Page 24 of Inevitable

“Did I stutter?” I growl back.

“No, Boss. Yes, Boss. I-I will get those together and sent out by the end of the week.”

“Tonight,” I snap.

I am about to hang up when he calls out to me. “Uh Boss, there is one other thing.”

His tone seems nervous, as he probably should be. This news has royally pissed me off and I have run out of patience for the day.

“What?” I spit.

“They attacked the little sparrow before it opened this morning as well. All of the staff were killed, including Marco. They cleared out the money and lit the place on fire. You will probably be getting some heat about it all soon.”

I hang my head. The police poking their noses into my business is unfortunate but the loss of all those good people is what gets me. Marco was the owner of the little sparrow, a bar that was for all intents and purposes, Mariano property. We shelled out the investment money for him and in exchange he cleaned our cash for us when needed.

He was a good man with a wife of 40 years. They had 8 children and at least 15 grandkids. He was a true immigrant that made something of himself in America. To be so carelessly taken out makes my blood boil.

“Kill them all, do not hesitate. Get a new crew together for your area and hunt those motherfucker’s down. They cannot mess with us. I won’t allow it. Handle this before I kill you and handle it myself.”

I end the call before he can respond and blow out a heavy breath. How the hell could the Farelli have gathered that much more resources in such a short amount of time. We have to make moves on them now. Taking down almost a dozen of my men in our territory? Unacceptable. The streets will be bathed in blood soon enough.

I walk in through the door and Marisol sees me, hurrying to take my jacket from me.

“Marisol, I need to speak with…” I stop mid-sentence and sniff the air. “What is Luis cooking?”

“He isn’t, Boss. Miss Ashlynn is,” she says quietly, never quite meeting my eyes.

“Why? If she was hungry then Luis should have made something for her.”

Marisol just shrugs. “She insisted.”

Confused, I walk into the kitchen following the familiar smell that I haven’t enjoyed in years. Then I see her standing there, pulling out a fresh pan of Lasagna from the oven. I look over to the breakfast table and see that it is set for two with a fresh salad and a basket of bread sticks waiting.

She is so beautiful, and I can’t help but warm at the sight of her in my kitchen. Her hair is in a high sleek ponytail, her face only has light traces of makeup that enhances her natural beauty. She is wearing a pair of dark jeans with a white lace top that makes her look like an angel, my angel. But then I remember this is why I had to get the hell away from her last night. Since the night at the pond my thoughts have been out of control, I can’t trust myself around her. Last night I was 2 seconds away from stripping her bare and never letting her go.

I bury the rising feelings and put on my indifferent mask as I look at her with an eyebrow raised.

“What are you doing?” I ask, attempting to sound cold but coming across more curious than anything.

“Ah!” She jumps at my voice and almost drops the pan. “You scared the shit out of me.” She accuses and I shrug.

“I uh, was hungry and bored. I was thinking about Luciana a lot today and I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything she taught me, I guess.” She quietly trails off appearing embarrassed.

“This is her recipe?” I ask, glancing at the dish in front of me. It sure smells like mama’s and it even looks like it too. She remembered her recipes after all these years?

“Yes, remember all of the time I use to spend in the kitchen with her? You were always there, fixing things that seemed to be working perfectly fine.” She teases with a hint of a smile.

I smirk at the memory. It’s because I was trying to find any excuse to get another glimpse of her, just to be in the same room as her. I guess I wasn’t as sly as I thought I was.

“Anyways,” she starts up again. “I just thought it would be nice to make it again.” She smiles softly and shrugs.

“I agree, who is the other place setting for?” I ask, trying to play it cool.

“Oh, my date. He should be here any moment.” She says as she starts cutting the lasagna and dishing it on to the plates.

My face turns to stone and my heart constricts. Her date? In my house? Who could she have met? One of my men? The next man that walks through that door is getting a bullet between the eyes.

All of the sudden she bursts out laughing. I look up at her sharply, confusion coloring my features. She is doubled over with tears streaming down her face, cracking up.

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