Page 38 of Mafia Kingdom

Buddy dances around my feet before darting forward, eager to explore. I let him lead me down one of the stone paths, conscious of the security men keeping a discreet distance behind us. They're giving me space, but there's no doubt they're watching my every move.

We follow the path to a small rose garden enclosed by neatly trimmed hedges. Stone benches offer a place to sit and admire the blooms, which range from deep crimson to delicate pink. I settle on one of the benches, unclipping Buddy's leash so he can sniff around the enclosed area.

The morning sun warms my skin, and I tilt my face upward, closing my eyes. For just a moment, I can pretend I'm somewhere else—somewhere normal, somewhere safe. But the illusion shatters when I open my eyes and see the high stone wall that surrounds the entire property. It must be at least twelvefeet tall, with security cameras positioned at regular intervals. A beautiful cage is still a cage.

I'm so lost in thought that I don't notice the man approaching until he's almost upon me. He's massive—nearly seven feet tall with shoulders like a bull and a neatly trimmed goatee. Despite his size, he moves with surprising grace.

"So you're the one causing all the fuss," he says, his voice a deep rumble that seems to reverberate in my chest.

I stand quickly, instinctively calling Buddy to my side. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met."

He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes, which remain cold and assessing as they travel slowly down my body. "Gerald," he introduces himself with a slight bow that feels mocking. "I work for Marco's father."

Something about the way he says it makes my skin crawl. There's an implicit threat there, a reminder that Marco isn't the only power in this family.

"I'm Sasha," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. "And this is Buddy."

Gerald barely glances at the dog. "Marco's never brought a woman home before," he says, taking a step closer. "Not one he didn't intend to dispose of, anyway."

My blood runs cold at his words, but I refuse to show fear. "Is there something you need, Gerald?"

He chuckles, a sound like stones grinding together. "Just curious about the girl who's got Marco Walsh wrapped around her little finger. The boss has a soft spot for you, doesn't he?"

The way he says "soft spot" makes it sound like a weakness, something shameful. He takes another step toward me, close enough now that I can smell his cologne—too strong, too sweet.

"I wonder what makes you so special," he muses, reaching out as if to touch my face.

I step back, my heart hammering. "I'm not special. I'm just repaying a debt."

Gerald laughs again. "Is that what you tell yourself?" His eyes flick to the security men, who I realize with growing dread have moved farther away, seemingly absorbed in their own conversation. "Maybe I should find out what Marco sees in you."

Buddy growls, sensing my distress. Gerald ignores him, taking another step forward, backing me against the stone bench.

"That's close enough, Gerald."

Marco's voice cuts through the garden like a blade. I turn to see him striding toward us, his expression thunderous. I've never been so relieved to see anyone in my life.

Gerald's demeanor changes instantly, though the smile he offers Marco is anything but sincere. "Just getting acquainted with your guest, Marco. No harm in that."

Marco stops a few feet away, his posture deceptively casual, but I can see the tension coiled in every muscle. "Sasha," he says, not taking his eyes off Gerald, "take Buddy and go back to the house."

"But—"

"Now." The word leaves no room for argument.

I hesitate for a second, then tap my thigh again, and Buddy follows me back toward the house. As I pass Marco, he touches my arm briefly—a quick, reassuring gesture that steadies me more than it should.

I don't go straight to the house. Instead, I stop just out of sight, behind a large ornamental shrub, my curiosity overcoming my better judgment.

"I told you to stay away from her," Marco says, his voice low and dangerous.

Gerald's response is equally quiet but laced with insolence. "Your father sent me to check on things. He's concerned about your…distractions."

"Sasha isn't a distraction. She's under my protection."

"Protection?" Gerald scoffs. "Is that what you're calling it now? The men are talking, Marco. They say you've gone soft over some girl."

"The men should be more careful about what they say," Marco replies, his tone sending a chill down my spine. "And so should you."

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