Page 20 of Runaway in the Mafia (The shadows of Cosa Nostra Chronicles #3)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

AHANA

T he excitement I’d been feeling fizzled the longer he stayed behind. Lia had told me her brother rarely visited. I frowned at the man in the white button-down, rocking his chair with an unlit cigar in his hand. His glare told me he was livid. With me.

Ignoring the urge to crumble beneath him, I carried on the conversation with Romeo. I had no clue what was coming out of my mouth, but it must have made sense because the words flowed. Just like the burn from across the table.

It felt like I was performing. On stage.

Just for him, and he was the displeased audience.

I racked my brain to find a cause and came up with the most obvious one.

He was regretting stalking me and kissing me.

Well, so was I. The kissing part. Stalking was all on him.

Or he was just born like this. All fume and spark.

If only he could find another target to light up. That would be better, right?

“What’s my cognata like, Vitale?” Lia asked.

My ears pricked up. Sister-in-law? Duolingo playing up, or my ears were misleading me.

“Yeah, when’s the wedding?” Anna piped up.

“You’re getting married?”

Shit.

Someone needed to put a seal on my mouth because no one gave it permission to pop open. And why did my tone sound hurt? His gaze flashed green. His tongue came out and ran a line along his upper teeth like he found the turn of events interesting.

“She’s fucking gorgeous. I’d marry her for half her assets,” Romeo mocked.

I had a feeling ‘assets’ didn’t include her wealth.

The legs of his chair landed on the tiled floor.

He dropped a forearm, palm up on the table, and leaned forward.

The distance of three feet melted into nothing.

His long fingers were an inch away from my clasped ones.

His gaze pinned me like a drawing pin to paper.

When he spoke, it felt like it was directed at me.

Like it was a conversation in a bedroom, not in the dining room, with nine of his cousins around, even if his words were innocent. “Wouldn’t know about it.”

What was he saying?

“Yeah, right.” Romeo had his phone out, and he picked a picture and shoved it under my nose.

I’d rather not have seen it, but my gaze dropped anyway to find a, in Romeo’s words, ‘fucking gorgeous girl’.

She was fucking gorgeous. Small and petite.

A brunette with big brown eyes. Perfect for him. Really.

“She’s beautiful,” I muttered before Lia grabbed the phone.

“Sul serio, Vitale, she’s gorgeous. She’s a brunette! I love her hair.”

“I prefer it black.”

My eyes snapped up to his. He hadn’t just said that, had he?

His gaze was all fire. On me. It burned and sparked.

So inappropriately. I glanced around in panic, searching and finding no open mouths or loud gasps.

They were all five seats down, huddled over the phone.

Too distracted to have heard his insane words.

Hey Bhagwan. When my eyes hooked back to his, I found them boring into mine.

The air vibed with an underlying meaning to his words.

I prefer it black screamed like a siren in the air.

He had made it sound like… no... I shouldn’t go there.

My hands wrapped around the bannister and pulled me up. There was a need tickling inside me, one drip at a time. It was thick and dark as black oil dripping from an explosive can. Fear curdled in my chest. It was too easy to ignite. Just a flip was all it would take to burn me.

I needed to avoid this man or run. Another word armed with insinuation and I might burst into flames.

I couldn’t afford it. Didn’t have the luxury.

There was a man tracing my path. One that I’d kept away so far with VPNs and disconnection.

But this couldn’t go on. He’d already called Pāpā twice.

One day soon enough, he’d tire of his search, and the next call he made might be armed with the truth.

His version of it, but if a woman didn’t stand behind me with my truth, I could hardly expect a man to do it.

Even Pāpā, whom I loved more than myself, was still the head of the family.

Not only the head of our family, but of all his brothers, sisters and cousins.

He was the leader. People came to him to seek his advice.

Looked up to him to set an example. He couldn’t do it by approving of what I had done.

Even if he wanted to. He couldn’t. It would break him.

Break the respect he had in our society.

It took years to build up a reputation, but one bad deed, and it could burn to ashes.

He’d need to build some boundaries. Unfortunately, that would come at a personal cost for me.

I’d doubted long enough what I should do. Go back to Rajesh or hide and hope for the best. I’d chosen the second option, but was it an option or simply procrastination? Time was ticking faster than the tick-tock of the clock on the wall, and at the end of it, a verdict I didn’t want.

The hiding had a deadline. One I couldn’t see but could clearly be upended by the monster I was bound to.

In my mind, I’d buried him in the dark pit of our short marriage and the one-time fuck.

The second I’d collected enough money to hire a lawyer, I’d signed the paper to end this tragic story.

That had been the main purpose of getting the job.

But his response, or rather the lack of it, was screaming.

Of a man’s hot rage and cold revenge. Everything rested in his hands.

I had walked out, but he still held the reins to my life.

Was I willing to take the risk that Pāpā wouldn’t crumble when Delhi was shown my dirty laundry?

From the shanties to the high towers with the smooth helicopter pads.

The gossip, the shame. I could bear it, but Pāpā?

Even if he could, did I even want him to go through it?

For what? When I put his health, his reputation, against my need for a man, the balance tipped.

All for my selfish needs. What would Amara’s future look like when this came to light?

No man would want to marry into a scandalised family like ours.

Those two were the only ones I cared about.

My brothers…well, they were men in a man’s society.

