the bag.
We leave the small powder room, her hand warm in my own. Before we enter the party, I give her one last appraising glance—I really don’t want anyone knowing our business. Perfection. There is no denying it, as she straightens up her shoulders and lifts that pretty head. I lead her through the door and back into the fray, observing the shift in the room as those closest give me a wide berth.
This time we work the room together. The way the men stare at her, I am glad I am with her. I grip her hip or hand, and feel the sweep of her thumb over my knuckles as if to soothe me when shit gets tense. It’s the young ones that make me feel the most violent, the way their eyes get hungry when they have an unguarded moment. When I catch them, their faces visibly pale, as if remembering who and what the fuck I am. Some of the older men outright look as if they have swallowed a fucking lemon, and the way they talk to her makes me want to shove one down their fucking throats at the condescension in their tones.
By the time we make it back to my family, I’m on a short tether and ready for a fight. I want to get Olivia out of here, away from these people. Emilio takes one look at my face and I know he won’t demand I stay any longer.
“You did well to keep it together,” Emilio murmurs.
“The ice is getting thin though,” I snarl quietly.
“No sign of him yet,” Lorenzo says, appearing at my brother’s shoulder.
“Sign of who?” I inquire as my brother’s face tightens.
“De Luca was invited and apparently RSVP’d,” my uncle says, scanning the room again—as if the Outfit boss will emerge in the crowd.
“Hopefully he was called back to Chicago and took his scum with him,” I spit, feeling relieved I didn’t come across any of the Outfit today. War might have actually broken out.
“I have a meeting with him tomorrow,” Emilio says. “Unlikely they would have returned yet.”
I catch Olivia’s eye as she listens. Her face is neutral, but I see her processing all that we say.
“Can we go home?” she asks my brother, and the way she says home makes me catch my breath.
Emilio nods, and I see the tension leech out of her as she lets go of my hand to hug Lucia goodbye and return her bag to her. Their interaction is friendly and I’m glad for Lucia’s nature, her gentleness and kindness. Olivia has at least found another ally in this viper’s nest.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Emilio says in my ear. “But you are in deep fucking shit.”
“I know.” And it’s that fucking simple because I am.
I tear my eyes away from Olivia to face him. We truly are a sight, things of total myth and legend. And yet it’s the spark of hope I see in his eyes that hits me like a Mack truck. Maybe the curse meant we both needed to find someone to love us for who we are, not just him. Fucking hell. I had never given much thought to it. Never even deigned to hope or wish the way he did. Miracles just don’t exist in my world, or at least they didn’t. And yet when my eyes find Olivia, I question all I have ever known. Apprehension is a bitter pill, however. We are meant to be temporary, her and I. I don’t want to see Emilio get his hopes up or be broken over this. Hell, I don’t want to be broken over this.
His eyes seek his wife and I want to reassure him, remind him she loves him, horns and all. Yet I don’t need to, because the look she gives him makes me look away. Lucia Greco is his, body and soul. When a small, warm hand slides against my own and tugs, I feel something abhorrent blossom in my chest. A small kernel of hope that I, too, might have a chance at that.
After our goodbyes, Olivia and I make our way back through the crowd. I don’t give anyone the time of day as I draw her out into the early fall evening. In silence, we make our way to my car, and that same silence persists on our drive home. There are too many things in my head that for once I fear what I will say.
If I told her the stipulations of the curse, what then? Would it change things between us? Probably. She might assume that I expect her to love me. Or even worse, assume I am falling for her and realize she won. I promised to ruin her. Love was never a part of our equation and certainly not something I could or would hope for. A hand settles on my thigh, as if she feels the tension radiating off me as I strangle the steering wheel. Her hand soothes something inside of me, muting the chaos in my head as we make our way through the city.
“What kind of music do you like?” I ask moments later, opening her car door.
Her eyes flare wide in surprise and I see her biting down on her lip, undoubtedly avoiding some sassy response. She waits until we are at the elevator to reply,watching me with a small smile on her sensuous lips.
“Is it lame if I say classical?”
“Oh thank God.” I grab the rail as we step into the elevator in mock relief. “I thought you were going to say pop music. My apartment is a pop-free zone.”
