Page 32 of Caruso (Vegas Mafia #3)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Tommaso

T oday is a necessary evil. Taylor is becoming too important to my brothers, and it ends now. I hate that I’m attracted to her. That my eyes follow her when she’s in the room, my heart pounding, my pulse spiking, imagining her beneath me, on top of me—controlling me.

I can’t let that happen. It would divide us, ruin us, break us.

Matteo discovered where Jason was living, and our trip was a fruitful one despite what we told Giorgio.

I hate keeping things from my brother, but if he knew where I was heading with his latest obsession, he would elect to accompany us.

Matteo believes it’s bringing her closure so she can break the chains from her past.

He can believe what he wants; it suits my agenda. Mine, as it happens, is very different.

I glance in the mirror as I adjust my black silk tie. It is always black. I am in mourning, and that will never change.

I head to the living room, where I had arranged to meet Taylor. Breakfast is already laid on the table, and I take my usual seat and pour the coffee, black, of course.

I sip the hot liquid, my eyes scanning the clouds outside. I wish they were dark ones.

They always are in my mind.

“Tommaso.” Her hesitant voice drags my attention away from the sky, and she stands nervously watching me, dressed in black pants with sneakers, a thin black top exposing her midriff.

She looks young, too young for us. A mere girl pretending to be a woman. She will not be mine.

I regard her black hair tinged with blue. The huge gray eyes that reveal her soul, empty, yet hopeful. She’s a fool. There is no hope.

What is hope anyway?

“I wasn’t sure where we were going, so if you need me to change, I will.”

Her concern is strangely endearing, and I nod toward her usual chair.

“You are dressed appropriately. Now eat.”

She is almost apologetic as she gingerly takes the seat at one end of the table, opposite Matteo’s usual one and beside Giorgio.

I sit between Giorgio and Matteo. I used to sit where she is now.

Once again, this is a change I am not happy about.

It has been the three of us since we came here.

For too many years now, and it’s setting me on edge knowing there are four of us now .

There always was.

She helps herself to coffee and a croissant, and I snap, “You will eat a good breakfast. I have ordered poached eggs, smoked salmon on rye and granola.”

“For me?” Her huge eyes widen even further, and I nod, pushing a glass of orange juice her way.

“Drink that.”

“I prefer water.”

“It wasn’t a choice.”

Her mouth drops open, and I snap, “You require vitamins that you won’t get in water. A balanced diet is necessary for your health.”

She says nothing and merely lifts the glass, sipping the juice on command, which, as it happens, is a direct line to my cock.

I get off on control, dominance and commands. It’s my way or no way, and I will not be challenged.

I don’t say much, but when I do, I expect to be heard. There is weight in my words, and I will not make an exception for her.

We eat in silence. Our food is delivered as expected, and soon we are ready to go.

“We leave in ten minutes. Go and clean your teeth and brush your hair. A light jacket will be enough; you will not be requiring your purse.”

She says nothing, but the fury shining in her eyes amuses me. She hates this, which will make my mission more successful.

As I head to my room I do the same as I instructed her and glance at my reflection and smirk.

I wonder what the day will bring? It will be an interesting one for sure.

Ten minutes to the second, I head back to the living room to find her waiting, wearing a light jacket, her hair tied behind in a ponytail, her hands in her pockets.

She resembles a scowling teenager, which reminds me how unsuitable she is for us, and yet the gleam in her eye, accompanied by the challenge in them, causes my heart to race just a little faster.

I have long imagined her naked. That powerful body destroying me in seconds.

She may be small, vulnerable even, but she has an inner strength I try not to admire.

There is something about Taylor; I’ll give her that, and when I see my brothers with their hands on her, jealously sparks against my will.

She is a silent force in the room, the planet we all orbit, and I hate how weak that makes me, foolish even.

“Come, the car is waiting.”

I stride from the room expecting her to keep up, and as she scurries behind me, my mind switches to the job at hand.

Jason Evans is a surprising one. From what Taylor has said about him, I expected something else entirely.

I wonder if it’s the man she sees through her rose-colored spectacles. If it’s the right man at all.

We ride the elevator in silence. She leans against the side of it, her hard stare unnerving. I don’t react. She shouldn’t be here anyway, but being so close in such a confined space is messing with my mind.

I could take her. They all expect me to. She does too, but then I would reveal my weakness. I would fail—in my mind, anyway.

Taylor will not be the ruin of me. I won’t allow it, and as the elevator opens into the lobby, I exit without a glance in her direction.

We move through the packed lobby where guests mingle with our staff, apparently fascinated by the show. As we left the elevator, my guards settled in around us, so we move as a pack.

Always a pack.

I like to make statements. Giorgio prefers to walk alone, prowling among the people as one of them.

Taking great delight in any challenge, clearing his own path with his fists rather than hired muscle.

Matteo sits between us, preferring his privacy with a few discreet guards set back, not crowding his space.

I like to make huge statements wherever I go.

Don’t mess with me or you’ll regret it—big time.

We sweep out of The Artemis into the waiting car, entirely black with blacked-out windows. There are three cars: one in the front, one in the middle and one bringing up the rear. As I said, I like to make a statement.

Despite what we tried to distance ourselves from, we are still mafia. Vegas mafia and my brothers may choose to dull that sparkle, but I polish it with relish.

Taylor sits beside me, and as soon as the car moves off, she says tentatively, “Where are we going?”

“To visit a friend.”

“Mine or yours?”

I admire her perception because we all know Taylor doesn’t have any friends. She’s only had one in her life—had being the operative word.

“I believe we have located your friend Jason.”

I drop the bomb, and it has the desired effect.

“Jason!” She is shocked, and her voice trembles as she whispers, “Are you sure it’s him?”

“No, which is why you are here, to identify him.”

I’m shocked when her hand reaches out and grasps my arm as she gulps, “Is he dead?”

“Not yet.”

I’m not sure why I said that; he is very much living and breathing, and I put it down as a mere slip of an unguarded tongue.

“Yet? Is he being held hostage, even a prisoner?”

“In a way.”

I chuckle, and Taylor’s voice rises.

“For fuck’s sake, Tommaso, tell me and stop messing with my mind.”

The air stills in the car as I turn my head slowly, her hand dropping from my arm as she slides further away from me.

“What did you say?”

The words come out dark, threatening even, and my eyes flash as I stare into hers with a hard expression, my jaw tight and furious.

“I’m sorry.” She swallows hard. “I didn’t mean to snap; it’s just, well, a lot, you know. ”

“Snap?” I lean closer, pinning her to her seat with an angry frown. “It wasn’t your request, it was the fact you raised your voice in anger and lost control.”

“I don’t understand.”

She is trying so hard to remain defiant, but I can tell I intimidate her. It’s what I’m good at, giving me a certain satisfaction as she cowers in the corner.

“Do not reveal any weakness at any time in public. You speak as if you have that right, and people will listen. When you raise your voice, it reveals that you have lost control and gives your enemies an insight into how to bring you down. Don’t do it again.”

She blinks and stares at me with astonishment.

Her mouth drops, and she swallows hard. I turn away because the temptation is strong to take her into my arms and punish her in a far crueler way.

Taylor would be the perfect submissive for me because it would be against everything she has styled herself into so far.

She is strong, powerful even, in many ways, but there is a yearning inside her for someone else to take charge.

To take her problems away and make her decisions for her.

She will view that as a weakness, but it will be her strength.

If only we had the time for that, it might be an interesting project.

Instead, I return my attention to my phone, leaving her to wonder what the hell she has gotten into, and as the car heads for the Palazzo, I’m almost regretting bringing her here.