38
Liv
I rub the sleep from my eyes, and my body screams at me for moving.
I feel every bit of last night’s thorough punishment from a certain mafia boss who apparently thinks I’m made of steel.
Stretching seems like a good idea, until it’s not.
A sharp sting shoots through my ass, and I let out a groan that sounds more like a dying walrus.
Right now, I’d kill for a hot bath, a massive breakfast, and a movie marathon where nobody interrupts me or tries to own me like last night.
Well, maybe a little bit of last night.
Rolling over, I reach for him out of habit, only to find the sheets empty and cold.
Alessio is gone.
That shouldn’t bother me, and I hate that I feel a pang of disappointment.
With a sigh, I push myself up, wincing as my legs remind me of exactly what happened last night.
I put on a simple wrap dress and braid my hair to look half decent.
Every step down the hallway is a whole-ass journey, my body practically yelling, “ Why are we doing this? Go back to bed. ” But no, I trudge down the stairs, moving like a sore, half-dead zombie just trying to survive the morning.
As I make my way into the kitchen, I freeze.
Kota and Paola are in the dining room, and something is off .
Kota’s standing there, arms crossed, looking too serious for the human teddy bear I’ve gotten used to.
And Paola’s face is streaked with tears.
Not just a few delicate ones, but like full-on ugly cry status.
“What’s going on?” My voice sounds rough, like I just woke up, which I did, but the growing pit in my stomach says, “ Wake up faster. ”
Kota’s eyes meet mine.
There’s no warmth, no teasing, just cold professionalism.
It’s like someone flipped a switch and activated Serious Business Kota.
“Don Alessio wants to see you in his office,” he says.
His tone is so clipped that it sounds like this is some customer service call being recorded for quality assurance.
Don Alessio?
We’re using titles now.
That’s not a good sign.
My eyes go back to Paola.
“Paola, are you okay? ”
She opens her mouth to answer, but Kota gently rubs her shoulder.
“She’ll be fine,” he says, and that should be comforting, but it’s not .
Not when Paola’s wiping at her face like she just got hit with world-ending news.
I want to push further, but something in his eyes screams, “ Not the time. ”
Paola pulls away from him, wiping at her face, mumbling something I can’t catch as she walks toward the kitchen.
Kota jerks his head toward the hallway.
“Go on.”
My stomach twists.
Whatever’s going down…
it can’t be good.
I’m outside his office, and every part of me knows I should knock.
Be a good girl and follow the rules, especially when something is clearly off.
My hand hesitates mid-air, because every cell in my body is screaming, turn around .
But I don’t.
I knock, my fingers tapping against the wood like it might buy me more time.
“Come in,” the Warden rasps from the other side.
My stomach tightens.
I’m not panicking.
I push the door open and step inside, but my nerves are bouncing around my stomach like ping-pong balls.
Alessio is leaning against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, looking more pissed off than I’ve seen him.
In front of him sit grizzly Zeno and the hulk Nathan, both look at me, then back to Alessio.
And without a single word spoken, they stand and brush past me like the room’s on fire and they need out .
What the actual hell is going on?
“You called me, Warden?” I ask, aiming for casual but probably landing somewhere between sassy and please don’t kill me .
Alessio’s eyes meet mine, something unreadable swimming in those icy blues.
He doesn’t answer immediately; he walks behind his desk, sits down, and gestures.
“Sit,” he orders.
My body moves before my brain catches up, dropping into the seat Zeno just left.
I wince a little, my ass is still sore, but the seat’s warm, which is weirdly comforting.
Then.
.
.
silence.
We stare at each other.
And stare.
And stare.
It’s like we’re in some weird showdown, and I refuse to be the first to blink.
Finally, I blurt, “Did you call me in here to stare at me?”
His hand drags down his face like I’m the exhausting one here.
“No,” he says, waving a hand between us.
“Whatever this was... well, it’s done. I played my part, but I don’t want you in my house.”
I blink.
“Wait, what?”
“Pack your things,” he adds.
His voice is so cold that it makes my skin prickle.
“Nathan will take you wherever you need to go.”
My brain short-circuits.
“W-what?” The words stutter out, sounding messy and confused because that’s how I feel.
