7
Alessio
Her green eyes lock onto mine, wide and intense.
Her red hair’s a mess, and not in the deliberate, styled way.
It’s wilder, curling at the edges, and frizzing from the summer humidity like it’s got a mind of its own.
It frames her face, making her look untamed and uncontrolled.
For some reason, that amuses the hell out of me.
Seeing her vulnerable, exposed, and completely at my mercy makes me smirk.
What can I say?
The Sirena piques my interest.
“You’ve got some explaining to do, little stalker,” I say sharply.
“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” she spits back.
I let out a low chuckle, tilting my head as I take her in.
All attitude, all fight, even when she knows she’s lost.
Something about it makes me almost forget she just ran from me.
Almost .
I close in on her as she scrambles backward, but Kota’s got a tight grip on her with one arm around her waist and his other around her shoulders.
Yanking her back into the elevator.
Nowhere to run, Sirena.
When we get to the 2th floor, he pulls her into a small office and forces her into a chair.
Before she can even think about bolting, he grabs an old phone cord from the desk and secures her wrists to the armrests.
The room is tight, barely enough space for the desk, and it feels more like a prison cell than an office.
I give her a pointed look, watching for any reaction.
Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t take the bait.
“Let’s start with introductions,” I say, leaning in just enough to make her uncomfortable.
“I’m Al—” I stop myself, smirking.
“Well, I’m pretty sure you already know who I am.”
“And you are Olivia,” I continue, going off the intel Seb handed me.
“But you go by Liv.”
I lean against the desk, arms crossed, watching her.
But she avoids my gaze, her lips pressed into a thin, stubborn line.
I hate that.
Kota steps back until he reaches the door, slamming it shut behind him.
Now it’s just me and my little stalker .
“Why are you looking into me?” I ask, but she doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t blink.
Nothing.
I exhale through my nose.
“Who are you here for?”
Still nothing.
Wrong fucking move.
“Talk,” I snap, slamming my fists on the desk.
She flinches, but her eyes stay down.
“No, asshole,” she says smoothly, her voice is too casual like for someone tied to a chair.
Like she isn’t pissing me off more and more by the second.
Her fingers twitch against the armrest they’re bound to, the only tell that she’s feeling something other than stupidly confident.
I close the space between us in one step, gripping her chin, forcing her to look at me.
“No, asshole?” I mock, smirking at the spitfire in front of me.
She glares, her breath coming just a little faster now.
She’s got fire, but nobody says no to me.
She tries to jerk away, but I don’t let her.
My grip holds firm, keeping her in place.
Olivia rolls her eyes like she’s bored, like this doesn’t faze her, but she still won’t look at me.
She won’t give me the satisfaction of seeing her break .
Stubborn little thing.
I lean in, bracing my hands on either side of the chair, my face inches from hers.
“I ask the questions, and you answer,” I murmur, dangerously low.
“Got it, stalker?” I pause just long enough to watch her reaction, then smirk.
“And I prefer Alessio, not asshole.”
Olivia exhales harshly, almost defiant, like she’s about to spit something back, but before she gets the chance, there’s a knock at the door.
Kota steps into the room, shutting the door behind him.
“Sorry to interrupt, Boss, but I just got an update,” he says, his eyes darting between me and Olivia.
I let go of the chair and stand, turning away from her like she isn’t even there.
I follow Kota into the hallway, leaving her tied to the chair.
“What is it?” I snap.
“Zeno heard the prisoner mumbling in his sleep,” Kota says.
Zeno’s one of my most trusted men, posted outside Chris’s cell.
“Kept repeating that he ‘did what he was told.’ When Zeno woke him up, he clammed up, refusing to give up any names.”
Either the bastard botched the drop, or someone out there thinks Demoni is moving underage girls.
Zeno should’ve just let the fucker sleep.
At this rate, we only get anything useful from him when he’s unconscious .
My teeth grind together so hard I feel it in my fucking skull.
A slow burn starts in my chest, heating my skin and tightening my fists.
If someone’s spreading that kind of bullshit about my casino, they won’t be breathing much longer.
“If it’s the latter,” I mutter more to myself “they’re gonna wish they never fucking thought it.” I drag a hand over my face, trying to force down the heat crawling up my spine.
I don’t have time for rage.
Not yet.
I need answers.
Names.
