Mafia Crown: Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance, page 4
"Theresa?" Adrian nods. "She is one of us."
"Is she related to you guys?" I scowl.
"No, she’s not related to us.” Seb gives me a pointed look. “She was Xander’s…" he hesitates, "friend. So, by default, she comes under our protection."
The breath I had not been aware I was holding rushes out. What the fuck? Why did the thought of her being with one of these jokers cause me such dread?
"Although, considering how you rebuffed her, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if one of us decides to pursue her, eh?" Luca adds.
A growl rips up my throat and I blink. What the fuck? What do I care if she decides to hook up with one of them? Not my problem. They are welcome to her. A hot sensation stabs at my chest. I ignore it. "Go for it." I close my eyes again. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get my beauty sleep."
"Not so quickly." I open my eyes and Michael narrows his gaze on me, "As soon as the doctor agrees, we’re moving you out of here."
"What do you mean? I am not going anywhere with you. I plan to get on my feet then…" get out of here. I don’t say the words aloud.
"Exactly." Michael smirks. "Afraid we’re putting you under an old-fashioned house arrest."
"Are you?" I tilt my head.
"Can’t have you getting your memory back, and then you go rushing off to whoever it is you owe your allegiance to," Seb confirms.
"We’re not letting you leave." Christian bares his teeth. "Not until we figure out who the hell is behind your actions."
"What makes you think I was following anyone’s orders?" I manage to fold my arms behind my neck. My muscles grumble, my biceps hurt, but fuck that. I grit my teeth, force a bored expression on my face. "And I’m not going anywhere with you."
"Oh, you are," Massimo drawls.
"Keep dreaming," I say mildly.
"He has no idea." Adrian shakes his head.
"None whatsoever." Luca smirks.
"The fuck you talking about?"
"The fact that, in about two minutes, you are going to agree to everything we ask of you," Seb retorts.
"And I thought I was the one on painkillers." I chuckle "What have you guys been imbibing, eh?"
"Wait for it," Christian cups his palm behind his ears, "wait for it."
"What the hell?" I stare at them.
"Any moment now," Adrian adds.
The door to the room opens, and the clack of heels hitting the floor reaches me.
"Axel, my boy," a woman’s voice reaches me.
The guys move aside so I have an unrestricted view of the woman who has entered the room. Her hair is grey and cut in a bob which sweeps her chin. Her features are almost regal as she sweeps her gaze over me. She wears a pantsuit, and on her feet, she wears stilettos I’d expect to see on a woman half her age. She wears a string of pearls around her neck, which only adds to her aristocratic bearing.
"There you are." She brushes past Michael and bends to take my hand. "I am so happy that you are awake. I was so worried about you, nipotino mio."
"Uh," I turn to Luca, "what does that mean?"
"It means my grandson," the woman interjects. "I am your grandmother, Axel."
"Grandmother?" I blink. "So, you are my father’s—"
"Mother, yes," she nods. "Unfortunately, your father is no longer with us."
"I guessed." I frown back at her. "How did he die?" I raise a hand, "No, don’t tell me. I’m guessing he was killed by one of you?" I glance around at the gathered men.
"Not so sadly, I take the credit for that," Michael retorts. "He wanted me out of the way, so I had to kill him first."
"Sounds like a fun family," I respond.
"I understand how it might come across to an outsider," my grandmother murmurs, "but make no mistake, we have each other’s backs." She holds my gaze, "And you are one of us now, ciccino bello."
"That means my wonderful grandson," Luca explains.
"I gathered," I say wryly. "So," I turn to the older woman, "you are my grandmother?"
"You can call me Nonna." She pats my hand.
"Nonna," I murmur, "you are clearly a woman to be reckoned with."
"Oh, phst," she waves her free hand in the air, "the way you turn on that charm effortlessly, you remind me of my husband…god rest his soul," she releases my arm to cross herself, "before he decided to stray from our marriage."
"Ah," I close my mouth which I, only now, realize has fallen open, "is that good or bad? Not your husband straying from his marriage, but the fact that I remind you of him," I hasten to clarify.
