Page 11 of Contracted

Emilio turned his head, his eyes sharp and bright with fear as he focused on Serafino. “Yes?”

“You will treat my lady friend here with the utmost respect and reverence.”

Emilio turned his head to look at me. “My apologies, Ma’am.”

“Apology accepted,” I said in a small voice, though sparks of happiness filled me from within. Serafino had listened to me before acting on my behalf. I’d never had that from anyone before.

The driver smiled at me, then fired up the engine and drove down the long driveway before turning right onto an arterial road. That New York was a little over an hour in the other direction had me sitting up and asking Serafino, “Where are we going, exactly?”

“You’ll see,” he said noncommittedly.

We didn’t travel far, maybe thirty minutes before the driver slowed then turned off the main road onto a narrower strip of asphalt that led to a small, tranquil village nestled amongst hills with leafy trees. It boasted an old-world charm, which I imagined drew in tourists as it was bustling for such a small community.

I had to admit, I was a little excited at the outing. I rarely ventured outside of New York, my apartment was ludicrously expensive and my work kept me city bound most of the time. Not to mention I was doing everything possible to fill my savings account.

The driver opened the back passenger door, and Serafino pushed on dark sunglasses before he slid out, then proffered me a hand. I accepted his steadying clasp as he drew me to my feet, my heels unwieldy on the cobblestone pathway that bordered the shopfronts along the street.

Two young women strutted past in jeans and cowgirl hates, and I touched my messy bun, then looked down at my borrowed white shirt and the dress that barely covered my ass. I stood out like a sore thumb. I hadn’t even had a shower this morning.

Did I smell like sex?

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, as though reading my mind. Then he leaned closer and said, “I can smell myself on you.”

Another sedan pulled in behind us and he sent the driver a lazy wave before explaining, “Extra security, just to be safe.”

He scanned the area, then drew me across the street to a cozy café that was buzzing with patrons. “It’s still early enough for the breakfast menu.”

The café was charming, with rattan chairs and glass tabletops, a blackboard showcasing the day’s specials in looping, cursive writing. The scent of pastries and coffee beans was heavy in the air, the espresso machine kept busy as it gurgled and hissed.

A pretty young waitress approached, but Serafino had eyes only for me when she asked for our orders. I requested a chai latte while he decided on a strong black coffee. For breakfast we decided on sausages, eggs and hash-browns with a side of grilled tomato and avocado.

It wasn’t until our drinks arrived, steam floating gently from the top of the mugs, that I asked him, “So, who is Carlo to you?”

“He’s our consigliere, my oldest brother’s advisor. He was also our late father’s consigliere.”

At least now I understood why he respected the older man so much. I knew enough about the mob to comprehend Carlo was a big deal.

I’m sorry about your dad.”

My heart ached whenever I thought about my own father no longer being around.

“Don’t be.” He took a sip from his mug. “He wasn’t exactly a loveable father.”

“What did he do?”

“Other than being so ambitious he used his sons and daughter to be the most feared mafia family in New York and the entire country? It didn’t matter to him how he obtained that objective, just as long as he did.” He grimaced. “I guess that was why Ethan eliminated our dad before he forced Ethan to eliminate Sabrina.”

I gaped. “Your dad wanted Ethan to get rid of his own wife?” Serafino nodded and I added, “That is fucked up.”

His grin was a little crooked. “Welcome to my family.” He put his mug down. “What about your family?”

I grimaced. “I don’t really remember my mother. I was five when she returned to France and remarried.”

“That explains your accent.”

“It might be the only thing I acquired from her.” I took a sip of my drink, the spices soothing. “She started a new life with another man and left me with dad. I was happy enough, but he must have been lonely. He remarried when I was nine, then died when I was thirteen. Turned out his heart wasn’t good. I sometimes wonder if my mom broke it.”

“What happened to your stepmother?”

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