Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Tommy
If I watch her any longer, I might drool. I didn’t think I had a type, but apparently I do. I shouldn’t lust after my future aunt.
You’re a sick fuck.
But she’s gorgeous, and she’s got spunk. That’s what my nonna would have called it. Uncle Mano’s going to despise it and do everything he can to eliminate it. If she’s smart, she’ll hide it from now until eternity. Doing that will wither her away into a shell of the woman she is today.
Oh, I’m pissed as fuck right now. But the—situation—wasn’t entirely of her own making.
There’s a good chance they would’ve let her go if I wasn’t there.
They would’ve spewed some crude shit and made her uncomfortable, but she and her friends would’ve left unscathed.
Me being there amplified everything. On the other hand, if they hadn’t let her go…
And that’s why I’m pissed. There was always the possibility they would’ve assaulted her and dumped her somewhere. At best, kidnapped and ransomed. She should’ve had at least one guard outside the pub who could’ve come in the moment she hit her tracker.
“She’s infuriating.”
I nod as Edoardo stops beside me. He watches his sister while I stand with my back to her.
If I keep watching her, everyone will know I want to fuck her.
As is, thank God, it’s dark. Her cool hands were gentle despite the pain—or maybe because she knew the pain—while she stitched me up.
She was efficient and did a better job than surgeons who’ve worked on me before.
Maybe she could stitch Uncle Mano’s mouth shut while he sleeps.
“Tommaso, she tests my patience, but I love my sister. She’s not prone to such poor decisions. I don’t know what possessed her to come here. Probably a friend suggested it, and she didn’t want to explain why it was a bad idea.”
“I’m pretty fucking certain they know why now.”
My quip gains me a frown, but I don’t care.
My leg’s killing me, and I should be sitting.
But there isn’t a chance in hell I’m letting any Rizzo think I can’t handle tonight.
There’s no doubt they all know this was a hell of a lot more than a little nick.
Not from how long it took Stella to sew me up.
But I won’t let any of them think I’m weak.
It reflects on my family. I know Gio lets them believe we need their help because we can’t block the Mancinellis from spreading along the East Coast. We’re doing just fine.
Uncle Mano wants Stella’s dowry, which comes in at about one-and-a-half million dollars.
Most of it’s dirty. Ill-gotten and probably not laundered well.
We’ll take care of that. We don’t need the money, but Uncle Mano wasn’t going to turn down the chance for it and a hot young wife.
In return, the Rizzos believe we’ll let them have everything west of the Appalachians.
They believe us ceding that territory is proof we need their muscle.
They have not a fucking clue what’s really going on.
That’s why I have to play nice with Edoardo right now when I want to demand why it took so fucking long for him or any of his men to get here. Why Stella even imagined for a moment she could come to a place like this. Too fucking bad if her friends wanted to come here.
“Are you good to take her home?”
I want off my feet and into my hotel bed.
I have a guest pass to the best BDSM club in town.
I’d planned to drop Stella off, then enjoy myself.
Maybe even exorcise my lust for her. Unfortunately, I’m definitely not going to be doing any rough fucking since I feel like I left half the blood in my body in that fucking shithole. Even worse, I don’t want another woman.
I’m more self-reflective than most men in my family.
It’s a fucking pain in the ass now. The entire time Stella worked on my leg, I forced myself to think about anything else.
I refused to show a moment’s pain in front of them.
It was machismo to the extreme. In front of the Rizzos, I would show them how a real man man’s up.
So stupid, but so necessary. In front of Stella, I wanted to show her I can handle anything.
I didn’t want to make her feel worse, and I didn’t want to worry her.
So, I considered why I’m attracted to her.
It’s more than physical lust. That’s a healthy portion, but not all of it.
She’s brave, assertive, loyal, strong, unflappable, intelligent.
My list’s longer than that, but those are the qualities that come to mind the quickest. I don’t know another woman like her.
It might tempt me to compare her to my mother because she’s all those things, too. But that woman’s got ice in her heart that spreads through her veins. I’m not on the receiving end of it, and she’s been a wonderful mom to me. However, I’ve seen how she is with everyone else.
