Page 39 of Protected By the Mafia

Felicity lowered into the outermost corner of the sofa, not sure how comfortable she should really get, and nodded. “Okay.”

Dr. Laura stared straight at her, as if trying to read her mind. “What’s your name?”

Felicity licked her lips. Why did she not know if she was supposed to answer that? No, Cristiano had said to embrace this, that it was for her. Obviously, her doctor needed her name. “Felicity Garcia.”

“Are you here voluntarily, Felicity?”

“What?”

Dr. Laura’s eyes narrowed. “Are you here of your own free will?”

Something like indignation sparked in Felicity’s chest. “Yes. Yes, I’m here of my own free will. It was literally my choice. I asked Cristiano to come here.” She clamped her lips shut before she went off on a woman who didn’t know her. A woman who, arguably, had at least some reason to be suspicious.

Dr. Laura was silent for a moment. “Tell me about that,” she said. “What was your choice, specifically? Was it an ultimatum, an offer with a price attached? Something else entirely?”

Felicity clenched her hands into fists in her lap. “Cristiano said you were friends with his mom. He said we could trust you. So while I get that this isn’t an ideal beginning, maybe you should understand their lifestyle well enough to comprehend that shit is complicated right now. And that’s why I’m here. Because my life is a fucking mess, and he knew I needed someone to help me sort it out. So he recommended you, said you were someone I could safely talk to if I wanted. Or I could choose not, and the only consequence was the same as I’d been living with—dealing on my own.”

Dr. Laura’s expression finally softened around the edges. “I’m impressed he told you that.”

“If we’re going to spend my half hour judging my motives or whatever, I can do that without professional help,” Felicity said, her tone sharp. She stood, stupidly wishing she’d worn heels just for the miniscule boost.

Dr. Laura held up a hand. “No,” she said. “This is an incredibly unorthodox beginning, but as long as your need is genuine and you aren’t in fear for your life, we can proceed.”

Felicity couldn’t contain the rush of incredulous laughter. She dropped back to the seat, her skirt fluttering, and clapped a hand over her mouth. “And what if I am?” She pulled in a breath. “Cristiano might not be threatening me, but there are at least, like, three other men in this city right now looking to do terrible things to me.” All of a sudden, her eyes were burning. “And I didn’t do anything to them. I was just born, and I never had it in me to kill myself, so here I am. Wanted by a mafia guy for being related to a psycho bastard, and wanted by the psycho bastard and his gang friends for … existing, I think.” Tears dripped off her lashes as her mouth continued to run. “My landlord’s being super sketchy, admitting to things he never actually did, so there’s also that. And I had to lie to my best friend—my only friend—because I’m in hiding, so now she’s not talking to me.”

Dr. Laura rested her hands in her lap, sadness in her eyes. “You were right. That is complicated.”

Felicity yanked a couple of tissues from the box to wipe at her face, feeling self-conscious again.

“Let’s start with the psycho bastard,” Dr. Laura said. “Tell me who he is to you, and why you think your very existence makes you a target for him. Be as specific as you’re comfortable with.”

Felicity sucked in a shaky breath. She hated going over all of that, but this more than anything was the reason she needed therapy and she knew it. Not that she thought a single day would fix her trauma, but a girl had to start somewhere.

It was surprisingly hard to sit patiently in the lobby and simply wait for her, like he’d promised to do. At one point Cristiano had thought he’d heard Felicity let out a laughing sound, but it wasn’t her real laugh. It was a strained, upset sound that shot him to his feet before he could catch himself. Therapy wasn’t easy. It wasn’t supposed to be easy.

So he forced himself to sit back down.

He waited quietly, impatiently clearing emails and spying on associates’ social media accounts, for a good ten minutes before his phone buzzed with an incoming text.

Mikey: We need to talk. My office.

Cristiano frowned. What the fuck was up with his cousins and their strange, cryptic messages the last few days? He glared uselessly at his phone as he typed out his response. Which office?

Mikey: House. ASAP. Mikey never had been one for extended dialogues. He also wasn’t usually one for insisting on a face-to-face.

Grinding his teeth, Cristiano shoved to his feet and stomped down the hall. He was not aborting Felicity’s appointment when she’d waited a damn week to get in already. He dropped his knuckles to the door in warning, then pushed it open despite Dr. Laura’s protests.

Felicity had tears in her eyes, a crumpled tissue in her hand, and was staring at him with concern at his unexpected interruption. “What—”

“Cristiano, you can’t just barge in here!”

Cristiano moved across the room, lifted another tissue, and crouched down to gently wipe at Felicity’s eyes. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said quietly. “I have to go indulge Mikey for a minute. He’s not long-winded, it won’t take long, but it can’t wait.”

She gaped at him. “But…”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stood, dropping the tissue into the garbage pail. Then he turned to Dr. Laura. “I’ll pay for double the session. I should be back by then.”

Dr. Laura scowled at him in disapproval.

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