Page 10

T he talk he promised me never came.

It’s been almost three weeks since that night at Demos, when I thought Stefano was engaged, and he showed me in no uncertain terms there’s only one woman occupying his mind, and that woman is me.

But everything’s changed since then. Don Giacomo called him into his office, Stefano came out a little while later with lines etched on his face and the weight of the world on his shoulders, and before he left, he grabbed me and held me close in the club. The gentle kiss he deposited on my temple just about broke my heart, because I knew I was losing him in that moment.

And I have. The man I’m with now, he’s not the same one I met over a month ago. Gone is the laughter brimming inside him, the joy bubbling out of his every action, the spring in his step. Every time he kisses me goodbye now, this soft press of his lips to my hairline, it feels like a piece of him drifts away and never returns.

I know he’s been activated as the Don’s enforcer—it’s the only thing anyone at the club can talk about lately. Sandro and Dino have been hovering over me a little, making sure I’m well. Dino, especially, ensures I know Stefano is okay on a daily basis. I hardly see him anymore, and when he does come to me, it’s to drift in and out of my world, in and out of my body, and then leave with that goddamn kiss goodbye.

Sometimes, it feels like adieu, and he’s only back because he can lose himself in me. Words aren’t exchanged anymore, his hands, lips, cock doing all the talking, his mouth only delivering some dirty talk as he fucks me. He seems to find solace this way.

I don’t.

I want my lover back, my beautiful, extroverted puppy-like Stefano who talks a mile a minute while gesturing with his hands as his every expression courses over his expressive face. This other man, I don’t know who he is.

Worse, I don’t know if I can ever get my original Stefano back. What if I don’t? What if I can’t live with this shadowed, darker version?

Every time he leaves me to walk into an underworld that reeks of danger and unimaginable threats, I feel like essential breath is stolen from my lungs and I can't recover. It’s gets more painful with each goodbye kiss he presses into me.

The club is closed tonight, the one time per week all the staff get a night off. I’m not expecting a knock on my door, much less to find Dino on the landing.

“Come with me,” he says with a nod. “Boss wants to see you.”

A frown creasing my forehead, I start after him. Why would the Don come over on a night we’re closed?

“Take your handbag with you,” he adds over his shoulder.

Weirder and weirder.

I do as he bid, but take the time to change from my black yoga pants and gray tank top to a more appropriate jumpsuit. Even I have standards, and looking like a slob is perfectly fine but in the privacy of my room alone.

His request starts to make sense though I’m still frowning when I get into the car waiting on the curb, Dino riding shotgun in front. The drive isn’t overly long, yet soon, we’re not in any part of Torino I’m familiar with. This looks like a residential area, with sprawling villas behind high walls and intricate gates.

We’re rolling into one such property next. A wide gravel driveway leads to a big, L-shaped, two-story dwelling sitting in the middle of a verdant garden. When I alight from the car, I can clearly see a very long pool glimmering to the side of the house at the back.

Dino walks me around the other way. The manicured grass gives way to a path made of smooth large pebbles embedded in the earth. A row of a dozen or so steps leads to a wide terrace, from where I’m ushered into an opulent living room.

“Boss will be here soon,” Dino says before leaving.

I only nod, too awed by this magnificent interior. The décor is exquisite, like something from inside a palace, but it also looks lived in. I’ve never seen such luxury in real life, and I can’t stop from flitting all over the room to glimpse this and that.

“Hello.”

The voice makes me jump, and I whip around, still catching my breath when my gaze alights on the person standing in an opened doorway. It’s a young boy, in that awkward stage where he’s no longer a child but not yet a man, all gangly limbs and with facial features that haven’t yet decided to be more grown-up than kid-like.

“Hi,” I say.

“Sorry I startled you.”

His English is flawless, with a hint of a British accent.

“My fault,” I say with a small smile. “You must be…Giuseppe?”

He’s not the spitting image of his father, but the resemblance is there, in the wide jaw and square chin.

He nods. “What’s your name?”

“Kaya.”

“Wanna play a game?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

He turns toward the hallway, and I follow, wondering what he’s getting at. I needn’t have worried, because the next room has a massive TV screen hooked up to a PlayStation console.