Stella isn’t like that. She wouldn’t be a nurse if she was. She’s compassionate, which is a hard quality to find in anyone who’s grown up in the Mafia. It draws me like a bee to pollen. How I want to taste her sweet honey.
For tonight, I settle with watching her get into her brother’s car.
She observes me as a town car from the service I hired—not a fucking chance in hell I’m trusting the Rizzos to decide where I go—pulls up.
Just before she closes the front passenger door once she’s inside Edoardo’s Range Rover, she shoots me a tight smile and dips her chin.
Then it’s too dark to see her because the dome light wasn’t on.
No syndicate member or their family wants an interior vehicle light announcing their arrival or departure.
I slip into the back seat and close my eyes as my driver takes me to my hotel.
As much as I’d love an oversized shot of Irish whiskey—fucking irony—I won’t mix that with the narcotic painkillers I have in my suite.
The prescription is legit, even if my cousin wrote it.
I shower as best I can without getting the incision wet while cleaning the surrounding area.
I wrap it with bandages, prop my thigh up, and pass out. I’ll live to fight another day.
* * *
I’m at Stella’s house—picture perfect with the “for sale” sign in the yard and blooming bougainvillea bushes—to oversee the movers. She’s fuming as she stands on the porch, arms crossed, toes tapping. I don’t want to be here any more than she wants me to be, which is not at all.
“This is the task Uncle Mano gave me. I know you’re pissed he’s decided what you can and can’t send to Boston. I’m turning a blind eye to a lot of things, Stella. But he’ll inspect the truck himself if he thinks I let too much slide.”
“You don’t trust me.”
When I step forward, it forces her to take a step back.
She keeps going as I tower over her. She shows no fear, which is a foolish reaction.
She doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know what I’m capable of.
After last night, she’s assuming I won’t hurt her since I protected her.
She’s not family yet. If I have to choose between my blood and the Rizzos, she’ll learn blood is thicker than water.
But I don’t have to be a total ass to her.
“Anything you want that you can’t send in the truck, ship to a storage unit somewhere outside the city.
Rent it under an assumed name. I’m certain you have a couple in case you need to run.
Use your father’s or brother’s VPN and one of the credit cards in your go bag.
Send your stuff, pick up the key, and get a safe deposit box under a different name at a bank on the other side of the city.
Keep the key there. You’ll have what you want if you ever need it.
Or, at least, you’ll know it’s within reach. ”
She stares at me for a long time before her arms uncross.
She peers around me as the movers carry an antique curio to the truck.
It tempts me to suggest it’s a piece she should probably hide.
I saw the inside of her place. She’s not someone who goes antiquing, so that piece likely has sentimental value.
Uncle Mano will destroy it one of these days to punish her.
I hear the men walking up the ramp to the truck that’s way too big for the few things she can take.
I didn’t arrange it. My brother, Francesco—Frank—did, but under Uncle Mano’s orders.
I’m certain the old bastard told Frank to rent the biggest truck available just so Stella would see how empty it is.
A reminder that she has nothing now unless Uncle Mano gives it to her.
She’s a tiny pea rattling around in a giant can.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, so I slip it out far enough to see the ID. Motherfucker. The man has a sixth sense.
“Caio, zio.” Hello, Uncle.
“Caio. How’s it going?”
“Lento. I traslocatori devono lavorare per un sindacato.” Slow. The movers must be in a union.
I don’t want to speak in English, then have to switch to Italian if my uncle wants to discuss something Stella can’t hear.
He hasn’t asked who’s around, so for all he knows, I could be standing with Gio or Edoardo.
Neither of them speaks Italian, but it wouldn’t shock them if I did.
It might annoy them, but it’s their fault for being Mafia and not understanding our language.
We won’t even get into their complete lack of Sicilian.
More than just not wanting to switch, I want to observe Stella.
I want to know if she knows more Italian than the rest of her family.
I suspect she does. The few words she said last night sounded like a native.
“How much longer will it take?”
“A questo ritmo, due ore.” At this pace, two hours.
It should take twenty minutes.
“Will her house be empty?”
“Soprattutto.” Mostly.
He huffs with annoyance as though I’m supposed to know what’s chapping his ass this time. I wait for what he says next, knowing I’m the one who’s more likely to be annoyed.
“Could she still stay there?”