I take a slow breath, steadying the fire building under my ribs.
Handle it first.
Burn the place down later.
“Keep digging,” I say, clenching my fists.
“I want every single name he came into contact with, from the second his foot hit the parking lot to the moment we dragged him to the basement. No loose ends. Got it?”
Kota barely gets a word out before the office door slams open with a loud crack, smacking into his back.
He stumbles forward with a curse, and before I can register what the hell just happened, a blur of red flashes past him.
Olivia.
She bolts for the stairs.
Fuck.
I burst through the rooftop door at full speed, shoving it open so hard it nearly bounces off the wall.
Olivia is already at the fire escape.
My pulse is pounding, the sound of her footsteps slamming against concrete.
She’s quick, but I’m faster.
My hand shoots out, grabbing a fistful of her curls.
She stumbles back, her body colliding against mine, and a sharp gasp escapes her lips.
My grip is tight and rough, I don’t give a shit if it hurts.
“Running again? Haven’t you learned by now that you can’t run from me?” I growl, my grip tightening in her hair.
My other hand wraps around her throat, my fingers pressing into her skin, harder than I probably should.
But I don’t ease up, I want her to feel it.
Her breath catches, her chest rises against my arm, and for half a second, a thought riles in my brain, how perfectly my hand fits here.
But I shove that shit aside and turn her around to face me.
Her eyes, those sharp green eyes, are full of fire and challenge.
Even now, with my grip on her throat, backing her against the ledge, she doesn’t back down.
Something about her stubbornness has me caught between frustration and wanting to fuck her into submission.
But I need her to feel my wrath, to understand the danger of pissing me off.
I stomp forward, dragging her backward, each step bringing us closer to the edge.
Her heels scrape against the concrete pavers until we’re at the brink.
She has no choice but to move with me.
Olivia’s legs teeter dangerously over the drop, as the wind whips her red locks across her face.
If she were a man, I wouldn’t bother with this scare-tactic bullshit, I’d just beat the answers out of her.
But then she says, “Are you really just going to throw a woman to her death?”
Those words hit harder than they should.
An old memory slams into me, one I never let myself think about.
My grip tightens, not because I want to hurt her, but because I need to ground myself.
And that half-second hesitation is all she needs.
A sudden, sharp, blinding pain explodes between my legs.
Fuck .
Every single fucking ounce of air is knocked out of me.
My stomach twists, a white-hot agony spreading through my gut, my grip on her going weak as my knees threaten to buckle.
She slips away, and I lunge forward, trying to grab her and not throw up.
But she’s already gone, sprinting toward the emergency exit, hauling ass like the devil himself is on her heels.
I double over, gasping, my hands clutching my balls like that’s going to do a damn thing to stop the pain.
My head pounds, and I’m fighting to breathe through the pain.
Just then, the door bursts open.
Kota and Nathan run onto the roof, looking around, clearly confused, as if they expect Olivia to reappear out of nowhere and surrender herself.
I grit my teeth, trying not to lose my shit.
Where the fuck were they two minutes ago?
Maybe then I wouldn’t be dying up here, questioning every choice that led to this moment that almost ended any chance I had of ever having kids.
My head pounds, but the ache between my legs is far worse.
Alonzo appears and heads for the emergency exit, ready to chase her down.
I raise a shaky hand to stop him, the wind still knocked out of me.
Speaking is a fucking effort.
“Hold on,” I manage to grunt, wincing at how much it hurts to fucking breathe.
Alonzo hesitates, glancing between Kota and Nathan before looking back at me.
He’s shifting uncomfortably like he’s trying to figure out what the hell just happened because this isn’t how I handle shit.
Especially not with someone who’s barely 5’4.
I suck in a breath, still bent over, with my vision swimming.
Right now, I need ice, space, and a second to rethink how the hell I’m going to deal with that spitfire, because chasing after her is pointless when I can barely fucking stand.
Emerald green eyes flash in my mind as hot water pours over me, trying to wash away the mess of this entire trip.
It’s impossible, and the heat does little for my sore muscles.
I glance down, relieved that my dick isn’t broken.
The hard-on I woke up with, and can’t seem to get rid of, is proof it still works.
My hand slides up my length, fingers wrapping tight as I squeeze the tip, trying to take off enough pressure to breathe.
It doesn’t help, and she’s still there.
Red hair.
Green eyes.
