Page 12 of Married with Mayhem

“I should be on a plane to Colorado to see Anni and the baby but instead I’m here at JFK Airport in the middle of this cyberattack madness and Daisy is in Atlanta making white truffle burgers and apparently whoever turned on the cyberattack also turned off all access to my money so can youpleasecome here and save me from airport hell if you’re not doing anything?”

I need a few seconds to process the jumble of words that were just dumped into my ear. Most are unimportant details. The only thing that matters is that Sabrina is here in New York.

And she needs me.

She takes my silence as a bad sign and panics. “Monte? Hello?”

“I’m here. And no, I’m not doing anything at all. Sit tight. I’m leaving right now and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The second the call ends, I get to turn around and face the fury of Rochelle Rossi. Her eyes are bulging and her lips are pressed into an irate line as she stands there gawking in her red lace push up bra.

“Sorry, I’ve got to go,” I say and shove my phone back into my pocket.

She sticks her hands on her bony hips. “So you’re just gonna bail on me to chase after this Sabrina slut?”

I highly doubt she’s even met Sabrina before. But hearing her talk trash like that still makes me want to growl.

“Shut up,” I mutter and grab my shirt. “Go cry about it to your future husband.”

She tosses her hair and puffs out her chest. “Just so you know, you won’t get another chance at this.”

“What a bummer. Where will I ever find more toxic pussy with the personality of acid?”

“Fuck you, Monte!” She flails around in search of something to throw and only finds a pool cue. She hurls it and the stick bounces off the card table before hitting her in the leg.

I pull my shirt on and head for the stairs. “Tell Stevie to give you a free slice of pepperoni on me for your trouble.”

“Fuck youuuuuu!” she howls again. The sound of her shriek chases me up the stairs. A crash soon follows, a sign she’s found something more substantial to throw.

My keys are right where I left them on the table. Nico is still there too, but now he’s busy sucking face with Livy. He removes his tongue from her mouth long enough to ask, “Where the hell are you going?”

“Airport pickup,” I say and snatch my keys just as there’s another distant bang. “Watch out if you go in the basement. A troll is on the loose.”

“What troll?” Livy asks with pink lipstick smeared on her chin. Nico cuts off more of her stupid questions with his mouth and I’m free to escape out the front door.

My car is parked two blocks away so this leaves me a few minutes sort through the complicated nature of my relationship with the damsel in distress.

In the era before the Barone and Amato mafia wars broke out, the two families had joined forces. One of my assignments was to shuttle Sabrina Barone around the city and keep throngs of horny men from drooling all over her.

In private, I constantly wrestled with the urge to jerk off to her. She never had a clue. I kept my thoughts to myself and my dick in my pants. The fact that Sabrina was the daughter of the spiteful mafia titan who called himself the Baron of Brooklyn would have been reason enough to behave, but I had other reasons too.

Luca Connelly is my best friend and he’s married to her sister. They are both very protective of Sabrina. Anyway, italways felt sort of sleazy to even think about corrupting her while I was supposed to be protecting her.

Yet I still wanted that girl something fierce and the temptation alone might have been enough to persuade me to take my chances.

If only Sabrina hadn’t been…Sabrina.

3

SABRINA

Iwas wrong. It is definitely not cooler standing out here on the concrete than it was hanging out in the middle of the congested terminal.

In addition to the typical sticky early summer heat, there’s a melee of vehicles competing for a spot to pick up fleeing passengers while cops and orange-vested airport workers make valiant efforts to direct the wild traffic.

My eyes stay glued to the haphazard line of cars in the hopes of spotting the ancient blue Chevy Impala that once belonged to Monte’s grandfather.

Then it occurs to me that I don’t even know if he’s still driving the same car.

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