Page 12 of Claimed By Him

“We need constant surveillance of our turf. Put some of the boys and a few retired soldiers on the corners and in the windows along the bordering streets of our territory. Chances are our clients aren’t heading too far away from home to buy.”

Don Enzo nodded in agreement, speaking in a low but definitive tone. “Spread the word. Our people will help. Whether they’re on the payroll or not, they’ll help.”

Luigi agreed. “They enjoy their protection from the Romano soldiers. They’ll do everything they can to stop this scum from infiltrating our streets. Who knows what they’ll bring in next.”

“Or take out.” I pinned my eyes on Luigi. “You tell all the mothers and fathers out there that Colombians have a taste for trafficking young girls. That’ll get ’em on their guard.”

We discussed a few more points before moving on to personal matters. My father knew Luigi’s parents since before he was born, so we spent another half hour smoking and catching up on family life before he left.

As he ducked out the door, I saw Ace standing outside against my car and knew that was my cue. He often appeared out of nowhere, having walked over to meet me from some chick’s apartment most of the time.

“You good Papà? I’ve gotta head out. I’ll get your driver to pick you up, alright?”

“Yeah, Tony. Listen,” he held my arm before I left, “you’re a good boy. You handled that well. I’m proud of you.”

I clenched my jaw. He hardly ever spoke like this before. It felt like he was expecting me to step up to the throne tomorrow when all I wanted to do was take a break from all this and get some fucking fresh air. I felt smothered. Forced into a job I wasn’t entirely sure I even liked.

“Thank you, Papà.” I leaned down and kissed his cheek before he waved me away.

“Ey,” I greeted Ace, who handed me a cigarette since he was lighting one up himself. “Thanks.”

He nodded coolly. Ace was a quiet guy. This made him perfect for his job because he tended to spend more time in the shadows, watching, instead of acting out. I borrowed his lighter and lit up my cigarette, then stood back to let a group of kids run past us on the sidewalk in some kind of chase.

“I see Lu’s got a new girl,” Ace mumbled, looking out over the street where Luigi was getting into his car, but there was no girl with him. “She’s been out with him most nights at the club.”

I nodded, thanking him. These were the things that didn’t come in a job description but were valuable pieces of information when he offered them up. “Have Luke check up on her background.”

“Sure, boss.”

Luke was another Romano cousin who acted as our hacker whenever we needed one. Ace, of course, knew the guy rather well. He was a recluse, always in the darkness of his room with his computers running. It was no surprise that Ace felt at home visiting him.

“Can never be too careful.” I scanned the street, pulling on my smoke, and focusing on far-off corners, doorways, and windows. It was normal to be stared at in curiosity—especially when you look the way I do. But I always needed to make sure those curious eyes weren’t following me when I moved away.

“Let’s get going.”

The night was coming soon, and we had places to be, people to meet up with, and girls to chat up. I got into the driver’s seat of my Dodge and Ace slid into the passenger side. We opened the windows and rolled into the street.

I saw a girl wearing pink and immediately assumed it was Fiona. I sat up in my seat and tipped my head as I drove past, trying to catch a better glimpse of her. It wasn’t Fiona. I rolled my eyes at myself and focused on the road.

It was dubious times like these when I felt like breaking away from my responsibilities and watching Fiona with her friends. Her protection was my excuse, but the thoughts that came with watching her late at night was the real addiction. It was like a bad habit that turned into a coping mechanism.

This compulsion I had to always know where she was and if she was okay at all times ate away at my subconscious. At least I knew that was one thing I did enjoy about my job—keeping tabs on gorgeous women. Even if it was only her, even if it wasn’t actually my job. At least it was something I knew I enjoyed. The more I thought about her, the more explicit my thoughts became. Fuck, I wished I could do so much more than just watch her. That part of me that started to wonder what she’d look like naked was shoved down again.

This was the problem. My head wasn’t straight. How could I become Don Romano when I had this immense weakness for a girl that wasn’t even mine?

I enjoyed the fun that came with this mafia life—money, power, sex. But I had this nagging, deep-set feeling that those vices wouldn’t hold in the long run. I needed something more meaningful to fight for. I had a lot of pressure on me, not only from my father but from all Romano constituents—to always do the right thing, act the right way, and be the fairest leader, no matter how gray the situation was.

But truthfully, how could I be a good leader if all I wanted to do was break those rules? To not give a fuck what the Morettis say and take their princess for myself? Huxley would lose his fucking mind if I did that; Fiona was his precious little sister, and he’d fucked guys up before when they’d commented on how well she’d grown up. He and I had our differences before, so I didn’t doubt that he would go 10 times harder on me. Although, I had no doubt that I could win a fight against him. He was a big and strong boxer, but I was faster and lighter on my feet. I’d have sliced his chest three times before his first punch landed on my jaw.

Of course, I knew that wouldn’t help anything with my father or with Fiona, so I threw the thought to the back of my mind once again.

7

Fiona

Three years ago, age 17

“Freddie!” I charged out the door and into the driveway where Freddie was already disappearing toward his car in the street. I’d hardly managed to get my zipper up, and I was still straightening my dress at my thighs.

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