Page 67 of Runaway in the Mafia
But I only had to take two steps into the room before I knew my instincts had been right. The aroma of spice and cedar. Sweet and mellow. A burn that touched me like an open flame. The room was shrouded in darkness. Not a single movement or sound that gave him away. But all my senses shackled up like he stood an inch from me. My pulse slowed, came to a stop, then picked up the pace and thumped madly like a tribal drum.
This man. He shouldn’t affect me like that.
The weight of consequences slammed into me. I leaned against the door, my heart too weak. Tried to find some sort of reality to ground me. I was both relieved and furious that he’d found me. He made me feel safe. Stronger. Wilder. Like I could stamp down the world and he’d still pick me. But he was also a loose cannon. One I couldn’t allow anywhere near my family. He didn’t seem like the type to care for an old man’s health or reputation.
“You going to come in or you going to paste your ass to that fucking door?” His voice was low, hot, and tight. Tension vibrated within it.
Click.
The warm light on the nightstand lit up. It highlighted the only thing worthy of a show. The man draped on the armchair next to it. Like he was the attraction. The only spectacle of the show. His audience. Me. Only me.
The small shoulder bag I’d been carrying loosened on my fingers and slipped to the floor. A heavy sigh filled the room. Mine.
As if running away from one man wasn’t enough, I had two on my back. The difference was that I craved this one. He made my heart all jittery. Made my pulse skyrocket to places it shouldn’t entertain.
“Well?”
The room was as dark as my mood. Dark wooden floors and wine-red walls. But nothing was as dark as the gloom hanging across the room. Hidden by a thick smoke cloud and dressed in an ink black suit. No one in their right mind would take a step in that direction.
I took a step in his. Because he was a lot of things, but he always made me feel safe.
“I’m not even going to ask you how you found me.”
“You should. Because I’m going to fucking ask you why you ran away.”
“Fine.” I took another step in. I was still in the little hallway. He was at the far end next to the window. “Tell me.”
“No,” he growled. “The rules changed. You first.”
My words strangled on their way out. The room throbbed with dark energy. I remained where I stood, and he didn’t move an inch. But it felt like he’d put his hands on my throat and attempted to squeeze the truth out of my windpipe.
This man. He wasn’t the type to give me a shoulder to cry on and walk away. He looked more the type to burn my world withthe flip of his Zippo and his cigar on the other end. Burning my world wasn’t an option when I had Papa and Amara in it.
“Come here.” His voice was rough.
And I did. Another step in. The light from the lamp illuminated my face dimly. Whether he liked it or not, remained in doubt because he ran his hands over his face and growled angrily.
“Your defiance isn’t funny anymore.”
“Was it ever funny?”
He looked to the left. Teeth grinding. Jaw tight. Pulse ticking. A single drop of ash fell from his clenched fist to the hardwood floor between his legs. He, of course, didn’t care about damaging property.
“Don’t you feel it?” His tone was soft.
“What?”
His gaze jerked to mine. Eyes flashing. “You’re all over me. I can’t think without you. I drove like a madman all the way over here to get you. I can’t function without you.”
“You always drive like a madman.”
“Shut the fuck up.” His voice was hard. Harsh. The sharp lines of his face, steel sheets illuminated by orange light. “Don’t you feel it?”
I couldn’t give in. “I can’t.”
His head cocked to the side, and one brow rose. “Can’t?”
“I’m not free to—”
