Page 36 of Runaway in the Mafia (The shadows of Cosa Nostra Chronicles #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

VITALE

T he paper weight was smooth, light, and cold in my palm. A paradox to the thoughts in my head. Across my desk, Andrea caught my distraction. A stranger in my fucking home. An unlit cigar between his lips. Cold observation in his eyes. He felt my agitation. My scowl did nothing to contradict him.

I was an idiot. A moron for letting a woman control my thoughts.

But I couldn’t help it as much as a trigger finger itching to shoot a traitor.

I wanted what I wanted, and what I wanted was not the name of the girl written in the document between us.

I was as aware of it as the burning glare from across the room where Antonio was seated, with his hip resting on the windowsill.

“I’ve been thinking about this arrangement we want.” Andrea’s tone was cold. Calculated. “I’m sure it’s been on your mind too.”

Not really. Other things on my mind. Like the scent of seduction. The memory of silk fisted in my hand. Smooth velvet underneath my calloused palm.

“I think both parties are in need of this.”

I didn’t. What I needed was to pin her to a bed, didn’t matter where, when, or how.

I might have also needed a cage. But I doubted metal bars could keep me away from her now that I’d tasted her.

Sunk into her. She was an addiction. One that had been sneaking into my body drip by drip.

But now that it was roaring inside, I couldn’t get it out of me if I tried. If I tried.

“Don’t you agree?”

I was already annoyed at having spent the night questioning and icing off the Albanians found lurking around my warehouse in Palermo. Andrea’s demand to meet was only notching it up, like a jackhammer to a scale.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Andrea’s grey gaze was too sharp.

I did something I’d never done before. I avoided eye contact and shifted my gaze to Antonio’s.

Instant regret filled me. He was watching me like I was an escaped lunatic and he was deciding whether to bring me in or kill me himself.

His eyes flashed. I glared. Fucking Andrea wouldn’t be a prick if Antonio had handed in the documents I’d already signed.

Which, for some reason, he ignored, and I hadn’t bothered to remind him.

“Huh.” My gaze swung back to the man across from the table. “I missed that.”

“My daughter’s name.”

“What about it?”

“What is it?”

My patience snapped. “What is this? Twenty fucking questions? You need this,” I gestured to the paper in between us, “As much as we do. So let’s sign the damn thing and get on with it.”

I lunged for the pen on the table, and his fist clamped around it. “My daughter is not a damn thing.”

I gritted my teeth. “I’m aware.”

“I’m not sure you are.”

Next to me, my phone vibrated. When Mamma’s name appeared on the display, I knew it was bad news. I could count on one hand the number of times she’d called me. From the corner of my eye, I caught Antonio shaking his head, but I was already reaching for it.

“You better not fucking answer it.”

I ignored Andrea’s warning.

“Vitale.” Mamma’s sobbing made an icy chill run along my spine. My lungs tightened, and I knew it before she said it.“She’s gone.”

It was pathetic that I didn't even have to ask who. It didn’t occur to me that I had come to my feet until the sound of the chair crashing resonated in my scrambled brain. She ran. She fucking ran.

I forced my voice out of a mouth that had gone parchment dry. “When?”

“Two hours ago. She went to the supermarket with Giuseppe and never came back. I think she… she—”

“Enough,” I snapped. “I’m on my way.”

I cut the line and dropped my balled fists on the table.

We’d fucked. Every breath I took reminded me of her pussy clenching on my cock.

I couldn’t even sleep without dreaming of her.

When I was awake, she was my fucking nightmare.

But she just walked out? Mamma was fucking lying. I didn’t believe this shit.

“What?” I snarled at the dick reclined across from me.

“You always pick up when a woman calls?”

“I’d move heaven and earth for the women in my life.”

“Good.” He nodded with approval. “I’d expect that treatment for my daughter.”

I picked up my keys. “You shouldn’t.”

“Why is that?”

“Because she’s not my wife.” I strode to the door.

“Not—”

I turned to glare at him. “Not ever. The deal is off.”

I barrelled down the hallway to his yell. “You’ll regret this.”

