Page 32 of Angel of Light (Lords of The Commission: New York #5)

ALISON

I was still shaking.

Lips dry and knees wobbly as I made my way back to the table.

I expected to have all eyes on me once I was back, but the conversation had them all focused on the topic at hand.

It was heated and euphoric, like the theme had turned political with a dash of religion on the side, where everyone had a different view and opinion.

I’d say dangerously explosive, but I’m not sure anyone here would appreciate my humor.

Slipping into my chair, I took the first glass I could find and downed whatever was in it.

I needed something to anchor me. Anything to convince me that Max’s hands weren’t still on me, that his fingers weren't still between my thighs, that my panties weren’t still tucked in his pocket like a goddamn trophy.

Like I wasn’t about to come if I grinded too hard against this damn chair.

I could still taste him on my lips.

Still feel the weight of his body behind mine.

Still hear the low, strained moan he let out when he came undone inside me.

God.

I squeezed my legs shut. Not because it helped but because it was the only movement I could manage that wouldn’t give me away.

Besides, I was already feeling Max’s cum sliding out of me, and it was all I could do to try and keep it inside of me while I sat here at the dinner table, surrounded by Mafiosi men.

Something had shifted after I returned from the bathroom.

It was subtle, like a turn of a breeze before a storm.

Vincenzo had a murderous look in his grey eyes, and his silence was disturbing, yet it changed in a nanosecond when Lazzaro addressed him or his opinion was sought.

False and staged. He wanted me to notice his displeasure. No one else.

Whatever Max said to him rattled the man to his bones, and he was utterly off balance. It was clear he was assessing his next move, which only made me more positive that me and my current conditioned memory were at the center of his worries.

I still didn’t know how faking my memory loss came to use, but as of now, it won me some time off from being the fiancé of a powerful mafioso.

Liam and Jamie arrived around dessert and stayed for the drinks and vivid conversations that were now filling the room with a more humorous and happy chatter than the mafia dealings that kicked off the pleasantries.

Matt was engrossed in conversation with the Barone brothers, the smile on his face as they exchanged memories about the great Giancarlo Battaglia was very telling of his calmness.

My brother never let his guard down like that, so if he had, it could only mean he trusted Lazzaro and Lucian. The way they spoke fondly of my grandfather helped soften him, I was sure, and combined with the ever-pouring wine and whiskey, conversation was light, and the mood was bright.

Except for Vincenzo.

Well, and myself, if the frustration Max had left me in was accounted for. Yet, I knew that was exactly what he wanted – himself, permanently on my mind.

“You okay?” Matt asked, leaning closer, brow pinched just enough to say he noticed my absence earlier.

“Yeah. Fine,” I said, a smile stitched too tightly to my lips. “Just needed a moment.”

“Right.” His gaze lingered for a moment too long. I knew that look. Big brother mode activated. The one that could sniff out a lie faster than any bullshit search dog.

But before he could dig deeper, Vincenzo slid back into the conversation, laughter booming from the other end of the intimate room. Something about one of the Barone brothers blowing up a safehouse by lighting a cigar near the explosives.

Typical mafia comedy. Death with a punchline.

Still, Vincenzo’s eyes flicked to me. Cool. Calculating. A flicker of distaste that vanished as quickly as it came.

He knew.

If the start of the night had signaled a certain battle, the end leaned more to an alliance and a new forged friendship.

I was halfway through pretending to care about a story involving two bent Ferraris and a dead mayor after we’d said our goodbyes fifty times already, when I noticed both Matt and Vincenzo weren’t in our little circle by the door.

Before my mind registered their absence, it ran off to a bloodier image. If anyone had a vendetta to serve, this would be a very interesting gathering to make a hit on.

Focus Alison.

I made my way through the dimly lit restaurant, tiptoeing like I knew I wasn’t supposed to be here. My blood froze in my veins while my gut twisted from the thought of being caught, yet I couldn’t stop moving.

Then I heard them.

Shouted whispers slashing through the darkness like predators planning their next kill. While Matt’s voice was rushed and whispered to avoid being heard, Vincenzo’s held a lot more emotion in it.

It was clipped and sharp. Almost like he was desperate. That was certainly something I never thought my future husband could ever be.

“–can’t control her, then maybe you’re not ready to run this family as your grandfather thought you were.”

“Watch your mouth, Massimo. You are not at home, and may I remind you that your running skills are heavily debilitated. I said I’d handle it,” Matt bit back.

“She’s slipping, Battaglia,” Vincenzo said, his voice just a tad softer, but I could hear the hiss in his venom. “Right through your fingers and mine. That’s not a bride. That’s a liability.”

“She’s my sister,” Matt snapped. “She’s not property.”

