Page 16 of Hustler in the Mafia

They take one look at this woman sneaking around the house yelling for trouble, there’d be a crimson hole where her heart was before I could even think of reaching for my gun. Which was fucking why I’d told her to stay inside the house.

Fuck!These feelings. I hated it. It was like watching my heart go for a ride on the highway, leaving me behind. Anger coursed through me for putting herself in this position. The sight of her half under the table, amidst broken pieces of a fucking vase and Antonio with murder in his eyes and a gun within reach, had been enough to take ages off my life.

I’d been surprised I hadn’t keeled over and died. Instead, I had stood up to him and tested a lifelong friendship. It was high fucking time I started praying because the man above must have put me in his good books.

My nails dug into her wrist as I pulled her along the gravelly path. I had half a mind to shove her onto the ground and whip her ass right here out in the open air. Did she have a fucking death wish? What the fuck was she thinking? My breath came out in gasps, and by the time the front door flew open in my house, I’d worked myself up for a fucking war.

I pulled her through the hall and pushed her into the living room. The front door banged shut, creaking angrily on its hinges. This woman was one day going to cost me a house, and then we’d fucking both be homeless.

Safely inside, I let my anger roll. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

She glared at me with murder in her eyes. What the fuck was she angry for? Rage gushed inside my body like blood spurting from a bust vein. She couldn’t have felt it because she made to move away, and I shoved my feet to block her. “Talk. Now.”

“It was going to happen, anyway.”

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.What did I fucking miss?“What’s going to happen?”

“You were going to throw me out,” she huffed, her shoulders stiff, arms crossed.

Again. What did I fucking miss?“When did I say that?”

“You didn’t, but you were going to, anyway.”

“Don’t you dare put fucking words in my mouth. Why would I even do that?”

“Because you’ll tire of me!” Her words darted across the room, hit the hard planes of each wall, and shot right into my heart. Her pain was so evident it was tangible, like a thick concrete barricade circling around her. My anger sputtered and ebbed.

“Why would I do that,la mia cocco?” I asked her softly.

She blinked and squeezed her hands tightly to her stomach. “You tell me.”

I stared at the woman in front of me. She tried to hide behind filthy clothes, but her warm heart was custom-made for me, like one of those fine suits Antonio loved. She was the fucking heat to my cold nights and the comfort to my lost days. Couldn’t she see she was the one?

She took a step back and frowned at the look on my face. A nervous laugh bounced off her and echoed in the silent room. “What?” She shuffled with her feet. “You love me or something?”

“Or something,” I said roughly. I stepped towards her, and she backed away.

“No.” She shook her head.

“You can’t tell me how to feel,la mia cocco.”

“Stop calling me your fucking coconut.” One step back, and I moved one forward. “I am not your fucking anything.”

“You are my fucking everything.”

“No. No. No.” Her fisted hands dropped to her sides.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” I whispered softly.

Another step back, and she pleaded with her big brown eyes. “Just let me go.”

“Never.” I crowded her and walked her towards the wall. Before her next breath, I’d shed her frumpy clothes and shoved her face first towards the rough wall. I pushed my mouth near her ear and muttered angrily, “I’ll never let you leave. Don’t you remember? You promised the first day we fucked that you’ll never leave.”

Her shoulders shook with tears, and her voice whimpered, “I don’t deserve you.”

My hands trembled as I unzipped and pulled my dick out. Emotion crowded my throat. “Oh,la mia cocco,I am the one who doesn’t deserve you. The only reason for you to leave is if I am unworthy.” My hands clenched around her ass as I rubbed my face on her neck. “Do you think I am unworthy of you?” Iasked, even though the juvenile in me just wanted to demand that she stay.

“No,” she yelled brokenly, and relief fuelled my heart.

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