Page 243 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

I stare in horror at a table to my left. It has all kinds of knives on it and tools, and I feel myself beginning to lose it. Tears start streaming down my face.

“Good, that’ll be even better. Rocco,” he says speaking to the camera. “Your girl is quite upset. Too bad you couldn’t protect her.”

He picks up a knife and walks toward me. And then all hell breaks loose.

Windows crash and doors smash and men in black are descending from every direction. I scream and try to crouch down but there’s nowhere for me to go.

“Please don’t hurt me!” I scream as one black figure runs toward me.

“Lena, tesoruccia, baby, it’s me,” he says. My eyes focus and I find myself staring into Rocco’s worried face. “Are you OK? Did he hurt you?” he asks as he takes a knife and rips the zip ties from me. He pulls me into his embrace. I watch over his shoulder as the man who took me is handcuffed. He’s yelling something about the Bonetti family.

Another man comes over to us. “Is she alright?” he asks.

“Baby, are you OK?” Rocco asks as his hands rove my body looking for injury.

“I’m OK. You came just in time,” I manage.

“Stay with her,” Rocco says as he turns and walks over to Marco and punches him in the face before grabbing his neck. “I’d kill you, but I sort of like the idea of you sitting in a small, gray cell for the rest of your miserable life. I have a lot of friends at the state penitentiary. I’ll look forward to hearing all about your stay there. Goodbye, Marco.”

“You don’t have shit on me, motherfucker! My cousin will get me out. You’ll see. And when he does, I’m coming for you,” Marco yells as he’s dragged away.

I walk back over to Lena. “He will never get out, Lena. I promise you. My friends are much more powerful than his.”

“We need to question her,” another man says.

“You’ll get statements when she’s fucking ready to give them,” Rocco growls as he takes me into his arms and picks me up. “Right now, she’s coming home with me.” Wait. Are they cops? Why would the mafia work with cops? I blink up at Rocco in confusion.

“Is he a police officer?” I ask.

“Sort of,” he replies. “The Feds…have an understanding with me. They’ll pretend to be my security team and turn him over to the state cops.”

He carries me out of the building and to a waiting SUV.

“Rocco?” I ask.

“Yes, baby?” he answers as he sets me gingerly on the backseat.

“I’m sorry,” I say as my lip begins to tremble. “I should have listened to you. I didn’t think I was in danger.”

He slides in next to me and a driver takes us out of a parking lot. His hand comes up to my face.

“Lena, I want you to trust me. I wish I’d never gone to that damn restaurant. I wish I didn’t get you wrapped up in my world. But you are now. There’s no going back,” he says.

I lean into his hand and close my eyes. “I need time to process this…all of this,” I say because it’s true. In one week, I went from my normal life to this crazy one.

“Can we at least agree you’ll do what I say?” he asks with a sigh of exasperation.

Somehow, this statement makes me smile. Fuck, this man is so controlling. I should hate it. I should hate him. But I don’t.

“We both know that is not going to happen,” I reply.

He smiles at me as he brushes my hair from my eyes. “We’ll see about that. Because this”—he motions between us—“is much more than just some dinner date.”

Epilogue

Four months later…

LENA

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