Page 26 of Crazed

A Bob Marley reggae song comes on. I don't know the name but know it's his. He's singing about if you could be loved.

How ironic. I finally get it and can't keep it.

"Dolce?" Massimo questions.

"What do you want to do?"

Massimo turns up the music and sings, "Oh no!"

I smirk. "I didn't know you were into reggae."

Massimo acts insulted. "It's island music."

"O-kay. And you know we live in New York?" I tease.

His grin widens. "Yep. Which is why I want to do what I want to do."

"What's that?"

"Take you to a hot, secluded beach, rub suntan lotion all over you, and serve you fruity drinks." He checks the lane to his left and guns the engine, flying past several cars and semis.

My butterflies go crazy. I've never gone on vacation with anyone except my father, which was years ago and only a few hours to a lake in upstate New York. Time in the sun with no one around except Massimo sounds like heaven.

Leo will never allow you to leave New York.

Maybe I can convince him.

No way. He'd follow us.

I wonder if he's following us now.

Goose bumps break out on my skin. One thing I've learned is Leo's men are never far. Anytime I have a temporary lapse of memory and don't think about them, they show up.

"Well, do you want to go?" he questions.

"Sorry! That sounds amazing, I ummm..."

"What?" he inquires, furrowing his eyebrows.

I blurt out, "I have to work."

He snorts. "Take some days off. They must give you vacation days."

I honestly don't know what the vacation policy is with the library. Leo's men dropped me off the first day and introduced me to the manager. I didn't even sign any paperwork. I add, "I can't pay my bills if I don't work."

It's not a lie. The library pays very little. If Leo didn't supply my housing, I wouldn't be able to survive. I'm pinching pennies to buy food most days.

Massimo shrugs. "Not a problem. I'll give you money."

I turn my head toward him. "What? I can't have you paying my bills."

He moves from the third lane into the first then zooms past several vehicles and ends up in the fourth. He looks at me, his lips twitching. "Dolce, you know I've got money, right?"

I roll my eyes. "Duh. I'm not stupid, Mr. Ferrari."

He chuckles. "Okay. So, no offense, but I doubt whatever you make in a month would even make a dent in my bank account."

"Ouch," I reprimand, but I know he's right. Still, I may have been put in my position by the Abruzzos, but I take pride in my work. Even though I don't have to worry about my brownstone, I still want to be independent. I want to know that I can support myself and I don't have to rely on anyone.

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