A mouth that could start wars.
My breath picks up, my chest rising and falling like I’ve just gone ten rounds in a fight.
My grip tightens.
I start to stroke harder and faster as her face, her voice, and those smart-ass remarks she throws at me burn through my brain.
And her mouth—God, that fucking mouth.
Probably soft, warm, and sinful as hell.
Made to ruin men without even trying.
I can almost feel her lips around my cock, the way her eyes would flick up at me, full of that fucking sass, daring me to lose control.
She’d push me, just to see what I’d do about it.
It’s too much and not enough, all at the same time.
A guttural growl rips through my throat as my fist slams against the cold tile.
My head tilts back, muscles locking tight as pleasure crashes through me.
“Fuck.”
My release hits hard, spilling onto the shower floor before the water washes it away.
I stay there, breathing hard, with my forehead pressing against my arm, and hot water running down my back.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Trying to force her out, but it’s useless.
Olivia’s still fucking there.
After my shower, I towel off and slide into a crisp black button-down and matching slacks.
I have business to catch up on, then I’m heading out to meet Antonio.
He’s got a lead on someone who’s been ripping him off and wants my help to sort it out.
Honestly, there’s nothing I’d love more right now than to beat the hell out of a few idiots and show them why you don’t fuck with people like us.
Maybe I’ll start by ripping their fingernails off, just to hear them scream.
After that, I’ll work my way up, joint by joint.
You can’t have sticky fingers when you don’t have any fucking fingers at all .
Meanwhile, Alonzo and Nathan have been tracking Olivia since yesterday, swapping shifts with two of Antonio’s guys to keep constant eyes on her.
If anything changes, I’ll know.
But for now, letting her think she’s gotten away is part of the plan.
I want her to feel safe.
To think she’s slipped through the cracks.
Then, when the time’s right, I’ll remind her exactly who she’s dealing with.
It’s later in the evening, and I finally drag myself out of my room and head to Antonio’s office.
He wanted to talk, but I’ve spent most of the day buried in work.
His place is a fucking maze, with hallways leading to nowhere and staircases winding in every direction.
I bolt down one flight of stairs, only to hit a dead end and have to backtrack, only to climb another.
By the time I hit the second set, I let out a low curse.
How the hell does anyone find their way around this damn house?
When I finally reach Antonio’s office, the door is wide open.
Inside, Aldo, his second, stands beside Antonio, who’s seated behind his desk.
For an older guy, Aldo is built like a tank—solid and burly, just like my old man, Alessandro Sr.
He doesn’t say much, but his eyes are always on the move, scanning the room like a hawk.
Quiet and watchful, the kind of guy you want on your side.
I expect to see Sebastiano, considering how much Antonio’s been stepping back lately.
Everything runs through Seb now.
But the chair beside Antonio’s desk is empty.
Antonio notices my hesitation.
He sees me looking around, and before I can ask, he clears his throat and gets straight to it.
“Sebastiano’s tied up with a problem. Three dock workers went missing today. Fishermen found them floating in the river, tied to crates of stolen guns. It’s a real shitshow.”
I raise an eyebrow.
That escalated quickly.
“So, Seb’s the one handling it?”
Antonio nods, his face set in grim lines.
“Yeah, he’s on it. But we need to lay low for a while. Can’t risk moving weapons until things cool off.”
I nod, taking it in.
The timing isn’t great, considering Gio, the Don, is running most of Detroit, and I just kicked off a new venture.
Spuntino’s .
A food delivery service, at least, that’s what it looks like on paper.
In reality, we’re using trucks to move our gun shipments out of Chicago and into our territories.
Antonio catches the shift in my expression and gives me a pointed look.
“So, you’ve got a front now?”
A slow smirk pulls at my lips.
“Exactly. Why not use a legal business to support our other interests?”
Antonio leans back, arms crossing over his chest, and for the first time tonight, his expression shifts into something satisfied.
“Smart move,” he says with a nod.
“Keeps us under the radar while we keep the wheels turning.”
“Glad you think so.” I push off the desk, ready to wrap things up.
“I’ll keep my head down until this blows over. Once the heat dies down, we’ll get everything back on track.” Just as I turn to leave, Antonio’s phone rings, stopping me in my tracks.
The second I hear Seb’s voice booming through the receiver, the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
“Mia’s gone.”