I gave him my finger. I’d regret it more if I let that fucking woman get away from me. Somehow, I was pinning her down to me. She could do it willingly or not. I didn’t care anymore. She was fucking mine.

I left Antonio to deal with the shit show, as he always did.

I didn’t care if he promised my firstborn to him to get out of it.

Even if I felt that this was some weird trick of Mamma’s to get me to do something she wanted, even if I thought she was just going to be home working on one of her pretty little drawings, there was a one per cent chance that it wasn’t a lie.

That was the per cent that made me hit the floor and come crashing down the driveway with smoke blasting off my engine.

I wasn’t even out of the car before the door flew open, and Lia stood behind it. I barrelled past her brimming red eyes and took the stairs three at a time.

It was a lie. Thank fuck.

Her room was just the way it was. Perfectly clean.

Filled with her things. Her laptop was on the table, lined up with the mouse and keyboard.

Her scent still hovered in the room. In the bathroom.

Inside the cupboard. It was all a fucking joke.

Relief slipped into my racing heart. She wasn’t gone.

I pulled the closet door open, and her weekender stared back at me.

Half filled, hastily packed and left behind.

It wasn’t a lie. Something vile staggered up my throat.

“Fuck.”

She’d fucking run. My heart cracked. Rage exploded in my veins. My fists slammed into the cupboard. It shook against the wall, the wood creaking on its hinges. My knuckles bruised. Skin burst and blood spilled. It should have hurt. I couldn’t feel it.

I shook with anger while pacing the room with my hands in my hair. Heart beating to a tribal drumbeat.

“Please find her.” Mamma clouded my peripheral vision.

She was devastated. I didn’t have it in me to comfort her.

Another surge of anger hit me. It was all her fucking fault.

She should never have brought her into our home.

If I hadn’t met her... if I hadn’t fucked her.

.. “Bloody fucking hell.” I stormed to the open closet door, heaved it off its hinges, and slammed it on the floor.

The crash echoed off the tiled floors, the ringing reverberating around the room.

I glared at Lia’s horror-filled eyes at Mamma’s.

“Who the fuck is she running from?”

“She needs protection.”

“Yeah?” I growled. “From whom?”

She met my gaze, saw my rage, and shook her head wordlessly. I lost it.

“Who the fuck is she running from?”

I gave her one second to think. Took a deep inhale. And an exhale.

“Who?” I asked her one more time. She saw the crazy in my eyes, but she still didn’t open her fucking mouth. Instead of calm sanity, marbles jiggled in my brain. I barrelled towards her.

“Vitale,” Lia screamed. But it sounded like she was three rooms away because my pulse beat rushed in my eardrums. Mamma blinked, and I crowded her against the door.

This was it. The single moment I realised I was exactly like my father. I had an addiction. One that was far worse than any drug. And I’d do anything to have it. Break a deal and cause a war. Maybe… my hand trembled on the wall next to Mamma… even terrify my own mother.

I expected her to see me as I was. The monster. The replica of her husband. But it wasn’t fear I saw in her eyes. It was pain. Frustration.

“I know you care for her, but it’s not my secret to tell.”

I only realised I’d hit the wall when Lia screamed behind me. There was a punched-out hole in it, and cracked plaster crumbled to the floor.

“What the hell are you—”

“Shut the fuck up, Lia.”

Sergio thundered inside, gave one look at me caging Mamma, hooked his finger on my collar, and pulled me off. I was already letting go, and that was the only reason he could do it.

“Nice of you to redecorate,” he growled. “But can we get around to actually looking for the girl who’s making you lose your shit?”

“I’ve not lost my shit.” I’d lost her.

“No shit. You think about that. I’ll get some men and follow all the exits out of here.”

“No need.” I shoved him off.

“Well, how are we going to find her, then?”

“I know where she is.”

“Great.” Sergio threw his arms in the air. “Then what the hell are we doing breaking shit?”

“Fuck off.” I burst out of the door and into the hallway.

“It’s Sara’s wedding tomorrow,” Mamma called out.

I scowled. “So?”

“So find her and bring her back. In one piece. If you fucking hurt her, I’m killing you,” Sergio interjected.

“Please.” I took the steps two at a time. “If I hurt her, I am fucking killing myself.”