"It’s good," she laughs. "He was a rake, but damn, if he wasn’t charismatic. I fell for him the moment I met him, and stayed married to him until he died."
"You didn’t kill him, did you?" I ask only half-jokingly.
She fixes me with that gimlet eye of hers, "I knew you were smart." She laughs.
"Eh?" I scowl, "So, you did…off him?"
"Not me, personally, but his enemies did finally get to him."
"Are you telling me you had a hand in it?"
"Now, now, I am not the kind to kiss and tell, if you get my drift." She cackles.
That headache pounding behind my eyes turns up a notch. And I thought I had a bloodthirsty background? Hanging out with the Sovranos gives a whole new perspective on the meaning of 'nearer the blood the bloodier,' as someone—whose name is inconsequential— once remarked.
"You’ve gone pale." Nonna’s sharp gaze instantly spots my discomfort. "Do you need your painkillers?"
"No," I shake my head, then wince when the hammers behind my head turn up the intensity of their drumming. "No more painkillers."
"The man’s as obstinate as the rest of you," Nonna says in an affectionate voice.
I feel my eyelids flutter down and force them open. "I want to make it very clear that I am not one of you."
"I think the man protests too much," Seb murmurs. "Why don’t you get some shut-eye, eh?"
As they turn to leave, I call out, "Seb?"
He turns.
"I need your help."
He walks over to me, "What is it?"
"Can you get me a pack of cigarettes and a lighter?"
"Smoker, eh?"
I raise a shoulder.
"You're aware this is a hospital and smoking is not allowed, right?"
I gape at him and he bursts out laughing, "Relax. The rules don't apply to the Cosa Nostra. I'll get it for you."
He pivots on his heels, then hesitates, and leaves.
I lay back and don’t fight the sleep that overwhelms me.
When I wake up next, it’s dark outside the windows. Illumination from the safety lights highlights the face of the person sleeping in the chair. The pale skin and the sweep of auburn hair flowing over the chair indicates it’s her.
Her chest rises and falls, and she has her cheek cushioned in her palm. The dark curve of her eyelashes rests against her cheekbones. She stirs in her sleep, then settles again. When her breathing evens out, I glance away and spot the pack of cigarettes and lighter on the side table. Guess Seb came through for me.
I reach for the lighter, flick on the flame, then hold my palm around it. The warmth seeps into my blood and I sigh. I click off the lighter, place it on the bedside, then swing my legs over the side of the bed. My feet hit the ground, then I take a deep breath and push myself to a standing position. My thighs burn, my calves hurt, and my knees threaten to give out from under me. I dig my heels into the floor, and thankfully, my legs seem to hold me up. I lower myself to the ground. Every muscle in my body protests, but I ignore the pain. I manage to lower my body weight onto my palms and feet, and fuck! My entire body trembles. My biceps spasm and my calf muscles scream in protest as I bend my elbows and push down, then thrust upward. My shoulders convulse and the still unhealed wound at my temple throbs. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I grit my teeth, push through the pain, force my muscles to comply as I flow into another push-up. My vision flickers. Sweat trickles down my temple, trails down my chin to plop on the floor. My entire body turns into one pulsating vector of pain as I push down, then up. Again and again.
"What are you doing?"
I lose my balance and face-plant on the floor. "Fuck." I pant, try to roll over, but find my arms no longer obey my command. "Bloody fuck!" I growl, then stiffen when she grips my shoulder.
"Let me help you."
She sits down cross-legged next to me, and grips the underside of my shoulder. She leans in closer and the scent of apple blossoms fills my nostrils. I draw in her scent, fill my lungs with it, use it to center myself. Her pushing, combined with my own efforts, means I finally manage to turn over on my back. I collapse on the ground, my breath coming in pants. My heart thunders in my chest like I have run for miles. At this rate, it’s going to be weeks…maybe months before I return to my former strength. I cannot let that happen. I need to get back to full health as soon as possible.
