Chapter 31 – Markos
“You’re going to do it, and you’re going to do it today,” I said coldly.
The red-faced musician with a sharp nose and an even sharper tongue began to protest. I leaned forward, snatching his scrawny neck in just one of my hands. Dragging him to the wall, I pressed his back flush against it and lifted him off the floor.
“Not so tough now, maestro.” His feet kicked wildly against my shins, and his fingers clawed at my arm. “I need that piano delivered today. I was going to give you the whole day, but now I’m going to give you until noon.”
The man croaked something that sounded like an assent. It was hard to say with my grip crushing his windpipe.
“Nod.” He did. “Good, maestro.” I lowered him, released my hold a fraction, but didn’t free him. “If the piano is not delivered by noon sharp, sitting in my living room, I will begin to cut off your fingers—one by one—until it is.”
His bloodshot eyes popped wide.
“Can’t play your tunes without those fingers.” I smirked. “Oh, and did I mention I live on the thirteenth floor of a condo? Better call in some favors with a construction company.”
With that parting shot, I left the shop.
Iris was going to kill me. When I called to ask where she studied voice, she referred me to her friend.
The conversation had started pleasantly enough, the musician was going to collect a large commission from the sale of the expensive grand piano.
But when he insisted it would take up to six weeks for delivery, we began to disagree.
Things escalated.
He threatened to call the cops.
And then I choked him on the wall.
Just as I was driving to Delphi to go over some numbers with the manager, Iris called. I debated accepting, but decided to send her to voicemail. It would be more fun for the harpy to chew me out in person.
Things had been going so well at home. Ever since Serena let me be.
..well, me, a final barrier had been breached.
We’d fallen into an easy rhythm, the last week feeling like a dream.
It was beginning to feel like we were well and truly married.
She’d even asked to be tied up again—the little princess was addicted to my darker side.
And now I wanted to spoil her, to show her how much I cared about her happiness.
I chuckled. “She’s going to love it.”
It was the only present grand enough to make the statement my sentiments demanded.
***
A few hours into the morning, I received an email.
[email protected]: There is a crane outside, and they are attempting to deliver a piano. What were you thinking, pirate?
“I was thinking about you playing, little goddess.” I chuckled, feeling the scowl behind her words.
There was no thank you or words of excitement. I hadn’t counted on either, but I’d hoped. Serena was reserved and likely didn’t play for others. That was fine. I didn’t want her playing for anyone else.
But I would earn her melody. Given enough time, she would play for me.
I tried to resume my work. Documents blurred in front of my eyes. Business fluttered aimlessly through my mind. None of it held my attention. The thoughts of the piano delivery, of the princess bewildered in the condo, consumed me. I was missing it sitting here.
The metal folding chair shot back, scraping against the floor. I ripped open the door.
And faced the barrel of a pistol.
“You asshole!” Iris shouted.
I lifted my gaze in supplication. “Not now, harpy.”
“How dare you assault my vocal instructor!” she seethed.
This conversation was done. With a feint to the left, I snatched her wrist, forced it to the ceiling. A shot fired, loud and angry. Corkboard and insulation rained down on us.
But in three seconds, I disarmed her.
“I wasn’t in the mood to be trifled with this morning, and that hasn’t changed,” I growled. “How dare you come here and threaten to shoot me?”
Iris tried to attack. She was a damn good fighter. Her hand-to-hand technique was solid. But I studied the same combat book she did. My strength and height was enough to send her sprawling back into my office.
“You bastard!” she screamed in frustration.
“You’re good, harpy, I’ll grant you that.” I tucked her pistol in my waistband. “But you’ll never be as powerful as the rest of us.”
The insult to her size was cruel.
Her shriek of fury rang through the corridor. Iris flew at me, fists raised. I deflected, dodged, and retreated.
“Next time, just shoot me. It’s what a real gangster would do,” I said, knowing the words rubbed salt in the wound.
But she’d attacked me. There was no remorse for what I said.
I jogged down the backstairs, the incensed mite of a woman hot on my heels. Angry words chased me to my jeep, but I didn’t stop. Didn’t look back as I climbed inside and started the engine.
“Run and tattle to big brother,” I mocked.
Iris pulled a knife and stabbed my tire. “No man fights my battles!”
Fucking hell....
Air swished from the deflating rubber. It wasn’t easy to puncture that thick material.
