Chapter 18
Clara
Zee’s smile was enough to make me dumb. Each time he sent one my way, it was like my brain cells couldn’t handle it and they started to die off.
Couple that with the way he kept touching me, the way he had me tucked between his thighs as we went over patient files together at the kitchen island, and I was misfiring with every thought I had.
It didn’t help that my supply was gone. After digging through my mother’s stash, I knew there were too few pills left in the bottle for me to be able to take one unnoticed. It left me unfocused and unnerved. I couldn’t stop the tap, tap, tapping of my fingers on my thighs.
“What’s wrong?” Zee asked, his chin hooked over my shoulder, his face so close to my own. He strung his fingers between mine, stopping the incessant tapping in a way I wasn’t able to myself. “You look confused.”
I tilted my head to the side, but he was so close, my face brushed along his cheek. I nuzzled his ear, and he gave the tiniest hint of a moan. “I feel like…”
This time, a full-fledged moan pulled from his chest, my lips brushing at his throat the cause.
“What do you feel like?” he asked, turning me in my seat and yanking me out of my chair and into his lap.
An idea popped to the forefront of my mind, something I’d been wondering for a while now, but had no reason to ask. “I feel like I could use a family tree.”
Zee smoothed his hands over my ass, then tugged me closer. “A tree for what family?”
“The whole Syndicate. It’s confusing.”
“How so?”
I gestured over my shoulder to the stacks of files. “I know who Mateo Medina is, obviously,” I said, indicating the file we’d been looking over. “I’m lost on his brothers, though. Yanny and G and Diesel?”
Zee shook his head, spinning his chair so he could reach for the file. “It’s not—”
I covered his lips with my fingers. “And obviously, Rolly is Paulo’s nephew. But you’re confusing me with the whole David family. And everyone else. How am I supposed to keep all these gunshot wounds and injuries separate when I can’t place who the people are?”
Twisting in his lap, I grabbed the oldest of his files, the ones we had yet to discuss.
“Look at this.” I flipped through the stack.
“Tedesco, Marconi, Scavo, Luzzato… I barely recognize these names. And these are the long-standing families, right? So I’m just supposed to fumble as I talk to these men who are old enough to be my grandfather?
What if I disrespect them by tying them to the wrong family?
What if they hire the Nazario family to take me out. ”
“First of all,” Zee said, dragging my hand away from his lips, “it’s the Medinas who are the hitmen. The Nazarios—”
“That’s exactly what I mean!”
He shook his head, a smile tilting his lips. “Second of all, no one would dare put a hit out on the beautiful Clara Vinci.”
“Why not?” I shrugged. “It’s not like I’m important.”
“Clara.” Zee gripped my face, forcing me to look at him. “You are important.”
“I’m not, though.”
“You’re the daughter of Adalberto and Daphne Vinci. You’re Stephano’s baby sister. You’re my—” He paused, his gaze dropping to where he held my hand. He brought my fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss into my skin.
“I’m your, what?”
He shook his head, then peeked up at me. And I saw what he couldn’t say.
Not enough.
You’re not enough, Clara.
“You’re important,” he said, his voice a gruff whisper. “No one will hurt you.”
No one will hurt you, because you’re not enough.
“I’ll make you a chart,” Zee said, filling the silence that had fallen over us. “I’ll help you figure it all out. I promise.”
“Okay.” I slid from his lap and began piling the folders up.
“What are you doing?”
“Cleaning.” I slid a stack his way. “I have to go.”
“Where?” he asked, halting my movements with his hands on mine, pinning me against the counter.
“Out.” I twisted in his grip, turning to face him. “I'm going out with friends.”
“Who?”
Shrugging, I pushed past him, reaching for a lie. “Sarah—”
“David?”
I pursed my lips. “There’s more than one Sarah in the world, Zeno.”
“I know that.” He was so petulant sometimes.
Lifting my hand, I smoothed it along his chest. “You don’t have to worry.”
“I always worry about you,” he told me, covering my hand with his own. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“No one will hurt me, remember?” They’d have to care first.
“Clara.” Zee wrapped his arms around me, tugging me into his chest. If I didn’t have to go, I wouldn’t. Because being with him had always been the one thing that calmed me and made me feel right. “Are you coming back tonight?”
Tilting my head, I looked up at him. Something about the way he said it made me think he actually wanted me to. But I couldn’t dare hope. That only brought about the pain I’d been feeling for weeks.
Still, mischief was my best friend. I lifted onto my toes, pressing my lips to his throat before I rasped out, “I’m not sure. Do you want me here?”
“I want you safe.” His voice was a sharp snap. I pulled my head back and glared at him.
“Yes, Daddy.”
Nostrils flaring, Zee reached up and pinched my nipple. I screamed at the sharp bite of pain, but he cut the sound off, slapping a hand over my mouth and pushing me against the counter. Boxing me in with his big, hard body.
“Don’t call me Daddy.”
I bit his hand, and he yanked it away from me with a yelp. “Yes, Daddy.”
Zee’s hand flew out, grabbing my jaw and yanking me forward.
I didn’t have time to protest before his mouth was crushed against mine.
I wanted to fight him, but more than anything, I wanted his kiss.
I wanted to touch him, to slide my fingers into his waistband and rub his dick until he was hard as a rock.
As it turned out, I didn’t have to rub at all. Zeno was already hard as steel. The moan he let loose when my fingertips touched his velvety skin had me dying for more.
“Stop.” He yanked away from me, chest heaving as the tip of his dick rose above the band of his pants, dripping precum as it peeked out. “Fuck, Clara.”
He thrust a hand through his hair before turning away from me and walking to the other side of the room.
My lips, raw and swollen from his brutal kiss, curled into a smirk. “Did you like that, Daddy? Did I make you feel good?”
“Clara!” He didn’t turn, didn’t look back at me. Instead, he kept staring at the far wall. “Enough!”
You’ll never be enough.
Grabbing my clutch from the counter, I bolted for the front room. And though I knew it was my pathetic hopes telling me so, I swore, as I raced out the door, that he’d followed me there and watched me go.