“You want me to leave? Just like that?”
“Yes.” He reaches into a drawer, pulls out an envelope, and slides it across the desk like he’s finalizing a business transaction, not the person who rode him like a show pony last night.
“This should get you as far away from me as possible.” His fingers tap it before pulling back like he can’t stand to touch it any longer.
I stare at the bulky envelope.
Then at him.
Audacity doesn’t even cover it.
His face is stone-cold.
No trace of the man who couldn’t keep his hands off me last night.
That person is gone, replaced by this cold, distant stranger.
And my heart feels like it just caved in.
“Is this because I snuck out last night?” My voice cracks mid-sentence, but I don’t care.
“Seriously? You’re doing all this over something that stupid? ”
His chair scrapes against the floor as he suddenly stands.
My pulse jumps as he rounds the desk, and then he’s right there .
His arms are planted on either arm of my chair, trapping me in.
Shit.
He’s close enough that I can feel his breath on my face, and it’s surprisingly warm for how ice-cold he’s being.
“It has nothing to do with that,” he growls.
“And everything to do with who the fuck you are. I kept you safe from Antonio, but now, I want you out of my fucking life.”
Clover always said to read the room.
Well, message received loud and clear.
Painfully clear.
I feel stupid.
Stupid for thinking this was more.
For believing, even for a second, that maybe he cared.
God, how did I let myself fall for this.
.
.
for him?
Tears prick at my eyes, burning, but I swallow them down.
No way in hell am I crying in front of this ass-wad.
He doesn’t deserve my tears.
Alessio pushes back, his arms dropping as he steps away.
He walks behind his desk but doesn’t sit; he stands there like a statue, looking at me.
I push to my feet, my chair scraping loudly, and just when my back turns to him, he speaks.
“Take the money. ”
“Yeah, no thanks,” I snap, but my hand snatches the envelope anyway, just to hurl it at his face .
Bills explode across his desk like it’s a stripper stage, but swap the singles for hundreds.
“I’m not some whore you can pay off when you’re done using,” I bite out.
My voice is shaking with anger and heartbreak.
I hate that it hurts this much.
I don’t stay to see his reaction.
I turn and storm out, slamming the door so hard that the walls rattle.
Upstairs feels like a blur.
I stop in the middle of my room, his room, and realize nothing’s mine.
I came here with nothing.
I’m leaving with nothing, except my phone.
I’ll need it for now, at least.
Pulling the dress off, I swap it for jeans, wincing when the fabric pulls at my still-sore ass.
Screw him.
I tug on a plain white t-shirt, an oversized hoodie on top, and lace up my sneakers.
I slide my phone into my pants.
Just in case he tries to take that too.
I’ve got mobile banking and plenty of money saved from working at Elli’s.
I’ll figure it out, I always do.
Taking a breath that doesn’t help, I grab what little dignity I have left and head back downstairs.
When I reach the bottom step, I notice Alessio by the door with Nathan and Zeno.
He’s staring at me, burning holes through my face.
I keep my eyes anywhere but on him.
If I look at him, I’ll break.
And he doesn’t get to see me crumble.
“Go get her things,” Alessio barks.
“No need,” I say as calmly as I possibly can.
“I don’t have anything to take . ”
Nathan clears his throat.
“You ready?” He sounds nicer than he should be, but there’s fear laced in his tone.
“I can manage on my own.”
When my hand lands on the doorknob, my eyes drop to the diamond sparkling on my finger.
That stupid, shiny lie I let myself start to believe.
Of course, I did.
God, I’m such an idiot for thinking someone like me could have something that didn’t come with terms and conditions.
I’m not sure what changed, but I know better than to stay where I’m not wanted.
A bitter laugh slips out before I can stop it.
It’s the kind that scrapes your throat raw on the way up.
I twist the ring off slowly, each turn peeling back another layer of whatever pride I had left.
My fingers feel bare and empty now.
How fucked up is that?
I turn back to the trio with my chin held high, even though my chest feels like it’s caving in, and toss the ring at Alessio.
Of course , he catches it with one hand, like we’ve practiced this move a thousand times.
“This doesn’t belong to me either.”