Cursing, I launched from the jeep. Anger rolled through me, a deep, unsettling wave of black.
Iris backed up, sensing the line she’d crossed but unable to keep the smile from her face.
“You threaten one of my friends again, and I’ll stab your manhood,” she promised.
Darting away, the mite vaulted into her convertible and sped away as I lunged for her.
Fists at my sides, my lungs worked as great bellows.
Not only had she made it impossible to go back inside and return to work, but Iris kept me from going to see the object of my obsession.
Sanity fought the cloud of wrath, and when it finally gained the upper hand, I retreated to the back of the jeep and unlocked the toolbox.
Only to discover it’d been broken into. The jack was gone. Iris, you little menace.
***
It was early evening before I finally managed to return home. Once I managed to obtain the right tools and change the tire, Anatole showed up to go over the club’s numbers with Ajax and me. The weekly meeting was unavoidable.
I raced through the rush hour traffic, daring the cops to catch me. The SunPass tolls were a lifesaver, but exiting the beltway and creeping down the main roads was torture.
Pulling into the condo parking lot, I cracked my neck before looking up to the landing where the condo door was.
This place had never been home until Serena moved in, but right now, I knew I wasn’t in a good headspace to go inside.
I would desecrate the space with the black energy simmering in my veins.
Pushing hard from the jeep, I walked under the building to the opposite side. A good jog down the shore would be just the thing to clear my head.
As I stepped from the shadows, a forlorn strain of music—so soft that the waves crashing against the beach nearly muted the sound—caught me.
The sound was a spell. The melody plucked at my very soul.
I stopped dead in my tracks. Not a muscle moved in my body.
I held my breath as the music consumed me.
If I didn’t believe in witchcraft before, I did now.
The music softened my anger and frustration. The cares and toils of the day drifted away—actually melted from my body!
I inhaled a ragged breath. It slid back out, blowing hard between my lips. Another deep breath, and then I turned on my heel. I flew up the stairs; my feet barely seemed to touch the concrete. There was no music here, but the haunting feeling was embedded deep inside.
Key in hand, I didn’t pause to open the door. I stepped inside.
Only to silence the melody with my presence.
“You’re back,” Serena said dryly. She reached for the cover and closed the wood over the keys. Then she moved to close the lid on the back. It clapped shut with a dreadful finality.
No! I clenched my jaw to keep from begging her to continue.
“Do you know what kind of chaos this—” Serena gestured to the piano “—caused today?”
I grumbled something, shut and locked the door, and marched to the cabinet for a glass and the bottle of vodka.
“The building manager was irate that a crane—a freaking crane, Markos—showed up. The tenant association is going to write you up. They nearly came to blows trying to deliver this thing here.”
The liquid fire slipped down my throat. My empty stomach burned in protest. “Fuck ‘em.”
Serena gaped at me. “That’s your answer? Markos! This is our home!”
Our home—did she know what those words did to me? I’d been thinking it for days, but that was the confirmation I needed to know she felt the same way.
Relief seeped into my tight muscles, relaxing them a fraction. The orphan boy had a home—at last.
I set the glass down hard. “Yes. I pay good money for us to live here, why the fuck shouldn’t we own a piano?”
She shook her head, that curtain of silky gold waved through the air, making my fingers itch. “For a mobster, you’re not afraid to cause a scene.”
“I am a monster,” I confirmed, using the synonym of her word. “I will pay them off and the issue will be resolved.”
“Well, there’s a chicken roasting in the oven. Should be done in an hour. I’m going for a swim in the pool before we lose access to the amenities.” Serena glided toward the guest room where her clothes filled the closet.
At the mention of food, my other senses came alive. I inhaled, mouth watering at the sudden scent perfuming the air.
I was hungry.
But not for poultry.
“Stop.” The command came out rougher than I meant.
Serena froze in the middle of the room.
I stepped forward. “Go back to the piano.”
A scornful laugh fell from her lips. “I don’t play for anyone, Markos. If you thought you’d be the exception, you were sorely mistaken.”
I prowled forward. “You’re not playing.”
She arched a brow.
“It’s my turn.” I forced her back as I moved into her space.
“Markos.” My name was shaky as it formed on her tongue. “What are you doing?”
“Playing with my new instrument.” I snatched her waist, backed her against the piano, and lifted her onto the shelf covering the keys.
Her breath hitched.