Page 15 of That Time I Accidentally Took Over the Mafia

I hate him so much.

Too bad my “little pussy” hasn’t gotten the message, apparently.

Thirty minutes later, I’m stepping out of the shower, feeling slightly more human—just enough to remind myself that I don’t have to completely lose my mind just yet. I can always do that tomorrow.

As I reach for the towel, I catch a whiff of something... delicious? My stomach rumbles at the unexpected scent of food, and I find an empty motel room and a hot plate sitting on the bed when I open the bathroom door.

I dress quickly. Shockingly, not every pair of panties in the bag is crotchless, but I note the complete lack of pajamas, so I grab one of Jax’s t-shirts. It swallows me whole and covers my ass. And I will not be admitting how wonderfully it smells like him. And I absolutely did not pull the collar up to my nose and inhale his scent like it was air.

Muffled voices sound on the other side of the door—probably the guys, talking shop or whatever it is they do when they aren’t yelling at me. Not that I care. Cause I totally don’t… care, that is.

I look at the food. It’s cheesy pasta and a salad with an ice-cold Diet Coke. They even left me a glass with ice because I don’t like drinking from the can. They still remember what I like, even the little things. I scowl at the plate, knowing exactly who this came from, and I refuse to be impressed by it.

Enzo—methodical, meticulous—he doesn’t miss a detail. If something is needed, he’ll make it happen, no questions asked.

He probably knew I’d be too stubborn to eat with them. Maybe he just didn’t want me throwing a tantrum about it later. Either way, I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of knowing I’m eating. Even though they’ll figure it out the second they see the plate empty, I’ll still try to keep some illusion of control over this situation.

I shove the fork into the pasta, then my mouth, and it’s so fucking good I moan.

Immediately, Luca quiets as if he heard me.

As I take another bite, he resumes talking on the other side of the door. His tone is low and purposeful, like he’s discussing something critical.

"So, anyway, there's a trail of electronic info that’s not adding up," he’s saying. "I’m going to explore it more later. If I can connect the dots, we might have more answers."

I pause, my fork halfway to my mouth, narrowing my eyes. What the hell is Luca talking about? He’s been deep in his little tech world for years, so he could be talking about anything. It’s probably nothing related to my father’s death.

Then Enzo speaks up, his voice sharp with suspicion. "Something's off with Caputo’s death. It’s not making sense."

Okay, well, there goes that theory.

He sighs, and I hear the frustration in his voice. "Old allies are turning on each other. It doesn’t feel like just a power play. There’s something deeper happening here. I lost another fucking land deal that had been all but rock solid before. Now they suddenly have another buyer? No. It smells fishy, so we need to find the barrel full of bullshit and take care of it."

I eat while they talk. I’m sitting on the floor behind the door so I can hear better. If any of them opens the door, I’ll be squished like a bug.

When I’m done, I clean up my mess and put the tray on the dresser. The weight of the day presses down upon my chest as I lay on the motel bed, begging for sleep before Jax comes back.

It’s times like this I wonder if a mother would come in handy. Someone to run to who can say, “Oh, sweetheart, I know those guys are just cunt-wagons.”

Okay, maybe moms don’t say that specifically, but some sympathy would be nice. Someone to run to with open arms for some advice and no judgment. But I don’t even remember my mom.

I know her from photographs and old video recordings of family gatherings, but I have no memories of her on my own.

She went out on her sailboat—something she’d done a thousand times—when a squall rushed in on her. It took two weeks for them to find her capsized boat, but there was no sign of her.

What a terrible way to die. Drowning in an endless ocean. I close my eyes, feeling a little bit like that now myself.

I should suck it up and stop being a baby, but dammit, I want just a few minutes to feel pitiful for myself. I turn over, away from the door, hugging the pillow.

But I can’t let this pull me under the waves. It will grab hold of me and never let me go until it yanks all the air from my lungs. At the end of the week, if this threat is over, I will move on and get back to something normal. Make a life for myself again. I’ve already done that once, so I can do it again.

I’ll have to buy a new house since, apparently, mine is in splinters, but I can start over. I just need to make sure these men don’t drive me to the brink of my sanity in the meantime. Which will be an accomplishment if we’re being honest with each other.

As I drift off to sleep, I think of my mother again, her face soft and kind in the photos. And for the first time in a long time, I wish she were here to tell me how to keep my head above water.

The moonlight filters into my bedroom, and it’s hotter than it should be for this time of year. I should open a window, but I can’t bring myself to get up—not with the expert tongue currently lapping at my pussy. I’m naked, a light sheen of sweat covering my body.

“Please.” The word escapes me in a breathy plea, though I’m not even sure to whom. My back arches, and my hand trails up my stomach, pausing to trace the curve of my breast.

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