“So dramatic,” she replies, rolling her eyes.
The doors open and I take her hand, leading her into the dimly lit hall. I had so many plans for this very moment, eager to get her alone again, but something halts my paws. Not right. My nostrils flare as a scent hits my nose, the fur on the back of my neck rising in response. The shadows and gloom fill my living room at the other end of the hall. I whirl and press Olivia into the wall, my hand flying up to cover her mouth, and I watch those grey eyes flare in a terrible sort of surprise.
“Someone is here,” I whisper, moving my face into her neck.
Pulling back, I stare into those eyes, seeing dread on her features. She begins to shake, her fear taking over, and my eyes bore into hers. “Stay here,” I whisper, but her hands grasp for my arm, her head shaking— no .
“Let’s leave,” she whispers back, and even in the low light I see her face has leeched of color.
“Stay here,” I command, low.
With effort, I pry myself from her, needing to assess the threat. Staying close to the wall, I slowly make my way to the end of the hall. A quick glance over my shoulder tells me she has listened— good. The closer I get to the end of the hall, the more my eyes scan the wall of glass for anything reflected on its surface. At the corner I peer carefully around, eyes scanning the empty living room and low lit kitchen. Adrenaline spikes my blood at the sight of a bottle of my scotch on the white marble counter, the lid left off. One quick check back and my chest tightens, Olivia is crouching where I left her, hands pressed to her lips. I press a long finger to my own, a reminder to keep quiet before launching myself across to my couch, I drop low and shove my hand under the pillows.
My fingers brush cold metal, and relief fills me as I pull the small handgun out. Undoing the safety, I take a moment and breathe in the unusual scent in the air. The one that had my fur raising as I stepped into my apartment, a smell that doesn’t belong here. It’s a mix of heavy cologne and something else. Not for the first time, I thank that fucking Strega for my enhanced senses. It could have been bad. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts and Olivia that I might have walked us right into something. Again my eyes slide back down the hall, to the figure still crouched there. Something cold trails down my spine, and I am moving before I can let myself think too hard on it as fear settles in my veins. Not for me, but for her .
I pull my phone out and flick it to silent before typing a message.
Me: Send men, someone is in my apartment.
My message is instantly read and I breathe a little easier, knowing my brother can get our hotel’s security detail here in less than a heartbeat. Standing, I begin a sweep of the gym and hear the elevator in the main entrance hall ding. I rush to the door and check the peephole before opening it for the three armed Greco men standing in the hall outside.
“The gym is empty,” I begin, but pause as the sound of clacking heels emerges down the hall.
I move fast and catch her as she careens around the corner. Her eyes are full of something feral as she stares up at my face.
“Stop,” she gasps, gripping me.
“Greco men,” I hiss, and feel her body relax slightly. “Go back to the service elevator, go down to the garage, and wait for me there.” Against my better judgement, I thrust the key card into her hands, but she shakes her head.
“No.” There is so much finality in her words that I want to shake her.
I gesture to my men, pointing at my eyes, and then down the hall to the bedrooms. They nod in unison, raising their weapons to begin their search.
“Olivia,” I grit out. “Go. Down. Stairs.”
“I am not leaving you,” she snarls back and out of reflex I grip her throat.
Her hands reach up to my forearm as I press her back into the wall. “Fine, but stay here.”
She nods vigorously, hair coating my arm. What a stupidly fearless woman she is. I want to throttle her, drag her out of here, but right now I need to clear my apartment and find out what the fuck is going—I’ve already wasted too much time. Turning on my paws, I rush down the hall, lifting my gun. Our men emerge from my bedroom, and hers, shaking their heads. I raise my gun to the last unopened door. A room I know well, a room Olivia knows well. All pretense of quiet is lost as we move down the hall. They know we are here. Keeping as close to the wall as possible, I use my stronger hearing to listen. Silence, pure and utter silence, is beyond this door and yet the smell of something familiar is strongest at this end. I hold out my hand and count down to my men on my fingers.
