Page 13

CHAPTER 13

L ea

I’m falling.

And I’m falling hard.

Common sense has gone out the window. It fluttered away and I’m not sure I’ll ever see it again. I practically begged for a kiss, even before I agreed to let him spank me—before I agreed to let him taste me, if I enjoy it. And I know I’m going to enjoy it, especially if it isn’t a punishment like last night. Which means I’ve given Massimo’s lips free rein. He can taste me anywhere .

I squirm as I think about it, watching as Massimo loads everything back into the basket. I had more wine than he did, and I’m a lightweight, so I’m feeling it. A pleasant buzz that makes the world feel more vibrant and alive. That makes my inhibitions not seem so… inhibiting. But it’s only a taste, right? I’m not agreeing to anything more than that—unless I beg for it. I won’t let it go that far. I can’t.

“Alright, let’s get a move on it,” Massimo snarls, picking up the basket and motioning for me to follow him.

“Eager to get me back to the resort?” I tease, feeling flutters and tingles in places I didn’t realize could flutter or tingle.

Massimo doesn’t respond. He just grunts and hikes his way up the hill with me trailing behind him. I have an excellent view of his broad shoulders and muscular back pressing against his t-shirt. A great view of his ass in a pair of tight-fitting jeans. I raise my hand, hesitate, and grin. I shouldn’t do this, but turnabout is fair play. As soon as he gets to the top of the hill, I slap his ass and giggle.

“What the fuck?” he challenges, spinning around and leveling a stern gaze at me.

“Now we’re even,” I chime, unable to stop giggling.

“Get your ass over here,” he growls, snatching my arm so quickly I lose my balance, but he holds me in place. “These don’t count, so I don’t care if you enjoy them.”

Massimo forcibly turns me around and starts slapping my ass. Hard. I kick my feet and dance on my toes as the stinging slaps land on the seat of my jeans.

“Hey! Stop! That’s not fair!” I protest, still giggling.

“Naughty bambina ,” he scolds, but there’s some playfulness to it.

Massimo only gives me around a dozen stinging slaps before stopping. It’s enough to make my giggles trail off and force a couple of whimpers toward the end. As soon as he lets go, I move away from him.

“Okay, okay! I won’t smack your ass,” I sigh, rubbing my bottom through my jeans and doing my best to pout. “Meanie.”

“You’re adorable, but I don’t like being hit,” he says. “Even playfully.”

“Got it,” I mutter.

Massimo starts down the hill and I follow. I mock him silently, mouthing you’re adorable, but I don’t like being hit while mimicking his expression. It’s enough to make the giggles return until Massimo stops and I nearly run right into his powerful frame.

“Stay behind me,” he growls.

“What? Why?” I peek around him and my eyes get wide. “Oh!”

The Jeep is where we left it, but all the doors are open, and there are several men surrounding it. One of them is holding Massimo’s shotgun and several others are playing with his knives. The men appear to be locals, with the same olive complexion I’ve seen around the resort.

Massimo slows down and puts a hand behind him, keeping it on my hip in a protective gesture. I appreciate it this time, but my heart still starts beating hard as we get closer. I’m not sure if we’re in danger, or if he’s just being overly cautious. Either way, I’m not excited about approaching a group of armed men. I’m glad I have an enormous meat shield in front of me that I can hide behind.

One of the men says something in a language I don’t recognize. The dialect is similar to the accent most of the workers at the resort have, so it seems to confirm they are locals. I peek around Massimo and see the one with the shotgun step forward.

“English? Italiano ? Gaeilge ?” Massimo asks. I assume he’s running through the languages he knows. I’m not sure what the last option he offers is.

“Basket. Now.” the man responds in broken-sounding English, pumping the shotgun and making me flinch. “And the girl.”

Massimo stiffens and I cower behind him. And the girl? Oh, no. I don’t like the sound of that.

“I’ll give you the basket and you can keep everything else. I’ll even give you my wallet,” Massimo offers. “But the girl stays with me.”

The man with the shotgun takes a step forward. Massimo takes a step back and I nearly get shoved down, but he holds me steady. When he lets go, fear twists my stomach into a knot. Several of the other men advance on us, a few brandishing knives, and not just the ones from the Jeep.

Suddenly, my meat shield is gone. Massimo drops the basket, lunges forward, and drives his fist into the throat of the man holding the shotgun. Except Massimo’s hand isn’t empty. He’s got the corkscrew from our wine tucked in his palm and I see blood splatter as it rips through the skin. The man screams and Massimo disarms him, flipping the shotgun around and backtracking to me. I tremble and cling to the back of his shirt, moving with him as he keeps distance between us and the men holding knives.

I close my eyes and hear gurgling. The last gasps of a dying man. Tears well up behind my eyelids and I pray this isn’t about to get worse.

“Cover your ears,” Massimo grunts. “Do it, now!”

Worse. Much worse.

