Page 2 of Unforgettable Underboss

In my time following Enrico Masini around town, I’ve observed his stoic, diplomatic nature. He’s a fair man who holds himself to high standards. That’s not to say he can’t be vicious when necessary, but he’s not needlessly violent like so many other men I’ve encountered in my life.

I’m clinging to the hope that this man will… I don’t know. I don’t fucking know what I expect; I just know the last time I felt truly safe and taken care of was when Enrico checked in on all of us at the trailer park, brought us groceries, and fixed the properties damaged in the crossfire.

With one last meager pep-talk, I step out from my hiding spot in the alley across the street, ready to finally speak to the man I’ve never forgotten. I hold my head high and repeat my speech to myself once more.Mr. Masini, you may not?—

I’m suddenly jerked backward and spun around by a large hand on my sore shoulder. I barely have time to take a breath or wince in pain before a familiar voice grits out, “Why have you been following me?”

I’m hit with hazel eyes that feel impossibly like home. Enrico drops his hand from my shoulder, his gaze locking on mine. Dark brown eyebrows furrow in confusion as he looks me over, and something close to concern flickers in his multi-colored irises. I can’t look away. The intensity of his stare coupled with his towering frame has me frozen in place.

I try to open my mouth, but my jawtrembles before I clench my teeth together to keep from bursting into tears. Why can’t I think of a single word to say? What did I practice over and over in the mirror every night?

Enrico softens his stance, his shoulders relaxing slightly, though the hint of worry never leaves his sharp, handsome features.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low so only we can hear.

I pause before answering, every muscle in my body tense to the point of shaking. No words will come out, so I simply shake my head no. I’m not okay. I can’t remember the last time I was truly okay.

Enrico frowns and looks over my shoulder as if searching for a threat. “Are you in danger?” he asks, refocusing those hazel eyes on me. He doesn’t recognize me, but I could never forget his magnetic, all-consuming gaze.

I nod as the first tear falls down my cheek. Enrico’s eyes follow the tear, and he grunts in disapproval when he sees the mark I have from being shoved into a wall. A second later, the effortlessly powerful, strong Underboss slides an arm around my waist and tucks me into his side. The heat of his body washes over me, and I fill my lungs with his citrusy, spicy cologne.

Enrico pulls out his phone and makes a quick call, hardly saying more than five words before hanging up. He returns his attention to me, his eyes searching mine for… something. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but I hope I measure up.

A sleek, black SUV pulls up next to the curb, and Enrico opens the back door, motioning for me to get inside. I hesitate, not sure if this is some kind of trap. My mind spins with doubts, fear, and disbelief, making me lightheaded.

Enrico holds his hand out, calming the storm of emotion welling up inside me. He’s giving me a choice, which is something I haven’t been offered in a long damn time.

The decision is clear. I take a breath and wrap my hand around his, letting the man I’ve dreamed about for years usher me inside to safety.

2

ENRICO

Once inside the vehicle, I nod to the driver, and we take off toward the Caparelli compound. The young woman sitting next to me hasn’t said a single word, which is surprising, considering she’s been following me for at least a week now.

She’s not a particularly good spy or subtle in her stalking. I remember the first time I saw her standing across the street from my favorite restaurant. Something about her curves, wide, round eyes, and silky brown hair called to me. When I saw her at my usual coffee shop the next morning, I thought for sure I was imagining things, seeing what I wanted to see. After a few days, it became apparent the mysterious woman was following me, though I still don’t know why.

I had planned to confront her when I saw her creep up the alley next to Grimaldi’s. She didn’t notice when I slipped out the restaurant's back door and walked right up behind her. I was going to demand answers and grill her on who sent her and why. But then her green eyes met mine, pleading with me to protect her.

I could see the pain embedded in her soul, her despair resonating deep within my bones. It’s been a long time—a lifetime—since I’ve felt the kind of fear I saw in her eyes. It’s what drove me to climb up the ranks in the Caparelli family so I’d never feel trapped or powerless again.

For some reason, this woman singled me out in her time of need. I should probably be more suspicious, but there’s no way she’s faking these emotions.

Looking at her now, I’m even more curious and confused by her presence. She takes a shuddering breath, her curvy little body trembling as she wraps her arms around her stomach and angles her body away from me. I get the sense she doesn’t want me to see her like this, so vulnerable and broken.

When her soft sobs reach my ears, my chest tightens to the point of pain, making it hard to breathe. I need to comfort her, but fuck if I know how to do that. Comforting others isn’t a skill set I’ve ever utilized in my many years as the second in command of the most powerful crime family in Vegas.

Still, I have to do something, anything to ease her pain. I reach out and lay my hand on her shoulder, horrified when she winces and bites back a whimper of pain.

“Are you hurt?” I ask.

She doesn’t say anything, which is answer enough.

“Jesus,” I mutter. I suspected as much when I saw the scratches on her cheek, but clearly, the extent of her injuries is deeper than that.

We ride in silence the rest of the way to the compound. When the driver pulls into my driveway, I leap out of the back seat and sprint to the other side of the car. I’m insanely protective of this woman without even knowing her name.

Opening her door, I’m hit with another wave of anger at her tear-stained face, complete with a swollen cheek. Whoever did this to her is living on borrowed time. I’ll make sure they never have the opportunity to hurt her or anyone else ever again.

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