“What are we playing?”

He hands me a game controller. “ Tekken .”

We choose our avatars, and I end up winning.

Giuseppe sighs out his frustration. “You weren’t supposed to know how to fight!”

I can feel no malice behind his words, though, and I laugh. “Dude, I grew up playing these games at the arcade.”

“Not fair,” he mutters.

A laugh comes from the doorway. “Never underestimate a woman, Giuseppe.”

I’ve never seen Don Giacomo in anything but a suit. In his home, he’s wearing a collared blue polo shirt, tailored pants, and soft brown leather house shoes on his feet. He looks relaxed and even younger like this, though the quiet strength in him is still palpable.

“Aren’t you going to be late to Amelia’s birthday party?” he asks his son.

Giuseppe jumps to his feet. “Better run.” He’s already up and racing, then stops and turns my way. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Kaya.” Then he’s off and brushing past his father.

“Don’t forget to take the gift with you,” the Don calls after him.

A reply flies from somewhere inside the house.

He shakes his head as his gaze lands on me. “Children.”

I smile. “He seems like a great kid. So well-mannered.”

“ Grazie .”

I get up and face him. “You wanted to see me, Don Giacomo?”

“Let’s go outside. It’s such a beautiful evening.”

He leads me to a terrace at the side. The pool is right there a few steps below, and it is indeed as long as the house is deep. After making sure I’m seated comfortably at the small wrought-iron table, he sits down with a sigh.

“I know in doing this, I run the risk of losing you entirely,” he starts.

My eyebrows raise quizzically.

“ Cara , I’m not someone to cross, but I can honestly say I am fair. As such…” He picks up a small tablet lying on the table and activates the screen before handing it to me.

“What is it?”

“Choose a password, one you won’t forget.”

I glance at him then back at the screen. Still having no clue what’s going on, I type in a sequence of letters and numbers I’ll be sure to remember, confirm the password again, then the screen takes me to—

A gasp escapes me. “What the hell?”

“It’s an account I had opened for you,” the Don says. “It’s offshore, so accessible from anywhere in the world. You just need a secure login from a computer.”

I blink, though nothing changes. “Okay, but… What…”

“It’s your due.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, looking up at him.

“Stefano hasn’t been around for you much these last few weeks, and it’s partly my fault, though this is also one of the reasons. You see, there is a woman the likes you helped when you first arrived who came to my men and told them of an underground operation happening on my territory. Stefano and his men have been dismantling it, and like I said, I’m a fair man. This wouldn’t have happened were it not for you, and this is your share.”

Is he for real? If this is only a slice of the pie, what was the whole like? The amount staring at me has almost six figures. Six fucking figures!

“I…I don’t know what to say.” Dazed, I can only shake my head.

He smiles softly. “Say you’ll stay. Even though I suspect you won’t.”

Despite Stefano being here. He doesn’t add this, but he didn’t need to. I heard it.

I can’t is what I want to reply, because this Stefano isn’t the man I had fallen in love with.

I'm not naive. I knew he would change once becoming the Don's enforcer. I just didn't realize the change would break my heart as I lost the man I had originally grown to love. And this cultured beautiful city of Turino, it’s just full of sadness for me now, evoking painful memories everywhere I look, redolent of loss.

The more I stay, the more I’ll lose whatever wisp of my heart still remains. To lose more of Stefano with each passing day, and feel each painful loss in a long drawn out process — I won’t be able to survive that. Better to cut it off early. Love is a bitch, and she’s not going to win this time. I’m taking the reins.

I have no reason to remain in Torino anymore. With the kind of money Don Giacomo has given me, I can leave on the next flight out and never look back. I can nurse what’s left of me somewhere far away.

“ Cara , what’s waiting for you there?” he asks.

I'm silent for a few seconds as I think hard about his question. Nothing is really waiting for me back in the States. But I don't tell him that. "It's still my home. I was never supposed to stay here." The US is such a vast country, I’ll be able to find a place for me there to lick my wounds in quiet and solitude. I may even head out to Hawaii, a whole new beginning.