I open my eyes, and when Massimo raises the shotgun, I let go of him and cover my ears with both hands. I squeeze my eyes closed like that is going to help, too, and cower against his back. A muffled boom that sounds like an explosion echoes and I feel the recoil vibrate Massimo’s massive frame. I brace myself, waiting for more shots, but when they don’t come, I peek out of one eye and see the shotgun lowered. I lean around Massimo and see the men running toward the edge of the forest to our left. Except for one. His lifeless eyes and the limp hand clutching the corkscrew in his throat makes my stomach churn.

“I knew I should have put my Glock in the basket,” Massimo sighs, walking to the back of the Jeep and tossing the shotgun in. “Help me gather everything up. I don’t want to be standing around if they decide to come back with friends.”

“Yeah,” I agree, feeling a bit queasy as I pick up a few things. “Did you shoot one of them?”

“No, I just fired a warning shot,” he growls. “They’re locals. Probably in a gang. They rob tourists sometimes, but they’re usually harmless.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “For not letting them take me.”

“You’re always safe with me, bambina ,” he says, kicking the dead body out of the way before yanking my door open.

My nose wrinkles and I gag as I step over the blood. Massimo hoists me up and puts me in the Jeep, making sure my sneakers never touch the ground where the man fell. I’m grateful for it, even if getting some blood on my shoes would have been the least of my worries if he wasn’t here. Not that I would have come here alone. I’m glad I got to see the ruins and statues, but I’m okay if this is my only excursion during this trip. Being safely locked away in Massimo’s penthouse suite seems like a much better option.

“You alright?” Massimo asks as he gets into the Jeep and slams the door.

“Yeah,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “I’ve just never seen anyone die before. It happened so fast.”

“Just relax and breathe,” he instructs, then he starts the Jeep and pulls away, leaving the dead body on the ground. Once we are far enough away not to see the statues, Massimo pulls out his phone and dials a number. “Theo. I need a couple of your guys to take care of something for me. Yeah, near the statues. It’s a local, don’t worry. He tried to rob me.”

I can’t hear the other side of the conversation, nor do I want to. Massimo killed someone right in front of me. But it was to protect me from whatever those men would have done, if they got their hands on me. I don’t even want to think about that.

I turn and look out the window once Massimo ends the call. I don’t feel as traumatized as I would expect to feel after something like that. It’s an odd feeling, really. Like justice has been carried out and the problem is over, yet there is lingering sadness that someone had to lose their life. Massimo is driving us back to the resort like nothing happened. He can get rid of a dead body with a phone call. That’s scary, but also a little—impressive? The way he handled himself certainly was. The way he protected me.

“I remember the first time I watched someone die,” Massimo sighs, reaching over and squeezing my hand. “It gets easier, but I hope you never have to find that out.”

“Me either,” I say, my fingers tracing a speck of blood near his fingernail. “How old were you? When that happened?”

“I was eight years old. My brothers were younger, but they were there too,” he says. “Our father wanted us to see what happens to traitors. One of our guys was talking to the cops. It wasn’t a pretty sight.”

“Damn, Massimo. You were a kid.” My eyes get wide. “The only thing I was worried about when I was that age was if my grandmother was going to bake my favorite cookies.”

“You don’t get to choose what you’re born into,” he shrugs, shaking his head.

“And I guess you can’t escape it either?” I ask. “You and your brothers were basically forced into it?”

“No, I chose to follow in my father’s footsteps. I don’t get a pass for everything because I was born into it.” Massimo squeezes my hand again. “Maybe I should have done what Leo did and became a priest.”

“Leo is one of your brothers?” I question.

“Yeah, there’s three of us. Well, four if you count the bastard, but my father never does,” Massimo answers. “My mom just pretends he doesn’t exist.”

“Are you close with Leo… or the bastard?” I tilt my head inquisitively, still absently tracing his fingers.

“I’m close with all of my brothers,” Massimo grunts. “Even Emilio. Or I thought I was. I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

“Me either,” I say, but my response is referencing more than just family ties.

Massimo is the kind of man I should run away from. Far, far away.

But I just keep getting closer. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. But he’s so much more than a criminal. So much more than just a Mafia guy. There’s a good person under this ink. Not in the conventional sense, but there’s goodness in him. He’s capable of love. Soul-crushing love that left him broken. And he’s willing to die, rather than start a civil war with his family.

“I don’t think I want to leave the resort again until the boat gets here at the end of the week,” I mutter as we pass through the gates.

“You sure about that?” he asks. “I’ve got another excursion planned for you tomorrow.”

“Wait, what?” I raise a brow.

“Well, I had the guy who brought your bags find out which excursions you booked. You wanted to go swimming with the dolphins,” he says. “That’s a little boring, so tomorrow, we’re going swimming with the sharks.”

“Uh, Massimo, no.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to go swimming with the sharks! Plus, I got sick the last time I was on a boat, and I was planning on canceling that one.”

“You’ll be in a cage the entire time you’re underwater,” he says. “It’s completely safe. I’ll get motion sickness patches for you. They work. You’ll be fine.”

I mutter a few things under my breath and say a silent prayer that the motion sickness patches will work. But swimming with the sharks? I’m already doing that. I’ve been doing that since I got sick on the boat.

Swimming with one shark, at least.

Massimo is more dangerous than anything in the water.