Page 6 of Married to the Mafia

The greeting told Mikey it wasn’t a work call, but he still watched his brother’s face for signs that anything might be wrong. What he saw instead was a newly familiar crinkling of warmth at the corners of Dante’s eyes and a subtle upward twitch of his lips that lacked any mocking cruelty he reserved for his victims.

“Of course, honey. We’re just finishing up. Give me five minutes, I’ll bring it to you.”

Mikey straightened even as Romeo reached over and swatted his shoulder.

Dante lowered the phone. “Unless either of you had urgent business of your own, that’s all I needed tonight.”

“We’re good,” Romeo said, standing. “I’ve got a pregnant wife of my own to get home to, anyway. Give Iris my best.”

Mikey pushed to his feet and shouldered his tablet bag. “I’ll email you that plan as soon as it’s ready. In the meantime, just reach out if you need anything.”

Dante nodded, only standing after both of them were on their feet, and tucked his phone away. He bid them goodnight but walked with them only as far as the split in the hall.

Mikey and Romeo let themselves out, parting in the garage as Romeo ducked into his waiting SUV. Mikey nodded politely when his gaze met with Romeo’s longtime driver, Mo, before angling into his own vehicle. He’d long ago forgone replacing the driver and bodyguard who’d been assigned to him as an early teen. That was a strong bond, to be sure—Romeo and Mo were proof enough of the claim—but it was hard to deal with the loss when the guard did his job.

Some days, Mikey still felt sick over that memory. So, he preferred not to have an assigned person. It was just easier.

He followed Mo down the drive, but turned the opposite direction at the end of the street. Romeo was going home. Mikey was not. It wasn’t super late. He’d put in a few more hours before he made his way to his oversized, empty home.

Brandi woke in the early hours of the morning with a start, her heart racing wildly. For a split-second she was disoriented, recognizing her bedroom and yet feeling certain that something was wrong. Questions half-formed in her mind before coming to a screeching halt when the source of the wrongness moved into her line-of-sight.

He was tall, over six foot for sure, with a hat covering his head and crooked nose beneath his brown eyes. His entire face barely registered in her mind as his hulking size loomed over her, leather coat bulging against broad shoulders and muscles even the dim lighting in the room failed to hide. The only portion of his skin she could see was his face, the rest of him covered in black fabric of some type. He was scowling and scary as hell.

Terror like Brandi had never known shot through her and she threw herself backward until she was pressed against the headboard, comforter twisted in her hands. Why in the hell did she not have a weapon? Would it matter if she’d ever bought a gun or can of mace to keep in the nightstand? “Wh-who the hell are you?” She hated that she stammered. She hated that her fear showed. She hated that she felt as vulnerable and utterly fucked as she undoubtedly was.

The intruder grinned wide enough for his teeth to peek through and he stepped closer, not breaking eye-contact as he adjusted to sit on the side of her bed. He was within arm’s reach, his massive hand resting on the comforter that covered her practically bare lower half from view. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that just yet, sweet Brandi.”

Bile climbed up the back of her throat at his choice of address, and at the spark of hunger she recognized in his eyes. She wanted to scream, to hope that her neighbors weren’t such sound sleepers that they wouldn’t hear, but she was absolutely certain she wouldn’t have the chance to make that much noise. He was too close. And quite frankly, she didn’t want to give him reason to put his hands on her. So she dug past her revulsion and her fear and latched on to the anger. “If you’re here to hurt me, then—”

“No, no,” he said immediately, even shaking his head. The motion drew her gaze briefly to a tear-like gap in his closest earlobe. “I’m here to have a conversation.”

She blinked, incredulity creeping in to join the mix of unagreeable emotions churning inside her.

He didn’t make her ask. “I’m aware you’ve … noticed me,” he said, holding her stare. “So I thought it was time to move on to the next phase.”

Dread washed through her, drowning out the anger and the incredulity and even most of the disgust. Oh crap. This was her stalker. Of course this was her stalker. Who else would be breaking into her condo at the ass-crack of dawn?

He moved a hand to her leg, latching a firm grip onto her calf through the comforter. “What matters isn’t who I am, it’s who I work for. And the people I work for have been waiting quite some time for the money your father owes them.”

Brandi sucked in a breath. “Are you serious right now?”

His grip tightened. “I’m very serious, sweet Brandi. I don’t want to have to hurt you, but not collecting that money is not an option. Understand?”

The anger surged back in full force, taking control of her body and her common sense. Brandi swung out, her fist making contact with her apparently unsuspecting intruder’s jaw. The angle was crap, but it startled him enough to rear back and therefore release her leg. She jerked away from his grasp and shouted, “Get the fuck out!”

“You little—”

He grabbed for her and Brandi twisted away, rolling off the far side of the bed. She was only wearing a shirt and panties, but fuck it, she wasn’t going to let that hold her captive. “I said get out!” Her phone was on the other side of the bed, of course. If she’d had a weapon, she’d have put it on that side, too, so she supposed not having one was just as well.

Her nameless stalker-turned-intruder rose to his full height and stalked around the foot of the bed, recognizing of course that there was only one way out of the room. Past him. “Don’t make me get rough now.”

Brandi launched back onto the bed, aiming to scramble across faster than she’d ever moved before. She wouldn’t even stop for her phone. Her keys were in her purse, which was in the living room. If she could reach that, she’d just run.

He was faster than he had any right to be for his size. He swung the side of his fist into her ribs in a clear warning.

The hit was still hard enough to knock the breath from her and drop her sloppily to her knees. Brandi gasped, one arm coming around her torso as not-old-enough memories collided together, threatening to override her awareness.

A hand twisted in her hair and hauled her back, forcing her head up. “Now, if you’ve gotten that out of your system, listen real close.”

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