My father is also still there, though he isn’t one of my favorite persons anymore. He can’t know I was handed off to a prostitution ring, but he knew what sort of people he was sending me with. He never came looking for me. With what money? Everything he earns, he sinks into his gambling addiction.

“I don’t want you to leave, Kaya. And I know Stefano would want you to stay. But I won’t stop you if that's what you really want. However, you must know this. Once you step foot off Italian soil, you won’t be able to come back.”

Money’s not an issue now, but then again, why would I want to come back here? To witness how much of a shell Stefano has turned into? I’d rather die than see this sight that will leave an indelible mark on my soul. No, I’m not doing this. Self-preservation is what kept me going when I found I would now be in servitude to a man who held my whole life in his hands until I’d paid my father’s debt. It will keep me going now. I have to cling to it because there’s nothing else.

“You came here on a tourist visa, valid for three months.”

And I’ve stayed for a year now. All this time, I was here clandestinely. Italian law doesn’t take kindly to such pranks. Once the page is turned, this part of the book will be over and done with.

While I don’t want it to end, I have to face the facts—it’s already ended. Stefano is Don Rossi’s enforcer, and there’s no place for me in his life now, nor is there for a man like that in mine. The young man I love, he’s gone.

Yes, self-preservation is talking now. I better listen to it.

“I’m sorry, I can't stay.” I shake my head.

The Don stares at me for long seconds. “ Va bene . Stay at least for dinner, before you start making plans?”

Almost three hours later, after an elegant meal prepared by Don Giacomo's chef, Dino drops me back at the club. I’ve been in a sort of daze all this time, half of me here and the other already on US soil, planning for a future I couldn’t even fathom earlier today.

This money, it’ll open so many doors. I don't even have to go back to Portland as I'd originally planned. By gifting me with this huge sum of money, the Don gave me freedom to pick any place to create a new life for myself. I know the money won’t last long in expensive cities like New York or LA. But some sleepy little town on the coast of Florida or Washington, I can see myself there. Rent wouldn’t be exorbitant, and I could find a job in a local shop or restaurant. Maybe even go to college and get a degree.

Fantasies are running in my head when I open the door of my studio and step inside the dark living area.

“Where the fuck have you been?” The voice growled at me as soon as I closed my front door.

I yelp as much in surprise as from the jolt of the big body pinning me to the door now.

“Stefano,” I gasp. “What are you doing here?”

“Where have you been, Kaya? I was out of my mind…”

When he grabs my wrists and pulls me along towards my bed, I steel myself and try to push him away. What is wrong with him? He’s acting like a possessive primate right now, and that shit doesn’t fly with me. He could’ve called…but then I notice I left my phone here, still charging on the bedside table.

“Don Giacomo asked me to dinner.”

He freezes. “What? Where?”

“At his house, dumbass.”

He lets me go so abruptly, I stagger and hold on to the wall next to the bed to prevent myself from falling. Pacing, he runs a hand through his hair, leaving the long locks all disheveled.

“You went to his house." He shakes his head, as if trying to get his mind around it. Then he stares hard at me. "You weren’t answering your phone!”

“I know, I didn't realize I left it charging."

“You need to keep it with you at all times. I was worried, Kaya!”

“Why? I’m here all the time, and Sandro is downstairs, not to mention the crew who meets here to play poker every week when the club is closed. What did you think could happen?”

He sighs. “Kaya, you don’t know what—”

The way he bites the words at the end sends my radar haywire.

“What are you not telling me?”

He exhales a long breath. “I’ve been doing everything to keep you safe.”

“From what?” An absurd thought crosses my mind. “From the Don?”

Something flickers over his face—the only light is coming from the lamp outside on the street, so I can’t catch the expression fully. But I can’t shake the notion he’s worried about something regarding Don Giacomo.

“Kaya, I can’t…” The breath heaves out of him so raggedly. “I can’t lose you. I can’t. I won’t.”

What does he mean by this? The vehemence in his tone, it almost sounded like desperation. But I could just be imagining this.

But I have no way of asking another question because he’s on me and his hands are clasping my face and his lips are claiming my mouth, his tongue slipping in to seek mine, to taste me like only he’s allowed to, to claim me the way only he can. The fire of his desire is like an inferno roaring onto the dry brush of my existence, lighting me with a single spark. I kiss him back, so hungry for him, overcome with the need to immerse myself in his fire and passion. It’s all the cue he needs.

