Page 2 of Dark Breaker

I stop my Vespa next to the free pump beside him. I flick the parking leg into place with the steel-tipped toe of my boot and dismount my scooter.

While I’m filling up, the man looks up. Despite everything, my breath catches in my throat. He’s fucking gorgeous, with a face that would give a movie star a run for the money. He has a square, chiseled jaw, prominent nose, and cheekbones to die for. His brows are immaculately trimmed, and curly, dark hair waves at me from underneath his fedora.

When his steely gray eyes lock onto mine, I feel like a rabbit pinned beneath the gaze of a hawk. Those eyes take me in, undressing me, devouring me. I feel completely exposed beneath them, and not in a good way. I sense arrogance there, too, along with danger—like he’s trying to decide whether he wants to kiss me or kidnap me. Either way, I have the impression he’s a man who always gets what he wants.

But he’s not getting me.

I sniff and look away.

I can’t help a nagging sense of familiarity. I know him from somewhere, I’m sure of it. I just can’t place it. Maybe heisa famous actor. Or someone I’ve seen on social media. Hmm.

And then it hits me. Fabio D’Alimonte. I saw him at a party six months back. He’s mafioso. Son of the notorious Raffaele D’Alimonte. His father is currently serving six consecutive life sentences, making Fabio the official head of the family—but as far as I know, his father is still pulling the strings from behind bars.

When I sneak a peek his way once more, I discover he’s already lost interest in me, his attention completely focused on his pump.

I know what I’d like him to pump…

I dismiss the thought angrily. I remind myself of the way he looked at me. The arrogance in his eyes. Besides, I don’t want anything to do with the son of a mafia don.

I finish filling up the small tank on my Vespa, get my receipt from the automatic dispenser, then head on my way. I don’t bother to look at Fabio again.

As I drive onto the autostrada I glance in my rearview mirror and spot the white Lamborghini pulling onto the road behind me. Before I can blink, it’s already closed the distance with my Vespa.

My competitive nature starts to assert itself, and I can’t resist opening the throttle and darting ahead of him.

But once more he closes the distance. I’m getting fairly close to my top speed, or at least the maximum speed I’m willing to go, so I close the throttle and brake, letting him pass.

I glance at him and he leers at me as he pulls ahead. He floors the gas pedal and roars away.

“Go!” I mutter under breath. Though I can’t hear my own voice, not with the wind in my face.

I slow to the speed limit after he’s gone. Five minutes later I spot the white Lamborghini again, this time pulled up alongside the shoulder of the road with the flashing lights of a cop car parked behind it.

It’s my turn to smirk as I pass him. I make sure he sees. Fabio doesn’t seem too happy.

I reach Palermo, and head toward the grocery store where I usually do my shopping. I have to go once every few days, since there’s only so much food one can fit into the tiny storage compartment of a Vespa.

When I’m done, in the parking lot I see the white Lamborghini again. He parked right beside me. I can’t believe it.

When will I get rid of this guy!

The convertible top is down. Maybe it’s a different vehicle owned by someone else?

No. How often do you see the same make and model of Lamborghini around here? Not very. I mean sure, there are a lot of lambos, courtesy of the many mafia families in the area, but they pride themselves on owning rare breeds of exotics. The kind of cars that are produced in lots of twenty-five or less.

I look around nervously, wondering if he’s stalking me. If so, he’s just another in a long line of psychopaths I seem to have a penchant for attracting. Who goes grocery shopping in a lambo, after all? I don’t see him, but he could be hiding behind any of the other nearby vehicles, waiting for me.

Knowing who he is, I decide not to take any chances. I mean, I have Mace in my purse, but I’d much rather have someone I know here, just in case.

So I pull out my phone and text Luciano. He’s the only one of my brothers who’s on the mainland today. I’m not sure how far away he is from my current location, though.

Got some mafia dude following me at the grocery store.

I receive a text back almost right away.

Don’t move, I’ll be right there.

There’s only one grocery store I go to when I’m in Palermo, near the university campus, so Luciano knows precisely where I am.