Page 38 of The Mastermind (Mafia Rivals #1)

But just when I thought the subject I’d been dreading was over, he kissed the corner of my still-sucking mouth. ‘You’re lying. Tell me the truth, Maddelena,’ he whispered.

I tried to jerk free. The move pulled on my captured nipple, and incredibly, shamefully, sent a fresh wave of need straight between my legs. ‘Uhmm… nnn.’

He watched me with almost unfeeling eyes, then slowly pulled his fingers from between my lips. ‘Speak.’

‘I’m not…’ I repeated, fervently hoping he blamed the heat in my face for outrage.

‘We’ve been going at it quite a lot. I’m…

sore,’ I plucked out of thin air. It was only partly true and, Jesus, given the choice, I would’ve ignored my throbbing pussy and the uncomfortable chafing I felt whenever I moved, just for the chance of sleeping in Cesare’s arms.

But I couldn’t.

He released his vicious grip on my nipple, his nostrils flaring. ‘You’re sore. And you think I’m such a monster I would insist on fucking you when you’re in pain?’

Shame doused my heat, making me squirm in my seat. ‘I didn’t… say that.’

Ice and disappointment slowly tightened his face, and my heart dropped through the floor. ‘Even if you thought that, we have a perfectly adequate second bedroom. But you want your own chalet.’ His tone was flat. Cold.

‘Cesare… I?—’

He surged to his feet, snatched his glass off the table and turned his back on me. ‘Fist will have your things moved.’ He strolled over to the edge of the terrace, planted his elbows onto the railing, and fixed his gaze on the orange and purple sunset.

I’d been dismissed. This was what I wanted, right?

Except my feet were lead stumps that weighed me down with each step to scoop up my beach coverup and glasses.

As ever, Fist, with his weird bat signal radar, was waiting for me when I reached the hallway leading to the bedroom. He held out my purse, his dead eyes resting steadily on me. My dainty Birkin looked so ridiculous in his meaty fist it was funny. But I couldn’t summon humour.

‘The boys will vacate the place next door. You should be all good there. We’ll bring your stuff in ten minutes.’

The thing with Fist was that you could never tell if he was happy or sad about a situation.

So I didn’t even bother to read which way he swung in this particular one.

With my heart thudding in protest like I was dragging it through a lake of sticky molasses, I nodded, took my purse and headed for the front door.

Cesare

It was a little thing.

Inconsequential.

Something I’d done myself to countless faceless women in the past when I was done fucking them. And yet, I was equal parts furious and… Cristu , was I actually hurt ? The very idea of it made me gulp down a mouthful of cognac and immediately return for a refill.

My eyes fell to the glass of frilly pina colada she’d left untouched, and my mood face-planted all over again. What the fuck?

My head whipped around when I heard movement, my heart doing an actual fucking leap at the thought it was her, changing her mind.

Coming back to me. I had a flash of wicked gratification where I made her make amends for her little bullshit stunt by sucking me off right here on the deck, for all the fish and stars to see.

But it was Fist who appeared. ‘She’s gone,’ he announced.

My jaw clenched. As if I didn’t know. As if I couldn’t tell the marked difference with the absence because the light breeze washing over me didn’t carry her alluring scent. She was only next door and yet with the aching hollow in my middle, she could’ve been ten thousand miles away.

What the hell was happening to me? How had I gone from scratching a long-awaited itch to being pathetically upset she refused to spend the night with me? From feeling like I couldn’t quite catch my breath because she wasn’t within touching distance.

Fist was still watching me. Rare curiosity in his gaze. ‘Anything else?’ I snapped. Did she seem unhappy? Was she regretting her decision? Begging to come back?

‘No, Boss. Goodnight, Boss.’

I waved him away, then drank some more. Because apparently it was my only recourse since I wouldn’t be fucking Maddelena tonight. Or talking to Maddelena. Or falling asleep next to Maddelena on our first night as a… what? A couple? A short-to-medium-term-flirting-with-danger-and-death hook-up?

Jesus .

Shaking my head, I threw myself into the nearest lounger, glad Rafa wasn’t here. He would be laughing his head off until I threatened to drown him in the ocean.

My phone pinged. I debated ignoring it. But with everything going on, that wasn’t wise. And helluva a thing if it wasn’t the devil speaking.

Heads up. Orazio is on the warpath. So enjoy that pussy while it lasts.

Fuuuuuck! Two weeks had whittled down to days. Days Maddelena was wasting with her bullshit.

Grazii, I plan to. Anything transpire from our conversation with our little cokehead friend?

Nope. But our heads remain on a swivel.

Good.

I tossed my phone away and discarded my glass in favour of drinking straight from the bottle. Admitting I wanted to get drunk as quickly as possible to fill the stupid ache inside felt even more pathetic. But did I stop? Nah.

And when the familiar haze descended, I was far too eager to embrace it. Even though I suspected the reprieve would be woefully short.

I’m not sure exactly what woke me.

It was still night. And with minimal light filtering through from the living room, the blanket of stars above my head was even more spectacular.

The kind poets wrote reams about. I was no fucking poet.

And my head throbbed like a motherfucker.

Joining the ache that was still… yep… gnawing at my middle.

I sighed, dropped my feet to the cool polished wood and stood. The haze had cleared, leaving dry-mouth and regret behind.

Striding inside, I grabbed a bottle of water, downed half, and sipped at the remainder.

The prospect of going downstairs to the glass underwater bedroom – the pricey as fuck novelty which made this particular overwater bungalow eye-wateringly pricey but which had drawn sexy little appreciative gasps of delight from Maddelena – now annoyed the hell out of me.

But sleeping on the sofa seemed like something a pathetic chump would do. So I headed back out to the terrace.

