Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Hannah
The sun spills through the thin curtains of my small apartment, casting a soft glow on the room.
I hear water running in the shower, and knowing Armando is still here calms me.
I get up and flit aimlessly around the bedroom, picking up strewn clothing without thinking. No, that’s not true. I’m trying not to think, but yesterday’s events are playing on loop in my mind. The sudden screech of tires, the sharp crack of gunfire, and Marco's pained eyes haunt me.
Someone wants Armando dead.
That thought terrifies me. I stare at the floor, searching for answers that aren't there.
As if on cue, the bathroom door creaks open, and Armando strides out, his damp hair slicked back from his face.
He's dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, looking every bit the powerful and dangerous man he is.
It's as if last night never happened, like he's untouchable.
As always, his presence is both reassuring and intimidating.
“Morning, Flowers,” he says coolly, eyes scanning me from head to toe. His voice is like velvet, soothing some of the anxiety that has been gnawing at me since I woke up. But his stoic demeanor also serves as a reminder that this kind of violence isn't new to him—it's part of his life.
“Morning,” I reply, trying to steady my voice. “How's Marco?”
“Alive,” he answers simply, his expression still as calm and collected as ever. “He'll be fine. It's not the first time he's been shot.” There's a hint of bitterness in his words, daring me to question him further. But I can't help myself.
“Did he say how long he’ll be in the hospital? I was thinking of sending him some flowers.”
“Don’t. I don’t want you to be seen with him. Or me. I don’t want that connection made for anyone. Okay?”
“Is this what your life will always be like? Are we constantly going to be in danger?”
His eyes flash with something dark, almost vulnerable, before he turns away. “There is no we , Hannah,” he says quietly, his back to me. “ Because of the danger. I’m sorry you got dragged into this, but I’m going to try to keep you out of anything else.”
Right. No we.
Armando turns, and he must see my hurt because he moves to me, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me close. My face presses against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart beating beneath my ear. It's comforting, grounding me in this moment.
“I’m sorry I got you into this.” His voice is tense, but his fingers trace my back gently.
“I think the adrenaline of last night is wearing off. I feel… scared,” I confess, my hands gripping the fabric of his suit jacket. “Not for me, but for you.”
He lets out a shocked chuff. “Me? Don’t worry about me, baby girl. The outfit... it's a part of me. Danger is woven into every day for me. That won't change. I can't give it up, even if I wanted to.” His voice cracks slightly, betraying the pain he feels in admitting this truth.
“Is this who you are then? A man constantly surrounded by violence and fear?” I ask, trying to understand the depth of his involvement in the mafia but also hoping I don’t sound judgey.
“Unfortunately, yes,” he admits, his grip on me tightening. “I was born into this life, and I've done things I'm not proud of. But I don't want it to touch you any more than it already has, Hannah. You deserve better.”
My eyes swim with tears.
I know he’s saying he cares about me, but he’s also pushing me away. Shutting me out. Telling me we have no future.
“Just because I’m scared–” I stop. I’m not sure what to say. “Armando, I don't care about your past or what you are.”
He seems to stop breathing. “You should.” His voice is hard. Dark.
“I know what I deserve. And right now, that’s you.”
My chest tightens at the thought of a future filled with violence and fear, but I can't imagine my life without him in it.
I know it's not his fault that he was born into this world, and I don't want to ask him to change who he is.
However, I can't ignore the fact that by being with him, I'm accepting a life that may never be free from danger.
Facing that reality doesn’t mean I have to flee from it.
“I promise you, I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe. What happened yesterday will not go unpunished. I’ll make damn sure none of this touches you again.” Armando's jaw tightens, and I see the fierce protectiveness rising within him.
He looks at me for a long moment, the weight of his past heavy in his gaze. His breath warm against my skin. Something shifts in his expression then, a spark igniting behind his eyes.
Armando
I take the L to the construction site and check in with the foreman, Larry. He gives me the up and down. I dressed in a suit and tie, which I know is overdressed for a construction site. But it’s not overdressed for a lieutenant of the mafia, and I need to establish who the fuck I am.
“Yeah. Okay. So on the books you’re listed as a supervisor. If anyone ever shows up here to inspect, just look official. You dressed the part, so that’s good. Other than that—you do what you want. I’m sure you know that already.”