I close my eyes, focus on regulating my breath, on getting my pulse rate under control. When I open my eyes, I find her scrutinizing my features.
"What?" I growl. "Happy to see a man falling apart in front of you."
A stricken look crosses her features. Fuck, why did I have to say that? Why do I have to hurt her every time I see her. I close my eyes again. "I told you stay away from me, didn’t I? I am not good for you, Theresa."
"Let me be the judge of that."
I crack open my eyes and meet her gaze. She holds it, then color stains her cheeks. Jesus, how innocent is she that she can’t even hold my gaze without blushing. How sheltered has she been? What little I know tells me the Mafia are protective about their women. And the Sovrano’s consider her one of theirs. So, chances are good, she hasn’t seen much of the world outside of Palermo, or been with any man except for Xander. Or has she?
"Are you a virgin?"
6
Theresa
OMG, that inevitable question. Why is it such a big deal for these men anyway? And why is he asking me that question now? Is he interested in me? Is that what this is about? But all of his actions so far indicate the exact opposite.
"What do you think?" I shoot back.
He blows out a breath, "I’ll take that as a yes."
"That’s not what I said."
"You didn’t need to." He tries to sit up, only to collapse back onto the ground. He growls in frustration, then pushes up off his elbows. This time, he makes it halfway up before gravity pulls him back onto the floor. "Fuck," he yells. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." The tendons of his beautiful neck strain, the skin glistening with sweat. The hospital gown he’s wearing gapes in the front. I take in the groove between his pecs, the design of a tattoo that creeps up over his shoulder. It’s something I had noticed before, but now I can make out the intricate whorls, the pattern, the colors. Does it flow down his back as well? Does it cover his biceps?
A bead of sweat trails down his temple and I lean down and lick it up.
His entire body goes solid. His shoulder planes tense. He glares at me as if he can’t quite believe what I did. Truthfully, I can’t believe I did it either. Maybe it’s because he guessed that I was a virgin. Maybe because I am pissed at myself for having stayed a virgin for a man who may or may not have loved me; something I’ll never know now because I didn’t have the lady balls to confront him about it. For some reason, I have been given a second chance here with Axel. Who is not Xander. I may have wanted him to be Xander when he was unconscious, but now that he is awake, now that his blue gaze bores into mine, now that the awareness behind those eyes is focused on me, it’s clear to me that this man is nothing like Xander.
Xander had a laid-back charm about him, a goodness that seemed to permeate everything around him. He had a charisma which made me feel that the world could be a better place than what people believed. It’s why I wanted to be with him. He gave me hope. He was everything Axel is not.
Where Xander was all light and brightness, Axel is darkness—he is deeper, more complex, more intense, more secretive…in a way that makes me want to dig in and unearth what it is that he holds so close to his heart, what it is that he is concealing under the mask he shows to the rest of the world. And it’s not only because his memories haven’t returned completely… It’s something else. Something I can’t put my finger on, something that pulls me closer, makes me want to throw myself at him and sink my teeth into his skin until I unearth whatever it is that lurks just under the surface.
I bite down on my lower lip and his gaze drops to my mouth. His nostrils flare. He stares at my mouth like he wants to taste me, consume me, absorb me into himself and never let go, and somehow, I have a feeling I wouldn’t protest if he did so. I gulp, the sound audible in the silence.
"Don’t start something you won’t be able to see through," he drawls.
I scowl, "Good to know you already have a preset impression of me that has nothing to do with what I actually am."
"Oh?" He raises his gaze to mine, "And what are you?"
"I am not as innocent as people make me out to be."
"Is that right?"
I tip up my chin, "Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me." I lean in close enough for our breaths to mingle. "Don’t mistake me for a wilting flower, because I am not."
He rakes his gaze across my features before meeting my eyes again. There’s a flash of interest in the depths of his eyes, something I hadn’t noticed before. It’s as if he’s seeing me properly for the first time. Asshole.
