Page 40 of The Mastermind (Mafia Rivals #1)

CESARE

Keeping this secret would be like loading an anvil and two anchors around my neck and attempting to breathe and walk and talk like normal.

Rafaelle knew something was up within the first day of the US Grand Prix.

Thankfully, he attributed it to woman trouble and I didn’t disabuse him of that.

There would be hell to pay when I finally came clean.

I knew that. The new ache in my chest burned with a feverish hope that hell wouldn’t be apocalyptic.

Orazio would lose his mind. Pops would be homicidal. War would be declared, no doubt.

But Rafaelle was my main worry.

I couldn’t lose my brother.

My guilt intensified when he caught me instructing Fist to double Maddelena’s security.

She’d turned on her phone halfway through the week to a dozen messages from Stefano, her father and El Topo, all demanding to know where she was, why she’d ditched her security.

She’d looked stricken for a moment, then with a face set in gorgeous mutiny I was getting familiar with, she’d quickly typed a long message. She’d turned the screen to me before hitting send and I’d been shocked and hella impressed at her boldness.

I need some time to myself. I’m safe. Give me space to get the results we need or accidents might happen. Nobody wants that, do we?

Her message had worked – apparently – because no one had stormed the island.

We’d decided to come straight to Austin after leaving the Maldives.

Buy ourselves a little more time before she needed to face El Topo’s wrath in light of her little rebellion.

Since we were the only two who knew I was now privy to her secret, and I wasn’t on a tearing, bloodthirsty rampage, her grandfather would be more inclined to believe she hadn’t let any dirty family secrets slip. That I might still be in her thrall.

So what if the last part was true enough?

Rafa weighing in with which soldiers to fly in from New York to Austin and the best way to go about secretly watching her without tipping off her own security who’d returned to her side made me feel like the worst fucking shit.

Even worse was when I left the team meeting early so I could slide my keycard over my suite door, every atom in my body jumping to feel that first glide of my skin against hers when I slid between the sheets.

Her helpless moan as she spread her thighs in welcome or dropped to her knees, her eager hands and greedy mouth ready to swallow me whole and dissolve my brain.

When my tongue curled around hers and I growled, ‘ Mine ,’ and the voice that warned me that my addiction to her was getting way out of control wouldn’t be quieted.

‘Congrats on winning another race,’ she said when we’d caught our breaths. ‘And thanks for not strangling my brother even though he caused your puncture.’

‘I don’t have to drag congrats out of you this time, huh?’ I grinned and dragged her pliant body closer. ‘As for your brother, he got the penalty he deserved. And I didn’t get backtalk on the podium. His neck is safe.’

Her hand slid up my chest as my gaze coasted the room to the open laptop on the desk. ‘Got any work done?’

‘Some. This is the first race I’ve missed all season so it’s not raising eyebrows. Yet. As long as the money gets where it needs to go and salaries are paid, I’m fine.’

‘Anything else?’

Her lips pursed and anxiety darted across her face.

‘More messages from my father and Bonafacio telling me to come home. I didn’t reply,’ she murmured, then sucked in a breath.

‘I don’t think he believes any more that I have you wrapped around my finger.

He sees this for what it is – his granddaughter rebelling. ’

Shit .

We were watching the last dregs of sand drip through an hourglass. The reckoning was coming.

A caustic little laughter drew my frowning attention back to her. ‘At least now I don’t have to hide that I know he plans to marry me off to some crusty old coot with a mandate to put as many babies in me as possible before he kicks the bucket.’

My head filled with static.

I suspected it was my body’s defence mechanism, a fierce and visceral reaction to what I was hearing. I shook it once. But it didn’t dissipate, which was why I roared the words, ‘What the fuck did you just say?’

Her eyes goggled. ‘I said… well, as bullets go, it might not seem like much but if you’re going to tell your family about what I know, then my grandfather can’t marry me off at Christmas if I’m not around, can he?’

A kind of madness washed over me. A tsunami of fear and rage.

It’d been a handful of weeks. I shouldn’t have been this gone over any woman, never mind this one.

Or… had I been kidding myself all along?

Was this far from an irritant in my chest or an itch waiting to be scratched?

Because that sensation had spread like a virus, sneaking up on the slipstream of my lust and hubris and overtaking me before I even realised it was happening.

‘Bonafacio plans to marry you off… this Christmas. And you fucking knew? ’

Her eyelids fluttered down, but the rest of her face gave her away. Like I said, shit liar. ‘It was why I wanted you to take me away. I couldn’t face going back home.’

