Page 12 of Married to the Mafia

Mikey dragged in a breath, nearly missing his cue to change lanes. “Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Brandi.”

“I don’t,” she repeated firmly. “I’ve never seen him before and he didn’t give me a name. He just talked like some B-grade movie villain, honestly.” She paused, shifted in her seat, and when she spoke again her words were quieter. Weaker. “You don’t … happen to employ some musclehead with a ripped earlobe, do you?”

For a second, the question enraged him. Mikey didn’t reply immediately, forcing himself to think over all of her words and consider why she might need to ask.

Brandi knew her father had soured the relations between the Richardsons and De Salvos. She more than likely had some idea how powerful and dangerous the De Salvos really were. She certainly knew she hadn’t asked a nerdy business owner to come rescue her. So, she had plenty of reason to believe that she wasn’t in the best of standing with him and his family. If something had happened, if someone had shaken her up, the De Salvos were a logical suspect from that perspective.

It still pissed him off. But he did what he could to keep the anger from his voice when he said, “Not to my knowledge. Moreover, we haven’t sent anyone after you. You haven’t given us a reason.”

She blew out a breath. “I can’t decide if that’s a relief … or incredibly disconcerting.”

When she fell silent, and as the office came into sight, Mikey tapped the call button on the dash and connected with Ryoma’s car. “You’re dismissed,” he said as soon as the man answered.

After the call disconnected, Brandi whispered, “I know this is stupid, but I always thought the mafia was … I don’t know, particular I guess, about the whole ‘Italian’ thing.”

Mikey felt his eyebrows leap up his forehead. “What?”

“That guy,” she said, “the one you just called? He’s Japanese, right?”

“He is.”

“I always thought there were distinctions. You know, Italian mafia, Mexican cartel, Russian bratva, Irish mob, Japanese yakuza. That kind of thing.”

Mikey couldn’t help but chuckle as he swung into his designated parking space and cut the engine. Of all the conversations he’d considered he might have with this woman, he hadn’t once imagined this. “You’re not wrong,” he said. He released his seatbelt and twisted to face her. “Big brother doesn’t care so much about nationality—we’re American, most of us have mixed blood these days. What really matters is loyalty.” He reached across and released her seatbelt when she failed to move. “In Ryoma’s case, he was yakuza. Shit happened. He’s with us now.”

A small smile finally lifted Brandi’s lips, lighting the brown of her eyes. “You know I’m a naturally curious person.”

“You know I’m not going to tell you.” What she didn’t know was the way her more settled expression was affecting him. It simultaneously put something inside him at ease and made him want to unsettle her in a very different, highly inappropriate, way.

Brandi dropped her gaze and reached down, lifting her purse. “I won’t ask, don’t worry.” She paused, phone deposited in the bag she called a purse, and said softly, “Thank you for coming to get me, Mr. De Salvo. I really appreciate it.”

Frustration and something more difficult to identify churned in his chest and Mikey reached up, catching her jaw between thumb and forefinger. He turned her head just enough to meet her stare once more. “If whatever your situation is becomes an issue, bring it to my attention. You’re too valuable an asset to let fall apart, understand?” His finger curved along her chin as he released her, the smooth skin practically electrocuting him. “Least of all for the sake of someone who doesn’t appreciate your worth.”

Her lips parted and she sucked in an audible breath, her chest rising with the motion. “Yes, sir,” she whispered.

That time he fully understood the way his blood heated.

Mikey shoved from his car. “Let’s go.” He wasn’t going to take advantage of his employee, let alone the daughter of a man who would sooner see his entire family crumble. He shouldn’t even want to.

Brandi was sufficiently distracted for the rest of the workday. It was hard not to be, with the different way Mikey had behaved that afternoon. The sound of her name finally leaving his lips and the memory of his touch teasing her skin. She even forgot that she had, once again, not eaten lunch—until it came time to leave and she realized she was starving.

She’d used her afternoon break to call her credit card companies and report the cards stolen, as well as taking advantage of some downtime in the afternoon to file an online auto theft report. There really wasn’t much more she could do until someone got back to her. She would have to get her condo’s keys changed, but she wanted to do that anyway in light of the stalker breaking in, so she mentally moved that up her itinerary to the following afternoon. What was one more wasted lunch break?

What really grated on her was having to use one of the rideshares that had been too good to come pick her up earlier to get her home after work. Still, she couldn’t bum a ride. There was the stalker to consider. She was a bit concerned how that asshole would react when he realized she was without her car.

The oblivious Uber driver dropped her off in front of her condo and Brandi scampered inside with the aid of her spare key. Only once she was back in her home did she realize that being locked in didn’t provide that immediate sense of relief and security it had offered before. She went through the motions anyway, locking and resetting the alarm, then checking to make sure the condo itself was empty. She queued up her streaming music app, plugged in her speakers, and dug food out of her refrigerator to fill the condo with upbeat music and the aroma of tasty food.

It helped … for a couple of hours.

Until it came time to shower and crawl into bed. She never had gone out and gotten herself that stun gun, not that an electric weapon in the steamy bathroom would be a brilliant idea. All she could do was put her phone nearby, slightly hidden by a carefully placed towel, and hope. She showered quickly, unable to enjoy it the way she wanted, and chose to slip on a pair of shorts over her panties after drying off. The bedroom was quiet, and a final check of the condo revealed no new visitors.

Brandi plugged her phone in beside the bed, bundled herself beneath the covers, and did her best to relax for sleep. She told herself her stalker had said he wouldn’t be back until the next night. But how much could she trust such a man’s word?

Has Mikey ever barged in on a woman in the middle of the night?

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