Three, two, one…
My paw hits the door and wood shatters as it flies inward without its hinges. The smell that hits me is one I know intimately. I have acquainted myself with it time and time again. Blood. A lot of fucking blood. The sight that greets me is also familiar yet not—someone is sitting in the chair, a bloodied sheet casually tossed over them. We spill into the room, one man moving to clear the ensuite across from us and as he flicks the light on in the bathroom, it illuminates words written in black ink across the front of the bloodied sheet.
Surprise.
I fucking hate surprises. In two determined moves, I step forward and rip the sheet from the figure in the chair I once tied Olivia to.
“Fuck,” I snarl, my men’s curses rising in unison to complement my own.
The face is a fucking mess. I step closer, trying to make sense of what—who—I am looking at. Someone has carved away the cheeks, revealing broken white nubs of teeth. The skin on the forehead has been peeled back, revealing the bloody, white skull beneath. That same someone attempted to scalp the poor bastard. However, the hair gives me pause and my eyes skid down over the chaos, to the expensive suit, the Rolex watch and the bloody tips of nailless fingers. Wrenching my phone out, I call my brother.
“Alessandrio?” he snarls down the line.
“I found De Luca,” I say, crouching to look closer at his hands.
“In your apartment?” He sounds confused.
“Yep, and he is very, very dead.”
There is a moment’s pause and a sharp curse.
“I believe we are being set up, dear brother,” I say as my phone beeps with another incoming call.
I look at the screen and see a name that makes my blood run cold. Coincidence? Nothing is a coincidence. At least I know now how they got in. I hit answer, ending Emilio’s call.
“Monique,” I spit.
“The Hanged Man and your brother-in-law send their regards,” Monique replies sweetly.
“Are they with you?” I ask, a bite in my tone.
“We aren’t quite brothers-in-law yet, are we, though?” a male voice replies.
“Riccardo,” I seethe.
“Do you really think we will be in-laws? I have a feeling her time is limited.” His icy drawl has my stomach twisting.
I am moving without thought, registering nothing as I walk back down the hall, feeling nothing until my eyes land on Olivia. A small cry rents the air as she runs to me, and something in my chest cracks.
“I will kill you,” I say down the phone and Olivia’s steps falter. “She is mine.” Her grey eyes widen.
“Is she though?” His voice is poison spilling through my veins as the line dies.
“Riccardo?” Her voice cracks over his name.
I can only nod in response and see her eyes glance over my shoulder, trailing down the hall. I put my gun in my belt, just in case. Even if I didn’t have confirmation that this was Riccardo’s doing, I would have known. All the terror he inflicted on De Luca is his calling card. It’s how he left our father, what he did to Lucia. This is not fucking good. I have a dead Outfit boss in my apartment. How the fuck are we going to explain this?
“Come.” I take her hand and lead her back to the elevator.
“What happened?” She asks, tugging on my arm.
“Leonardo De Luca is dead.”
“What?” she gasps.
I turn to face her as I press the button to the service elevator. Confusion and fear war on her face as she tries to make sense of what I just told her.
“Your brother and Galdano have taken the game up a notch. I now have a dead Outfit boss in my back room.” Her hand flies to her throat, face becoming impossibly pale. The elevator arrives, and she doesn’t resist as I pull her in. “My apartment is now compromised.” And I cannot risk you being here .
She steps into me, and my arms wrap around her frame as her forehead finds my chest. When we reach the basement, the door to the garage is opening and for a second my breath catches as I shove her behind me, removing my gun and pointing it at the SUV coming down the ramp. Olivia’s fingers tighten on my waist, but they relax their grip as Lorenzo jumps out of the passenger seat. Another SUV careens down the ramp, tires screeching and doors opening as our men spill out. Emilio rounds the vehicle, his eyes on us as we meet him and Lorenzo halfway.
“He’s upstairs. Some of our boys are up there now, assessing the situation. Head up and help them,” I order our men and they nod in unison, stepping into the now empty elevator.
“Take Olivia to my house,” Emilio says as I face him and my uncle. “Lucia is having rooms readied for you both.”
My relief is swift, and I nod gratefully. “I’ll be back after,” I tell them and lead Olivia over to my van.