My breath shuddered out as the implications moved, calibrated. Realigned themselves into a new, undeniable state. I didn’t want Maddelena for a short time, for the handful of races left, to teach her a lesson or to triumph over my enemies. I wanted her… forever.

And she was… she was… ‘You’re…’

‘…marrying him at the end of the season. Possibly before Christmas.’

The roar in my head ripped free as I flung myself out of bed, then whirled to face her.

She didn’t cower. Didn’t react. Just stared with a heavy sadness that terrified me even more. Because that look said she’d accepted her fate. Either death by my family’s hand or reconciliation to belonging to someone else. After El Topo had punished her for her little rebellion.

‘Over my dead, rotting fucking corpse.’

‘Cesare—’

‘No!’

Now she reacted. Fire ignited in her eyes, burning away the sadness and acceptance.

Great. About fucking time.

‘You think you can stop any of what’s coming?’

‘I know I fucking can . And I dare any fucker to stand in my way?—’

‘No.’

I froze. ‘What did you say?’ I demanded for a second time.

‘I said no.’

The static returned, bringing with it an icy fog threatening to swallow me whole.

A debilitating weakness attacked my knees and I fucking stumbled.

Thankfully the wall was right there. The wall I’d fucked her against last night.

While she bliss-sobbed and screamed my name.

Was it a lie? Did she really not… ‘You don’t want me? ’

Bullshit , my brain scream.

Fuck that shit, my heart echoed. She does this, remember? Pulls back before she gives in. But my eyes were latched on to her beautiful face, craving confirmation that it wasn’t true.

She licked her lips and rose onto her knees, shaking her head.

‘I meant no to violence, Cesare. Not no to wanting you. Have you forgotten who we are? Not a single person is going to accept this beyond this handful of weeks. Hell, they’re plotting punishment now!

You know as well as I do this isn’t hyperbole or melodrama.

Genuine fucking war will break out. Again.

I can’t… can’t have that. Not in my name. ’

Her words crashed through my head, but I was staggering from the wall to the bed, shoving my fingers into her hair to direct her gaze to mine.

‘Say that again. That part about you wanting me. The rest can get fucked but I… I need to be 100 per cent sure we’re on the same page.’ My voice felt and sounded like gravel. Hell, my whole body felt as if I was being dragged through a woodchipper. Backwards.

‘I want you. Badly. Desperately. But without bloodshed. However this… if this happens?—’

‘It’s fucking happening, bedda. Accept it.’

Her eyes clung to mine for an age before she asked, ‘How?’

I dragged her close, closer, and when she wrapped her arms around me, I kissed her long and deep, desperately infusing strength and purpose. We were going to need both.

‘Carefully, baby. And while I can’t promise no violence’ – I tightened my grip when she started to protest – ‘I will not instigate it. You have my word on that. But I will do whatever it takes to protect and keep what is mine. Do you understand?’

Maddelena

Orazio lost patience with his grandson’s avoiding tactics the evening after he won the Brazilian Grand Prix.

Sofiya – against every security protocol put in place by a meticulous Cesare and his team – managed to get through with a message from Bonafacio.

‘He’s out of patience. He wants you home. Now, sis. He’s willing to forgive if you come back with me. Today.’

I stared at her from across yet another hotel room. ‘I don’t believe that and I know you don’t,’ I replied flatly.

She’d barely hesitated before she shook her head. ‘No, I don’t. He knows something’s up. We’re back to not winning races. But you knew there would be some consequences. So what are you thinking—?’ She stopped when her phone rang. With a flash of alarm, her eyes darted to me.

I sucked in a shaky breath and held out my hand. Pressed the answer button. ‘Nonno.’

‘I don’t know what in God’s name you think you’re doing but you will finish it now and come home.’

‘So you can marry me off?’

Sofiya’s eyes widened.

Bona’s breath hissed in fury. ‘Is that what this is about? You heard a rumour?—’

‘A rumour? Or a fact?’

‘Do not interrupt me, child.’

‘I’m not a child, Nonno. I’m a grown woman.’

He scoffed. ‘Are you sure? Because with the way you’ve been behaving lately it’s debatable.’

‘What way? I thought I was meant to be spying for you? Collecting information so we can beat our enemy?’

‘And have you done any of that? Or merely indulged in other wayward activities?’

Sofiya winced.

‘I’ve learned a few things, yes. But you didn’t answer my question. Do you intend to marry me off to some stranger?’