"When I make up my mind that I want something, I go after it. I can be very persistent." I stare at his mouth and something hot unfurls in my chest. My core clenches and my pulse rate ratchets up. I draw in his breath and that musky, sweaty scent of his pours through my veins. I touch my lips to his, and the next moment, I am pulled into his chest. I lose my balance, fall on him, and he groans.
"Oh hell, sorry, sorry, sorry," I try to push away, but even in his weakened state, his arm around me holds me in place.
The color drains from his face, but he doesn’t release me.
"I thought you still weren’t able to use your arms and legs properly?"
"Turns out, I only need the right motivation." He smirks. "You were saying?"
"What?" I frown, unable to turn my gaze away from that gorgeous mouth of his. The hard planes of his body dig into my chest. Damn, he may need rehab to get back on his feet, but lying horizontal like this, with every inch of my body plastered to his, I feel smaller, softer, and overwhelmed by his masculinity. Every dip and ridge of his muscles, every indentation of his tendons, every hard plane of his body hints at the power coiled under his skin. Something only temporarily leashed by the position he is in now. It won’t be long before he’s back on his feet and then…
He’ll leave. I know he will. He’ll walk away and I… I won’t have anything left to show. Again. And that…that I can’t bear. Not again. I am not going to lose this man… No, he is not Xander… I know, but something about him pulls me in a way that Xander never did. My head spins. I don’t know this man at all…but no way, am I letting him leave me. This time, I am going to stake my claim. This time, I am going to make sure that I don’t commit the mistakes of my past.
"You said something about being persistent?" His smile widens, "Let’s see how—"
I lower my head and smash my mouth to his. I must take him by surprise because he parts his lips, and I thrust my tongue inside his mouth. A groan rips up his chest. The next moment, he grips my hair and tugs, so I have no choice but to jerk my chin up.
"That’s not how this works, Sunshine," he murmurs. "Just because I am not one-hundred percent functional doesn’t mean that you can take control."
"And here I was, thinking you didn’t want anything to do with me," I say lightly.
"Oh, I still don’t," he retorts.
"Um…excuse me, but are you living in a parallel reality? From where I am," I push my pelvis into the hard column between his legs that tents the hospital gown, "it seems you want me a lot."
"I am never one to turn down free pussy."
I gape at him, "You’re an asshole."
"So you keep saying, and yet you keep throwing yourself at me."
"I am not—" I close my mouth.
"You aren’t?" He smirks. The bastard smirks as he takes in my flushed features.
"Okay, I admit, I’m the one who made the first move. From the moment you stepped in front of me and that bullet hit you, I haven’t been the same." I swallow. "You remind me of Xander and I know you are not the same, but tell that to my heart, which can’t seem to tell the difference. I lost Xander and I don’t want to lose you as well."
"You never had me to lose me," he points out.
"You think I don’t know that? All the time you were in a coma, I kept watch over you, and I kept telling myself that you were not Xander, but a part of me refused to believe… I still can’t get my head around how similar the two of you are."
"Put it down to being a coincidence," he offers. "I understand that it must be difficult for you to see him every time you look at me, but I promise you, I am not him."
"I know..." I close my eyes. "Please, can you release me now?"
"No."
I glance down at him, "What do you mean, no?"
"You set out to kiss me; you may as well as do it properly."
"I don’t want to kiss you anymore." I scowl.
"Too-fucking-bad, Sunshine. You started the job; you have to finish it now." He pushes down on my head until my nose bumps his, until my lips are poised over his and I can’t escape that searing gaze of his which holds mine. He presses his lips to mine. He brushes his mouth over mine with such gentleness that my breath catches. He nibbles on my lower lip. I open my mouth and he sweeps his tongue across the inner seam of my lip. His tongue tangles with mine and a flash of fire ignites low in my belly. I wriggle against him, and the thickness between his legs seems to lengthen further. Vibrations of awareness shoot up my spine. Still holding my gaze, he deepens the kiss. He sucks on my tongue, draws from me, seems to consume my breath, my taste, my very soul, which he’s about to lay claim to.
