Page 36 of Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss
Selfishly, I want to crawl into bed with Delilah. Not that I’d ever say that out loud. That fact is for me and me only.
“Here you go, dear,” she says, handing the boy the cup of tea.
“I didn’t realize we entertained the enemy, Marie,” I say, letting my annoyance show.
She turns to me and glares. “We do when they are just children. He is cold and soaking wet. Where are your manners? He’d talk easier in some dry clothes. The poor thing. He’s been through it. Can’t you tell?”
Marie rarely takes the time to tell me how she feels or what she thinks. She typically stays quiet, but right now, in her frilly apron tied around her back, her concerned eyes staring daggers at me, I realize she’s in mother mode.
Now, all the attention is on me.
The kid sips the tea and sighs, wincing when he licks the wound on his lip.
“Christ.” I tuck my hands in my pockets and motion for Ari. “Get him some of your clothes.”
“You can’t be serious. He’s not—” Ari is silenced when Marie cuts her stare to him, and he sighs, giving in. “Fine. I’ll be back. Unbelievable,” he mumbles as he heads down the steps. “We are Milazzo’s. We do not get fucking tea and clothes…” his voice trails off until none of us can hear him.
The slurping of tea has me looking down at the kid, and Marie is wrapping him up in the blanket as if he’s a baby.
“Okay, enough of this. This isn’t a fucking hotel.” I take the cup from his hands and set it on the table. Marie goes to say something, but one look from me, knowing my patience is up, and she quiets. “Kid, what’s your name.”
He’s still shivering, and he eyes the fire. “Can I sit close to the fire?”
“Sure, dear. Come on.” Marie wraps her arm around his shoulder and helps him up.
I lift my arms in frustration, letting my guest get treated like family. “Are you warm and cozy now? Can we get started? I’m two seconds away from saying fuck it, pulling out my gun and putting it right between your eyes,” I tell him. “Marie is kind, and she will be the only kindness you experience here. You are nothing to me, kid. Do you understand that?”
He readjusts the blanket around himself and laughs. “You think I don’t know that? I didn’t mean anything to him either. I’m used to it—being unwanted. There’s nothing you can say to me that will scare me.”
I reach behind my back and pull my gun out from my waistband. Scratching my eyebrow with the barrel, I try to calm down. “Let’s start over. What’s your name? Why were you coming to see me?”
“You won’t kill me, right? I didn’t do anything. I swear. I was done with the Romanos. I wanted fair treatment, that’s all. I wasn’t going to snitch. I wasn’t, but I’m tired of being their punching bag. I can’t take it anymore.”
My heart…does something odd. It twinges. The parts I’ve let die are coming back to life. I find that I care this kid has been hurt, and I wouldn’t have before if it weren’t for Delilah. I can’t let it show.
“What’s your name?” I ask again, hating that I need to repeat myself.
“Ryan Romano,” he answers, flicking his eyes from me to the floor.
“You’re Ray Romano’s kid?” I jerk back, my instincts telling me this could all be a setup.
“I was—I’m not—I mean—No,” he says, lifting a shoulder. “He learned I wasn’t his son. My mother had an affair. He found out today.”
“We have that in common,” Ari decides to chime in.
I spread my arms out, questioning why he was speaking.
“What? I’m just saying. Our Dad was the same way. We have different moms.” He points between us.
“Could you give any more of our personal information out to a stranger?” Matias slaps him on the back of the head for me, reading my mind. I drag my attention back to Ryan.
“Ow.” Ari rubs the spot Matias hit. “I’m trying to find common ground.”
“Anyway,” I’m getting too tired for this bullshit, “my men were on their way to our docks, picking up merchandise, and that’s where they ran into you, correct?”
“Yes, Mr. Milazzo,” he says, his gaze flicking onto his cup of tea.
Feeling generous, I hand it back to him.
