Page 18 of Protected By the Mafia

“Yes, and that’s the motherfucking problem. How the goddamn hell did they know that, when I don’t even tell you that shit?” He stood, keeping his head on a swivel and glaring at the gawking pedestrian several yards down, until Iris was safely tucked into her car. When Ernesto in turn was locked behind the wheel, Cristiano pivoted and jogged two spaces down to his own car. He barely heard Mikey keep talking.

“Dammit, Cris, I don’t fucking know!” A keyboard rattled in the background. “You’re out with Iris, right? Call me back when she’s home, I should know more. Fuck.” The line went dead.

Cristiano dropped the phone into a cupholder in the center console and rolled the engine over, nearly forgetting to buckle in before he pulled into traffic. He wasn’t usually one for guard duty and playing second car escort was not his favorite game, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how. What he really hated was that he couldn’t call Felicity to let her know he was going to be a little later than he’d thought.

Felicity used the hidden button on the wall to close the drapes once it got dark. Even though they were so high up, she still felt too vulnerable being all by herself in a largely unknown environment to leave the lights on and the windows exposed. Closing the drapes, however, plunged her into the realization of how isolated she was.

Cristiano had already been gone for something like three hours or more. She hoped that didn’t mean something bad had happened to him. Because she didn’t want him to be hurt, yes, but also because if something had happened, she was fairly sure she would die in this room. How long did it take a person to die of dehydration? Or would she get so desperate she started drinking tap water from the bathroom sink? In which case, she’d die of starvation.

Then there were other risks. What if the building caught fire? What if a gas pipe broke? What if a waterline broke? What if a freaking plane flew into the building, even? How was she supposed to survive? How was she supposed to get help?

Felicity had no idea if the De Salvos owned the entire building, just this floor, or some combination in between. But if Cristiano thought hiding her here was safest, then the only person likely to search for anyone here was Cristiano himself. Great on the one hand, problematic on the other.

She paced the room, paying no attention whatsoever to the movie she’d pulled up on the television, her mind racing. She understood his argument about the danger of just going about her regular life. Her crazy, cliché-embracing family had put her on the hit-list of a powerful mafia boss. That was the kind of thing rational people hid from. But there needed to be a middle ground. She couldn’t spend the next however-long cooped up in a bedroom with no connection to the outside world stronger than Hulu. Although…

Felicity picked up the remote and quickly navigated out of the boring movie and over to another app altogether. Sure enough, her wealthy kidnapper-turned-lover had the live TV subscription. So she found a local news channel and left that on, hoping it would at least give her a warning of some kind. Something like ‘massive explosion at DS Industries’ or ‘multiple arrests made’ or anything that could potentially tell her she should panic.

She saw no streaming ticker tape with the De Salvo name, or her own, and let her mind wander again. Her gaze landed on the bed. She couldn’t do much about the things she was worried about until she had a chance to talk to Cristiano again, but she could at least tackle this. She’d seen the shelf in the closet with the fresh sheets.

It was late when he finally made it home. All he wanted to do was step out of his boots and drop into bed, with Felicity under his arm. But as soon as he made it past the foyer, he saw she hadn’t figured out that he’d left the bedroom door unlocked the last time. That meant she was probably starving.

He bit back a curse, mad mostly with himself for being in too much of a hurry to take a minute to explain all the thoughts that had been running through his head. He could have just told her she had free reign of any unlocked space and let what happened after determine whether or not it was too soon for that level of trust. In the moment he’d thought it required more of a conversation, more explanation, so he’d settled with simply not locking the door and seeing what happened. Which didn’t actually solve shit. It did answer the unspoken trust exercise, though, he supposed.

Cristiano set down the duffel and shopping bags he was carrying and detoured into the kitchen to see what he could throw together relatively quickly. Once he had some pasta started, he resumed his path to the bedroom, leaving the bags where they were for the time being. He’d probably have to wake her. No way she hadn’t gotten so bored she’d passed out.

He wasn’t wrong. When he cracked the door open, noticing immediately that the chair she’d used to block him in earlier was still where he’d left it on his way out, he saw the lights were dimmed and his sweet Felicity was curled up on her side on top of the comforter. The sheet had been ripped off and bunched up off to the side, and it looked like she’d found the spare set, too. He stepped properly into the room, the flickering lights telling him the TV was also on. The volume was so low he could hardly hear it, but one look confirmed she was watching a local channel. One that relayed news every few hours.

He smiled to himself and clicked off the television before moving further up to the bed. She was almost perfectly centered on the mattress and he wanted so badly to just slide in behind her. His cock twitched at the thought and he had to take a moment to will himself under control. They had a lot to talk about still. Kinks were on the list, but he couldn’t afford to make them the priority.

Cristiano knelt on the bed and reached for her, running his hand lightly over her side. “Need you to wake up, baby. I’m sorry I’m late.”

Felicity groaned and shifted, turning toward him. “Cristiano…?”

He leaned close and brushed his lips behind her ear, inhaling her scent and the way it had started to mix with his. “You better wake up before I try another tactic, Felicity.”

She pulled away, prompting him to sit up as she did the same. Her hair was a delightful mess around her head and she squinted just enough to indicate she still needed a moment to fully adjust. “I tried staying up.”

Something in his chest warmed and Cristiano hauled her closer, stealing a slow kiss before forcing himself to retreat. “Sorry for making you wait,” he said quietly. He pulled her to her feet and gave her hand a squeeze. “You were a very good girl while I was gone. Didn’t even try to run on me. How do you feel about pasta?”

Her stomach rumbled. “I am hungry.” Her eyes widened. “Wait, you have a camera in here?”

He chuckled. “No. I left the door unlocked, but you never left the room.” He watched her open her mouth, undoubtedly with an opinion on that, so he added, “I was in a hurry. We’ll go over everything while we eat.” He moved a hand to the small of her back, silently appreciating her choice of sleepwear. One of his plain black shirts.

“I mean, you could’ve said ‘hey, this’ll be unlocked. Don’t be dumb’ or something.” She grumbled the words, but nonetheless allowed him to lead her from the room at a calm pace.

He smiled. “I should have,” he said. “That’s on me.”

She finally stiffened, and he wasn’t sure if it was because she was getting her first look at the bulk of the penthouse or a reaction to what he’d said.

He tried to see the space for the first time, to see it how she might be. He knew she had struggled with money. He knew she was used to scrimping and sometimes bartering. He even knew that she could only afford her low-budget apartment on her own because she gave her employee discount at the grocery store to her sleezy landlord. Therefore, nothing about his high-end penthouse, furnished and designed with maximum masculine luxury in mind, would be normal or familiar to her.

The bulk of the main floor was open floorplan, with a large L-shaped kitchen separated from the living space by an island. He had an in-home office and a second bedroom, the former of which was securely locked and the latter hadn’t been used more than once. The laundry room was positioned in-between the bedrooms, and boasted a door which opened to a staircase that led down to the second half of the home. Downstairs he had a home gym, a small home theater, another full bathroom, and a section of space he was using as storage.

“What if something happened?”

Felicity’s question made him pause as they stepped into the living room. “What?”

She frowned up at him. “You said you’d only be a couple of hours, so I assumed something came up that kept you longer. And I figure that’ll happen again. But what if something happens to you and you can’t come back? Or what if something happens here, while you’re out? I was—or I thought I was—stuck in that room. I had no way to contact you or anyone else. What if the building caught fire or started flooding or something? Who would come to check on me if you got hurt?” She dragged in a breath. “I know it’s dangerous out there, but not at least having a way to reach out or be contacted in case of emergency seems really dumb. Especially considering the life I at least think you lead.”

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