Page 20 of Mafia Wars

He takes another look at Luna and my fingers instantly tighten around hers, letting her know she’s safe.

My father is old school mafia, and I know he can come across as extremely intimidating, but I want Luna to feel safe.

“This is Luna, whom I told you about, my girlfriend.” I tug Luna gently, so she comes to stand beside me.

“It’s nice to meet you.” My father clears the distance and holds out his hand.

Luna glances at me before she takes it and gives his hand a light shake.

He nods at her before his focus is back on me.“The gang wants retribution. They want the girl back.” His gaze flickers to Luna, then back to me. “I told them no.”

My stomach knots, but I nod. “Good.”

“You understand what that means?” he asks, his tone hard.

I meet his eyes. “Yeah. It means we fight.”

He nods once, approval mingled with resignation. “Okay, so now we fight this war. Do you understand?”

“I do.” My voice doesn’t waver. I can’t afford it.

His gaze shifts to Luna again, softer this time, before he looks back at me. “Don’t leave the house. They’ll have shooters ready to take you out. Sit tight until you hear from me.”

“Got it.”

He doesn’t linger. He turns on his heel and walks out, the door shutting behind him with a finality that echoes through the house.

Luna stands frozen, her face pale. I step closer, placing a hand on her arm.

“You’ll be okay,” I say.“I’ll make sure of it.”

She nods, but her eyes stay on the door, as if expecting it to burst open any second.

CHAPTER TEN

LUNA

THE AIR FEELS heavier tonight, like the world knows something is about to crack open. I pace the length of the living room, biting my thumbnail and trying—and failing—to makesense of the storm inside me. Sara is back at work and each time she passes the living room that I have stayed in, I quickly turn away so I don’t meet her questioning gaze. She doesn’t seem to dare enter. Right now, I don’t even know what to say to anyone. I’ve texted Becca to tell her I’m still staying over at Cian’s but she sent back emojis of love-hearts making me smile for a brief moment.

Cian’s face flashes in my mind—the way he had held my hand in front of his father, the flash of intensity in his eyes when he was trying to protect me. He’s trying so hard to protect me, but I know I’ve brought this all upon myself, and hearing his father say they were going to war makes me feel sick to my stomach.

I drag a hand through my hair and sink onto the couch. “Get it together, Luna,” I mutter. But even as the words leave my mouth, my heart pulls in two directions. One part wants to surrender, to admit that I’m falling for Cian—falling hard. The other screams at me to remember who I am. I’m his cleaner who wants to stay in this lavish life.

My ex’s father, Richard Fitzsimons, is a name that makes me curl in on myself. I’ve met him a few times and each time Iwanted to run away from him. I had the feeling he wasn’t a good man, but to find out he’s the leader of some powerful gang is frightening, and the fact he wants me, like he knows I’m the reason his son is dead, makes him all the more terrifying. But the thought that he is planning to attack Cian has me knowing I need to do something.

I need to ring him. My phone sits on the coffee table, mocking me with its silence. Call him. Try to reason with him. I already know I can’t, I don’t have the man’s number. I could go back to the apartment and find Mark’s second phone that he keeps along the side of his recliner in the living room.

Cian was warned by his father not to leave but only an hour after his father left, he promised he would be back shortly and warned me to stay here.

But, I can’t sit around and do nothing.

The staff kitchen smells faintly of coffee and bleach, a clash of the comforting and the clinical. Sara is leaning against the counter, scrolling through her phone with one hand while the other cradles a steaming mug. I hesitate in the doorway, my hand tightening around the edge of the frame. She hasn’t noticed me yet. Good. I need a moment to piece together the lie—something plausible, easy to say, easier to believe.

“Sara?” I step inside, schooling my face into something neutral. Friendly, even.

She looks up, her brow lifting as if she’s surprised to see me, fair enough I have been avoiding her. “What’s up?”

“Can I borrow your car?” The words tumble out too quickly, too rehearsed. I force a small laugh to soften the urgency in my voice. “Just for a quick run. I’ll have it back before your shift ends.”

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