Maa… Suck it up, Ahana. You must have done something to make him angry.

The question was not really if. It was when. When would he come for Pāpā if he couldn’t find me?

Why is he looking at you?

What do you mean?

You told him, didn’t you, little bitch?

What? No, Rajesh. I would never—

Shut up! What did you do? Did you show him your pussy? Ask him to stick it in? Told him I can’t?

No! Rajesh. I don’t even know who he is!

Don’t think I haven’t seen you looking at him. Fucking whore! Guess what? The only one who gets to put his hands all over you is me, and you’ll take it and shut the fuck up about it.

Please don’t! I beg you. Please. Don’t.

You need a real man. Guess what a real man does?

Nausea coiled in my stomach. My hands gripped it.

I could still feel the kick that had sent me flying.

Did it even matter anymore? His word would stand ground.

Not mine. He could tell everyone what he’d called me a thousand times.

A whore. Even with no proof and just a sleezy neighbour’s eyes on my ass, I would be branded as one.

How would it be then if I really proved him right?

One who gave in to the thick need in me.

The pull was too strong, the pulse ticking down south insistent.

He was too much. And God help me, I wanted it too bad.

My feet were bare, but my footsteps were heavy on the empty hall. I felt both silly and brave. Terrified and hopeful. My mind was far away as I pulled my key from my pocket to unlock the door and walked in. What I saw inside, though, made my heart stutter and come to a stop.

He was seated on my side of the bed, forearms on his knees, fingers clasped in between, and gaze dropped to the floor.

How the hell was I to avoid this man when he stalked me closer than my shadow?

Defeat weighed me down. I stood on the threshold. Sad. Angry. Frustrated. I could storm in and confront him. The Adonis on my bed. Who was I kidding ? I took a step back.

“Close the fucking door, Ahana.”

I really, really did not like a man telling me what to do.

So why then did I step inside and close the door behind me? To confront him, of course.

“How did you get inside my room?”

A thin, almost angry laugh escaped him. “Well, it wasn’t through a window.”

“Then how—”

“Keys, mia ammaliatrice. You know, like the little brass thing clutched in your hand.”

The wheels in my head turned. “So you got yourself a spare key, or did you just steal mine and copy it?”

His gaze picked up off the floor and found mine. Frustration rumbled underneath it. “Does it really matter?”

“No. I suppose not.” My gaze shifted to the window and the sudden gloominess outside. It matched my mood to perfection. “To think I thought you were being nice.”

“Oh, I’m being nice. This is as fucking nice as I get.”

“Really?” I bit. “What’s worse than this?”

“You have no fucking idea.” His head dropped to the floor. As if he were trying to control his reaction. “I want to turn you inside out and find what you are hiding. I am asking you nicely. What the fuck are you hiding, Ahana?”

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because I am asking. Nicely?”

I huffed out a laugh. He looked up, and his eyes were melancholic. The sound in my throat froze. My chest squeezed, and I didn’t even know why. “How about you want to?” he said softly. His tone almost vulnerable.

“No.” I can’t.

“I could help you.”

I shook my head vigorously. “There’s nothing anyone can do.”

“For fuck’s sake.” He jerked up and stood tall. He was volatile. Agitation running through him like a thunderbolt. “Tell me what the fuck you are hiding.”

I shook my head slowly.

“Who were you calling?” His hand fisted in his pockets.

What? “I wasn’t—”

“Today. In the park. On the bench.” He’d seen me?

My lips wobbled. I couldn’t fight the shock off my face.

“One last time.” He took a step, and I backed up.

He paced forward. With each slow step, a word thundered out.

“Who. Were. You. Calling?” My shoulder blades hit the wall.

He was three feet away from me. He was visibly rumbling with rage.

My entire body felt like a rush of hives had struck me. “Tell me the fuck now or—”

“Or what? You’ll hit me?”

He laughed. Bitter and short. He glanced at the window like he was trying to rein in his rage.

His jaw ticked. A vein popped on his forehead.

Clearly, he had run out. Of patience. Then he shifted and took a sudden step towards me.

I couldn’t help it. It was a reaction inbuilt.

Martina told me we don’t even realise we have it.

But once experienced, we couldn’t shed it.

I squeezed against the wall, eyes shut down, hands shielding my face, and prepared for impact.

“Jesus.”

Terror drummed in my chest. Sweat pooled down my back. I was frozen in my position. I couldn’t move. Seconds ticked by, and nothing happened. I fought through my shield to feel nothing. My eyes flickered open to find his horror-filled gaze on mine, one hand fisted in his hair.

High-strung tension filled the air. My panicked heartbeat came to a sudden stop. He looked—I couldn’t figure it out.

“You thought I was going to hit you.” His voice was raw. Ruined.

I laughed shakily. “You just startled me.” Mine cracked.

“Because I took a step forward?”

“Because you...” I swallowed. “It was just sudden,” I ended lamely.

A cluster of emotions appeared in his eyes. His stare went black. Murderous. It roared, and it raged. His voice was dangerously soft when he spoke next. Deadly. “Who the fuck hit you, Ahana?”

“No one.” Crap. That was too quick.

His hands fisted. As if he were scared of what they would do, he stuffed them in his pockets. When he spoke next, his words were laced with violent intent.

“You’d better hide his name in a hellhole. Because when I find him, and I will find him, that’s where I will send him. One fucking piece at a time.”