“Isn’t she?” The words chilled me, the chuckle that followed even more. “Because she was promised to me. Promises in this world are made in blood and bone. If she won’t be mine willingly, I’ll take her however I must.”

“Did you just threaten my sister?” Matt growled, and I could hear him take a menacing step forward.

“No,” Vincenzo replied calmly, dragging out the word in mockery. “I’m threatening you.”

A beat of silence passed, dragging out for what seemed like forever. I barely breathed in fear of being caught.

“Settle. Listen. Quiet until you can feel the sounds in your chest.” Again, that same memory came to me like a whisper in my grandfather’s voice. I’d heard him say those exact words more than once, but I couldn’t figure out exactly when it happened.

Still, I trusted his mantra and did what he said.

“Two options,” Vincenzo continued, measured and cruel.

“You move the wedding up. Two weeks from today, she wears my ring and takes my name in front of every family in The Commission, plus whomever could be considered for those new seats. We squash the whispers, reclaim control. Or…” He let the pause stretch like a knife being sharpened.

“Or we wait the five months until the date we’d originally agreed on, and in the meantime…

Max dies. Quietly. Cleanly. And preferably by your hand. ”

A loud gasp threatened to leave my mouth just as I slapped my hand over it, managing to trap my horror under four digits and wild eyes.

Matt didn’t speak, his silence bringing panic straight into my bones. Dead, all-consuming silence. My blood turned to ice. I moved closer, pressing my back to the hallway wall just before the turn.

“I know he’s fucking her,” Vincenzo added. “Don’t insult me by pretending he’s not. The way he looks at her? That’s not protection. That’s devotion. He’s in love with her. And I can’t allow it.”

My knees locked. I couldn’t even shake.

“She didn’t fuck him,” Matt snapped.

“You think that matters?” A cold laugh broke through the air, and what it lacked in humor, it made up for in derangement. “She’s in love with him, too. She looks at him like he’s the second coming of Christ, and you want to wait another five fucking months?”

“I do not appreciate you trying to cage me.”

“I told you from the beginning,” Vincenzo went on, “this engagement is about legacy. About alliances and making sure my cosca thrives after I’m gone. If I have to fight her feelings to win her, I will. But I won’t fight some damn bastardo who thinks he can fuck his way into the throne.”

“You and I both know he doesn’t need to fuck his way up. He just needs to step up and take it. Is that what you’re afraid of, Vincenzo?”

Vincenzo scoffed but didn’t spew a reply. I wish he had because that was a riddle I couldn’t find a meaning to.

“You don’t get to decide who lives and dies,” Matt hissed, but there was doubt in his voice. Guilt, too.

“I do when it’s about my future wife. Pick your poison, Battaglia. A rushed wedding… or a burial. You’ve done it once, you sure as hell can do it again.”

That was it. I was done.

My fingers curled into fists, nails digging into my palm as I turned away from the conversation and walked. Fast. Like the hallway was shrinking. Like the walls were about to close in and swallow me whole.

I pulled out my phone and texted Max to meet me with the car in the alley.

Soon enough, the black SUV drove down the narrow backstreet, and I jumped in before it fully came to a stop.

Inhaling Max’s scent, I tried my best to stay calm, but he knew me too well not to see right through that weak facade I was trying to hold up.

“Take me home. Please?”

“What happened?”

“I heard them,” I said. “Matt and Vincenzo.”

Max hit the gas, full force, getting us out of there at the speed of light.

“What did they say?”

“He gave Matt two options,” I said, my throat thick with fear. “Either they move the wedding up, and I marry Vincenzo in two weeks, or they stick to the original timeline, and Matt kills you.”

Max didn’t even blink, but I felt the kick in my gut from the way he stepped heavier on the gas pedal. Other than that, no comment, no other reaction. Just a long, steady breath as Max dragged a hand down his jaw.

“They know, Max. Or they’re damn close. He knows how I look at you. He knows what we’ve done. What I feel.”

Finally, his eyes met mine. I expected rage. I expected fear. Instead, a smile covered his face. “What you feel? Say it.”

“They know I love you.”

It was as if he’d won the prize of the fucking century by the way he was smiling. Proud and happy.

“They want to kill you, and you’re smiling?”

“Let them come,” he said.

“No,” I snapped. “This isn’t bravado. This isn’t one of your shootouts in a back alley. This is Matt. My family, Max.”

“They better bring six feet of dirt and a fucking army.”

“Max–”

“No.” His hand caught mine, squeezing reassuringly, “They don’t get to touch you. They don’t get to control you. And they sure as hell don’t get to threaten you by coming after me.”

“I’m scared,” I whispered.

“I’m not.” He pulled my hand to his lips, placing a soft and reverent kiss on my knuckles. “Because I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me. Anche un fratello .” Even a brother.