Page 4 of Ruthless Mafia Daddy

Part of me hopes that with each passing year, the weight of the grief will lift, even just an inch. Enough where the world isn’t clouded in darkness, where I might see past the veil.

But no amount of drinking or fucking or killing seems to help.

Death is everywhere.

At this point, I’m pretty sure if someone were to cut me open, darkness would spill out and all that would be left of me was an empty shell and a blackened heart.

The only thing that keeps this shattered thing somewhat beating is my family. Or what’s left of it.

I lean back in the plush velvet chair and scan the room once more, my eyes finding the stunner sitting at the bar once more.

She’s checked her phone six times in the past two minutes alone.

I clench the glass of scotch in my hand, watching as the fuckwit opposite her rattles on and on about god knows what, paying more attention to the beer in his hand than to the absolutely drop-dead gorgeous woman sitting opposite him.

And I mean gorgeous.

The way she’s crossed her legs has made her short black dress ride up, exposing tanned thighs that make my hands itch to run all over them.

Fuck, if I was sat opposite her, I’d find a way to have my hands on her immediately. To confirm that her skin is as warm and as soft as it appears to be.

Her long brown curls are loose around her slim shoulders, practically shimmering under the low orange lights of the bar.

She glances around. Her demeanor is tight, like she is nervous. Her back is straight ramrod-looking, her eyes wide and restless.

Shit, is this guy making her uncomfortable?

Why do I care? I should be drinking myself into oblivion tonight and stumbling home to my little brother and sister.

Speaking of, I check my phone.

Seven messages from Marco complaining about our sister.

I can’t hold my chuckle in. Rosa may be the youngest at fifteen, but she is a force to be reckoned with.

I glance at the goddess at the bar once more.

Maybe I should indulge tonight. Let myself go. She looks like she could help me forget.

Before my brain registers what is happening, I’m out of my chair and crossing the distance between us.

As she tries to climb off the stool, I reach for her elbow, her skin as warm to the touch as I imagined it. My fingers tingle from the contact.

Her muscles tense under my hand, and eyes of the palest blue meet mine.

Fuck, she is even more gorgeous up close. I can’t help but flick my gaze to those pouty red lips.

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt,” I start, letting the corners of my mouth lift into a smirk, “but if I have to listen to this fuckwit talking about stats and battles and whatnot for one more second, I may just start killing people.”

The woman lets out a nervous laugh, glancing sidelong at her date.

I lean in a little closer until her perfume hits my nose, and I bite back a moan. Vanilla and orange blossom. Delicious, just like her.

“You look incredible in that dress, by the way.” I let my eyes fully take her in, appreciating the way her clothes hug her curves.

Her pale blue eyes widen, and she hides a smile as her date jumps to his feet.

“Hey, you can’t talk to her like that,” he growls, fists clenched as he confronts me. “We’re in the middle of a fucking date, man.”

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