And saw her.

I froze, wondering what the hell I was seeing. The water bottle halfway to my lips slowly lowered to my side as first bewilderment, then fury, resurged.

Her lingerie, clinging to the dangerous curves and valleys of her body, was the sort of lace and debauchery concoction filthy men like me paid fortunes for the chance to rip off a woman’s body, desperate for the treasure underneath.

The kind that should sure as fuck not be on display for public consumption.

Yet there she was, right in the open. Doing what exactly?

She was staring into the distance as she walked towards the edge of the deck next door.

‘Maddelena?’ Savagery, naked and primal, bled through my voice.

She didn’t answer.

Was this a fucking joke?

I tossed the bottle away and stalked closer. There was no way to get to her from here without jumping in the water and swimming over. In that time any waiter, butler or guest out walking could set eyes on what was mine. Like hell that was happening.

‘Maddelena.’

Her lips moved but I couldn’t hear her. And why the hell was she ignoring me?

Her pacing hastened and her hand shot out, as if warding off an invisible attack. As I watched, her movements grew more agitated, her lips moving faster. She bumped into the railing and about-faced, rushing towards the other end, away from me.

What the fuck? ‘Maddelena!’

I was moving as I called out, dropping into the cool ocean beneath the deck and striking out towards hers. With powerful strokes, I reached her deck in less than a minute. Water sluiced off my body as I clambered up the steps.

She’d reached the end and had turned, coming right at me.

Looking straight at me… and yet… not.

‘Giada, no! What did you do? No! Oh God, is that… that’s Isabella Salvatore !’

My blood ran cold, my feet turning to ice. A roar started in my head and I couldn’t breathe. Could only watch as her shins bumped the nearest lounger, slowing her down for a moment. But the terror-glazed conversation she was replaying, lost in her sleepwalking nightmare, continued.

‘Giada, did you…? Oh please, God, no. No, no, no!’ Her hands, trembling like leaves in a tornado, cupped her mouth, her eyes wide with the horror that had unfolded one random Tuesday afternoon five years ago, when my mother decided to go for confession at our local parish church before shopping in Manhattan.

Not knowing it would be her last.

Not knowing that Ivanovski, furious with our fucking up his months-long attempts to encroach on our New York territory, with the full backing of the Mancinellis, was intent on revenge.

The unscrupulous fucker had targeted the innocent, striking down my mother and the handful of wives and cousins she’d been out with that day in a deadly and cowardly attack.

We’d struck back ten times harder of course, after the asshole had dared to crow about slaughtering our loved ones, and before he’d had the good sense to flee back to Mother Russia, we’d massacred three dozen of his crew.

Fist, who’d lost his mother that day too, had personally killed at least fifteen men.

I shook my head now, unable to wrap my brain around the shocking, unwitting confession unfolding before my eyes. Had Liv lied about who’d pulled the trigger that killed Mama?

Had it been Giada Mancinelli?

My fingers clawed through my hair, pulling at strands in the hopes of yanking me out of this nightmare. Or if not, finding an alternative explanation that made sense.

But what was there to understand?

Maddelena had known all along and covered up for her sister. The hollow in my chest turned into a block of ice.

She approached where I stood, stared me straight in the eye. ‘Give me the gun,’ she whispered fervently.

I shook my head, words locked within the ice.

Cristu. Pi favori. No.

‘The gun, Giada. Please! Run!’

Her agitation drilled a hole through the ice, enough for me to drop my hands. To reach for her. But… My fists bunched. I couldn’t.

I paused. Swallowed. The burn from thinking she’d believed me to be a horny monster who couldn’t keep his hands off her – borderline true to be fair – necessitating the need for her own bed, was almost laughable now. If I’d thought my feelings were hurt then, they were fucking mincemeat now.

‘Run, run, run, run…’ Her voice was wreathed in hopeless terror and despair, trailing off in hoarse rasps as tears dripped from her eyes.

Sucking in a breath, I reached for her.

She flinched. Attempted to dislodge my grip. It occurred to me that I needed to snap her out of it. Wake her up.

But that would mean engaging with her. Confirming what I’d heard. And fuck it all to hell, I wasn’t ready for that. Not when I was reeling like fucking tumbleweed in a desert storm.

She was quietly sobbing when I led her through the living room and into the bedroom. And dammit, hearing it thawed the numbing ice, replacing it with a ball of grief mixed with… fear?

What the hell did I have to fear? Her family had gravely wronged mine . As the underboss and heir, I had every right to exact retribution.

To demand an eye for an eye… or the equivalent. Demand that she…

My insides congealed just as the thought stalled, unable to complete any thought or scenario that involved hurting Maddelena.

Fuck . The full connotations of this revelation threatened to chop me off at the knees. But her quiet sobs were wrecking me harder.

When we reached it, I paused in shock at the state of her room.

The bed was severely rumpled and she’d left a minor trail of destruction in her path.

The lamp near the door was overturned, as were the cushions, pillows and sheets.

A couple of drawers were half and fully drawn, as if she’d been looking for something.

Something like… a key? I blinked.

She’d tried to lock herself in, knowing the risks. And she’d failed.

Cursing under my breath, I pulled her into my arms, freakishly alarmed when the ache in my middle immediately subsided. With one final sob, she crumpled against me. Sweeping her up, I returned her to bed, remained until her breathing evened out in deep sleep.

Then I rose, shutting drawers, righting the lamp and returning pillows to the bed. I rescued the cushion from the floor to the chair and sat down.

And as I guarded her through the night, I accepted that if I’d needed proof that I was oceans deep for Maddelena Mancinelli, I now had full, irrevocable confirmation.