Page 37 of Mafia Boss

I pressed my lips together and swallowed hard, boiling heat crawling up my neck. I shook my head. “It’s not fun. It’s what needs to be done. I’d do that to anyone who tried to hurt you again. I’ll protect you.”

While her facial features softened just a bit, she shoved me away and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I don’t need your protection,” she sneered, yanking the blankets toward her and moving to the other side of the bed. “I’m not that little girl anymore. One who needs you to fight off the bad guys for me. I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself now.”

“There isn’t any shame in—”

“Stop!” she said, pulling the blankets over her head. “Stop. It is shameful. Everything that has ever happened to me is shameful. My own grandfather abused me for years, and I forgot about it.I fucking forgot about it, Cristian.” She glanced away. “Stop trying to be my savior.”

I moved closer to her and placed my hand on her hip, but she quickly pushed it away.

“I don’t need you. I-I can’t need you,” she whispered. “Stop being nice to me. I’m supposed to hate you.”

26

roxie

I stabbedmy pancakes with a fork, just like I wanted to stab my grandfather’s cold, dead heart. All last night, I couldn’t sleep because of him. I’d tossed and turned in the bed, throwing the sheets off me and then curling up into them. All those evil memories of my childhood haunted me. They had been stowed away for so long, just waiting for the day I unleashed them. Now, they were here, and they weren’t leaving.

Every place my grandfather had trailed his fingers, every curve, every crevice, every hole …

I felt it. I fucking felt it.

Grandma and my parents must’ve known what was happening, yet they had treated him like he had never touched me a day in his life, told stories about him after he died, like he was some sort of god. But that man had been nothing more than a cruel bastard who didn’t deserve to live.

It scared me to think that because that was how Cristian felt. And that was what had led Cristian to become the cold-blooded killer he was today. Was that how I was bound to end up? Killing people until my life ends, not caring for the families I was ruining?

The waiter at the restaurant we were at walked over to our table with a huge grin and refilled my glass of water. “How’s everything tasting? Anything else I can do for you, miss?”

“You can leave,” Cristian said quickly before I could answer, a jealous look on his face.

He’d even irked me, too, trying to be all cute and nice to me last night. It wasn’t who Cristian was, yet part of me … fucking loved it. I wanted to curl up into his arms all night and let him hold me. I wanted to wake up with my head on his chest and a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach.

But I was supposed to hate him for killing Ben.Supposed to.

After Cristian fell asleep last night, I should’ve left, like I’d promised him I would. Still, I’d found myself lying in bed next to the man I hated and feared the most, staring up at the ceiling fan spinning around and around and around and wondering if I evenwantedto leave anymore.

Now that I remembered who he was, I loathed the fact that I’d had the biggest crush on him when we were just kids. I had blocked out that entire part of my childhood and believed the lies my parents had spewed to me about my grandfather. I had forgotten everyone who had once meant the world to me.

My mind traveled to Willy—the poor boy we used to hang out with by the river—and I sucked in a breath. Had Cristian really killed him for kissing me during one stupid Truth or Dare game we played? We had just been kids at the time, no older than ten.

Cristian arched a brow from across the table. “What are you thinking about?”

I stabbed a sliced banana with my fork and glared at him. “Nothing.”

The waiter glanced over at the table again, and Cristian excused himself. I watched him clutch on to the man’s shoulder and whisper something into his ear, then disappear into one of the back hallways. I slumped down in my seat and pulled out my phone, glancing at Willy’s contact.

I dialed his number.

“The number you have dialed is not in service.”

When I tried to text him, the message didn’t even send. Though I didn’t want to think about my past anymore, I scrolled through my Contacts to find that one boy I had gone on a date with during my first year of college, the guy I’d had to push off me after he put his hand down my pants.

I called him.

“The number you have dialed is not in service.”

I swallowed hard and glanced at Cristian, who sat back down across from me, pulling down the cuffs to his white button-up shirt.

A new waitress came over and grinned at us. “How are we doing over here?”

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