His hands are removing my clothes, his fingers seeking my nipples, my core, his lips trailing down my neck through the valley of my breasts and across my belly. He pushes me flat on my back onto the bed and kneels between my legs, his mouth devouring my wet dripping sex, where he coaxes more moisture and tightening need from my very being.

I groan and thrash my head back and forth, grabbing his hair in my hands, desperate in my pleasure and need for him to push me over the edge.

But just as I’m about to come, he pulls away, flips me over onto my knees and presses my chest into the bed, with my arms sprawled out on either side of me. My thighs are splayed out so that my knees are the only things holding my hips up, displaying my dripping pussy in perfect eyeview.

I look back at him over my shoulder and watch as he grips his large steely cock, lines it up and shoves into me, pounding me over and over in a relentless rhythm that takes my breath away. I'm barely able to hang on to consciousness as he claims my body and mind with overwhelming force. Soon I'm screaming into the comforter under my head and just when I think I'm going to pass out, he rips an orgasm from me, and spills his cum inside my channel.

As I start to recover, close my legs, and feel his fluids coating my inner thighs, I can't help but feel bereft. Like my body is played like an instrument but my soul is left on the sidelines, the satisfaction only physical, a tension being released all while the knot inside my being tightens some more.

This , I think as I look over to see him lying on his back, his forearm slung across his eyes. There’s no gentle caress, no soft kiss, no smile or laughter. There’s no communion anymore, and it’s killing me.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I whisper.

He doesn’t even hear me.

“Stefano?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m leaving.”

This seems to catch his attention, because he rears up and jumps from the bed. Why am I not surprised to find he’s still almost fully clothed? Used is what I’m feeling like, and it’s funny how I never felt this way when my job was literally to be used by men for sex. Because this isn’t a job. I thought it was more, but no. It wasn’t. I’m not even sure what it is anymore.

“You’re going back to the Don.” He stares at me with hard-appearing eyes.

“What?” I sit up and stare at him. “No!”

Is that a sigh of relief coming from his heaving chest?

“Then why, Kaya?”

I thought anger would get the best of me when we had this conversation, but that has deserted me. In its place is just sadness, and loss, too.

“Look at us, Stefano.”

“I’m doing just that, Kaya. All this, it’s for us. For you.”

“I don't understand. I didn’t ask for all this.”

“No, but it’s my job. I have to protect you.”

Something in the way he says this swirls more confusion in my mind . “Protect me? From what?”

He throws his hands up. “From everything. All this.”

“All what?”

Stefano stops pacing and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know what? This is leading us nowhere.”

“Exactly.”

It’s strange how this one word, devoid of any fire, places such a termination on anything it’s punctuating.

“Kaya.” There’s an undeniable note of warning in his tone.

But my mind is made up. I can’t do this.

“I’m booking the next flight out of Torino in the morning.”

“What? No. You can’t.”

What will I say to that?

“I won’t let you.”

It’s not your place to decide. But again, I don’t say a word.

“Let’s talk about this,” he continues. “We can talk—”

“Like you’ve been promising me we’ll do ever since the night you went out for the first time as the Don’s enforcer? It's been over two weeks already.”

Guess I can’t keep my fire in for too long. It always ends up winning. How long will I keep on waiting? How much longer can I keep myself together and not drift away into nothingness because I lose a part of me now every time I’m with him?

Sighing, he runs a hand over his face.

“Kaya, I—”

We’re interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. I know this tone, since I’ve heard it a few times now. That’s his mother calling, and as a good son, Stefano can’t not answer.

“Go on,” I clip out.

“Kaya…”

I swallow softly and turn my face away.

On a heavy sigh, he answers.

The silence feels pregnant, ominous, and it’s broken by just one exclamation.

“ Dio santo ,” Stefano says softly.

He doesn’t add anything else, his face looking haunted when he turns to me again.

Something’s not right, and I scramble to my feet to reach him and clasp his cheek. I’ve never seen him so pale.

“Stefano? What is it?”

He blinks. “It’s Valentino. His father has been murdered.”