Page 23 of The Fixer

“I’ll have my hacker do some digging.” He glances to the side of the room and a smirk blooms across his handsome face. The faint lines around his eyes crinkle, giving him a youthful, mischievous expression I haven’t seen before. “Your bodyguard doesn’t like me.”

Gabriele stands tenser than usual, his shrewd eyes on us, honing in on where Garrix’s hand touches mine. His other hand comes to my chin, gently turning it around so I’m focused on him again.

“Take your blazer off, little killer,” he murmurs in my ear. We’re so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. I do as he asks, curiosity getting the better of me.

He kisses the back of my hand, then each knuckle. His lips press to the pulse point on my wrist and then ghost up my inner arm. Each touch is hot, passionate. When he makes it to my elbow, he nips the inside and I gasp as pure, molten pleasure makes my whole body thrum with excitement.

“I told you, little killer. You’re mine. Popov and your man doll over there need to recognize that you’re off limits.” He abruptly stands, adjusting himself not so discreetly and breaking me from the lust-induced haze I was in.

“How did you know where I was?” I demand. “It’s awfully convenient that you happen to come into the exact restaurant I was in at the right time.”

He bends down, taking my lips in another searing kiss that quickly turns dirty. He plunders my mouth until I’m gasping for breath. “I’ll always be there for you, little killer. The cake was delicious. We’ll talk soon.”

He leaves without answering my question, although I have a few guesses as to how he found me so easily. Everything feels colder in his absence, as if a small part of me died. The hopeful part that wants everything and thinks that whatever I have going on with Garrix isn’t a dangerous distraction.

Gabriele takes Dmitri’s seat across from me, frowning. Waiting. I know what he wants to say, but I’m not telling him a thing.

“You moved on…” Way to slut-shame me, asshole.

“It’s none of your—or anyone else’s—business. Remember, you signed an NDA. Please take me back to the office.” Even though I’m Nuova Notte’s fixer, I still have a day job I have to work. All of my siblings do to support the legitimate, public-facing side of the famiglia and keep up appearances. The multitude of charities we manage and donate to won’t run themselves.

Without waiting for him, I walk back to the car. He strides after me, and I can tell from the furious clip of his Italian leather boots on the concrete that he’s going to cause much more drama than I can handle. I let myself in the car and shut the door behind me. He sits in the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him.

“You know he’s almost thirty-eight years old? He’s twelve years older than you. He’s the second in command for a group of hired mercenaries, thugs, and thieves. You can do a lot better, Maddalena,” he scoffs.

“I don’t remember asking your opinion. I didn’t when we were sleeping together, and certainly won’t make a habit of doing so now.” My deadpan tone of voice only infuriates him more.

“We were more than that and you know it,” he seethes, gripping the steering tight enough that the leather creaks.

“I was more to you than you ever were to me. I needed someone to pass the time, and you needed someone who gave a fuck. Spoiler, that’s not me. You were too clingy and possessive and that’s not how I roll.”

“You seem to roll that way with him…” he spits, like the very words disgust him.

“He can pull it off.” Gabriele looks like he’s about to blow a gasket, and I cut this conversation short. “The reality is this, Gabriele. We had an arrangement, it ran its course. It’s over, and you need to move on. If you break your NDA and tell a soul about my meeting today, I’ll make sure you get transferred to the farm upstate. I hear they can always use strong, able-bodied men to feed the pigs…”

My threat hangs in the air as he grinds his teeth.

“I’m sure Don Vettore will want to know that there’s a threat to his only daughter’s security, and as your guard, I’m obligated to tell him.” His dark brown eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, furious and unforgiving. I laugh at his stupidity.

“And I know for a fact that my father will want to know that one of his personal guards, who he entrusted to keep his bambina safe, broke that trust and slept with her. You know why Barrone got transferred, don’t you?”

I know he got transferred because he finished his degree in Computer Science and wanted to join Max’s crew. But I know Gabriele is too self-centered to pay attention to others.

“After I broke up with you, Barrone and I went on a few dates. My stalker took some pictures of us kissing outside of a restaurant. Who knew you big, scary security guards were all such softies,” I quip, letting the threat sink in for him. “If you even think of fucking with me, I will ruin your life, Gabe. You’ll wish you got a job at the farm upstate. Capice?”

“Of course,” he grouses because he knows deep down he lost. No one gets the better of me, ever. Averting his eyes to the road, he lets out a defeated, heavy sigh.

It’s been a few days since I’ve seen Garrix. To his word, he kept in touch, sending me information his sources found. One of his men tailed Dmitri and found that he was spending a lot of time with his brothers and other high-ranking Yedinstvo members in a card room they owned out in Queens called Full House. I don’t know much about the place, but the little I do know is that nothing good comes out of there. It’s a dive bar where they go to plan schemes and snort coke.

He texts me constantly. Every day I get a good morning text. Then a few texts throughout the day that range from asking how I’m doing to flirting. And a good night text before bed. The possessive, intense criminal seems to have a soft side. I secretly relish the fact that no one but me experiences it.

Then I remind myself it’s a waste of time. I can’t have him. I’ve worked way too hard to let a man get in the way… even if he sends me thoughtful texts and works to bring my stalker to justice.

It’s eight thirty at night, so a bit early for his goodnight text. I find my brother in the living room, a controller in his hand.

“You want to play?” He pulls a video game up on the screen, scrolling through the characters.

“Sure.” I take the other controller and sit next to him on the couch.

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