I nod. “Yeah. Definitely. So am I supposed to be your supervisor?”
His nostrils flare. “That’s right. Real supervisor manages eight other sites. I handle everything here on my own.”
I shove my hands in my pockets to look less threatening. Not a look I’ve perfected, but somewhere in me, there used to be a guy who knew how to do casual. “So maybe I’ll just tag along with you... learn the ropes.”
What else am I gonna do? I spent four and a half years bored. Now that I’m out, I don’t want to lounge around and do nothing. Plus, I need something to keep my mind off the thought of Hannah almost getting shot. That and our night and morning of epic fucking.
Of course, Larry doesn’t like that. Not one fucking bit. I know because he kinda goes stiff and freezes for a couple seconds before he lets out a choked, “Yeah, okay.”
He has to say okay . No one’s gonna fuck with me here. The Pachino family runs the union.
I follow him around and pay attention, introducing myself to the guys when Larry doesn’t bother. It’s not that I suddenly feel friendly. Fuck no. But I force myself to at least go through the motions.
“He’s the union-provided supervisor,” Larry inserts meaningfully each time, letting them all know exactly what that means.
I’m a mobster there to milk their employer for a paycheck while doing nothing.
Well, they might be surprised. I might end up doing more than texting my buddies all day. Or I might not. Who the fuck knows? All I know is I’m hungry to work. I had to hold myself back from inserting myself into Hannah’s business. Telling her all the ideas I had for it.
That would be wrong. Hannah doesn’t need me to bust in and tell her how to do anything. She’s gotta figure that shit out on her own, or else she’ll never take full ownership over there. But damn, I want to help.
A big black guy in his fifties comes over to talk to Larry. When I introduce myself, I find out his name is Harold, and he’s an electrician.
I can tell he doesn’t want to say what he is about to. “Listen, I’ve been a little short of breath lately, and my wife got me an appointment this afternoon with one of her doctors at the hospital. I know it’s short notice, and we’re on a deadline, but?—”
“No way, Harold. Absolutely not. You know we have to get the wiring up today or the inspection won’t pass.”
I don’t know if I’m dicking with Larry or just want to throw my weight around, but I interject. Afterall, I’m technically his boss, right? “Let him finish,” I say. “Maybe he has a plan to make sure it all gets done.” I turn my gaze on Harold. “Do you?”
“Yeah,” he says. I can hear the piss-off in his voice. “I was going to say that I should be finished by lunch time, and if anything comes up in the inspection, Chad can handle it.”
“Chad can’t handle something this important. No way,” Larry splutters. It’s possible he’s just pissed that I inserted myself. Or maybe he’s always a dick. Larry’s in his late thirties. Good looking. Probably has a pretty wife and kid at home.
I already want to bust his teeth in, and I’m sure he feels the same way about me for sticking my nose in the business.
“Short of breath sounds serious,” I say. “You’d better keep that appointment.”
Eat my shit, Larry.
Larry’s face turns deep red.
“If something comes up during the inspection that Chad can’t handle, can we call your cell?” I pull out my phone.
Harold appears relieved. “Of course.” He gives me his number while Larry shifts from foot to foot, looking like he’s getting anally fisted.
Probably not my brightest move pissing off the foreman on my first day.
Then again, these fuckers can’t touch me.
Not that I need the organization’s back in this situation, but the Pachino’s have instilled enough fear in Local 352 over the past 30 years that no one in his right mind would even say boo to me.
And I’m already a shred closer to enjoying myself. I guess the alpha male in me needed to piss on someone. Plus, I know I’m right. Why the fuck would a foreman deny a guy short of breath from a semi-emergency doctor’s visit? That’s fucked up.
“Show me who Chad is,” I instruct Harold and follow him further into the building.
I’m gonna make this job my bitch. Because right now, it’s the only thing I have.
Unless I count Hannah. I mean, I definitely count Hannah, but I can’t really consider her mine. Yeah, I claimed her right from the fucking start. And she definitely went with it.
But I have jack shit to offer her. I can’t be her boyfriend. Not when there’s a gang shooting up my apartment, a murder attempt on my cousin, and I’m an emotional carcass.
She deserves better than that.
Which means… fuck. I probably should leave her the hell alone. Make a clean break before she gets hurt.
Only I’m way too fucking selfish right now to do that.
Because that girl is about the only thing that brings me light right now.