Mafia's Devil part 18

KARINE

I throw together some omelettes just as Luciano comes downstairs, dressed in his typical suit.

I toss him a bottle of pills. “Take these again.”

He places the bottle on the counter beside the plates I prepared. “No. They make me drowsy. My driver will drop you off.”

I wipe my hands with a towel. Of course he’s being difficult first thing in the morning. Just to rouse him, I say, “great. Manny’s place isn’t far from here. I’ll go straight there.”

I’m not looking at him, but I can hear the predator in him when he grumbles, “what, is he your next patient?” He’s deeply bothered by Manny, because he wants to be the only man manhandling, kissing, and bickering with me.

“No. Manny is way too strong to get sick by a little stomach bug like you did. He’s so tall and strong that he drips testosterone.” I force a little sigh and fan my face. “Biceps thicker than my thighs, chest wider than life.”

The chest I’m imagining— Luciano’s, presses against mine. His hands remain fisted at his sides, but mine don’t hesitate from palming his chest.

“Yeah,” I squeeze his flat chest gently. “You’re nothing compared to—”

A hand flies out and cups my jaw, and a thick thumb slides into my mouth. It’s salty, strong, and it hooks onto my cheek to prevent speech.

“Say his name one more time,” he dares me. “One more time, and I’ll find him.”

His ego is bruised, his masculinity threatened.

I nick his thumb with my teeth and pull my mouth away. “Are you jealous?”

That accusation is met with a scoff. “Of course not,” he replies.

I know it’s a lie, though. I know because he retreats and is so lost in thought that he obeys and throws back two pills with a glass of water. He listened to me, and Luciano listens to no one.

He secures a button on his jacket as if to regain control of his leaking temper and repeats, “go home. I don’t want you here. Don’t call me, don’t message me, and don’t come back.”

I watch him go, and then drop my gaze to the breakfast I prepared. It was all for nothing, because Luciano seems to be fed up with me.

I guess I’ve overwhelmed him enough. Some progress was done last night, and it will be good if I step away and I let him miss me.

After packing my bag, I eat breakfast and clean up the kitchen. I call Manny back and stop by her place. She rambles on and on about her girlfriend, and it’s a welcomed change to hear about someone else’s love life.

Well, it’s not like I have one. I don’t like Luciano. I can’t. He’s supposed to be the one feeling for me. Although he does ungodly things to my blood pressure, I blame the effect on lust and anger.

I take a shower and borrow Manny’s clothes. We eat ice cream as we watch TV, and I introduce her to 1000 Ways to Die. She calls me a freak, and the rest of the day is spent laughing over old memories.

I’m on my second pint of ice cream when I get a text. I’m expecting it to be my father, but Luciano’s name appears on my screen. I scramble to unlock it.

Did you get home?

The text makes me smile, because he’s either jealous about the thought of me spending time with Manny or worried about my whereabouts. It has only been a few hours since I last saw him, and he’s already trying to establish communication after telling me to get lost.

I don’t reply. Of course I don’t. I need to drive him crazy to the point that he’ll come looking for me.

Will he? Am I getting too confident?

I type a few letters on the keyboard before deleting them. I have to trust my gut feeling. I started something between us, and now it’s Luciano’s turn to chase it.

Locking my phone, I toss it aside and keep chatting with Manny. I go home that afternoon. My father is home, and he welcomes me with a hug. I hug him back while knowing that I was in the arms of another man that very morning.

“How was Manny?”

“She’s as fun as always.”

I neglect to tell him I almost got her killed by teasing Luciano.

Our conversation ends there. My dad and I typically don’t have much to discuss. He has his gun trades and I— well, I had my restaurant. I’m a bit lost nowadays without it, but Luciano has become my new center of gravity. My little plot of revenge makes me feel like I still have a purpose.

I look at Luciano’s text again, and I smile to myself because I can’t believe I got this far.

It takes two more days before there’s another notification from the grump. He’s losing patience. I can tell because his midnight text was—

I asked you a question. 

There’s no angry emoji or anything. I think Luciano is too fierce to use cute little emojis and would smash his phone if he ever accidentally sent one.

I ignore this text just like I did the first one he sent two days ago. I have no idea how far he’ll take this, but I have to keep pushing.

I set my phone aside and keep scrolling on my laptop. Not even an hour passes before my phone starts ringing.

It’s Luciano. I close my laptop, set my phone on vibration, and send Luciano to voicemail. There’s no more notifications from him, but I still fall asleep with a smile on my face.

The sound of a loud boom wakes me up. I’m disoriented and tangled in my sheets, my hair betraying me by blinding me. I fall off my bed when I hear another gunshot and scream for my father.

“Get the fuck out of my sight!”

The command makes my blood turn icy, because that’s my father’s voice. He’s ordering someone away, and he rarely has visitors over.

I’m gaping at the top of the staircase when I find a bleeding Luciano at my doorstep. He’s wearing his typical suit. It’s navy blue, and his left bicep is spotted with red. Blood trickles down his fingers.

He looks… nonchalant. Unaffected by the bullet lodged in his arm like a true psychopath. He must be high off meds, or crazier than I thought!

“Dad, put that down!”

I run down the stairs, stumbling and skipping the last three, so I land on my hands and knees. My nightgown flutters around me as I scramble up and stand between the two men.

My dad just shot a mafia boss. That’s an offense deserving death.

“What are you doing here?!” I yell at Luciano. I know I should be de-escalating and not raising my voice, but my adrenaline and fear are making me act erratically.

His eyes remain on my father but I know he’s speaking to me when he replies, “you didn’t answer me.”

Did being ignored drive him so unnerved that he showed up here?

I make the mistake of looking behind him. There are four men in my yard, holding a gun and aiming at my father. This is a disaster.

“Disarm your men.”

He peers at my eyes, and I’m sure he finds a dumpster fire of fear. I can’t lose my dad.

“Please,” I repeat with a lower voice.

He raises a hand— a gesture for his men, and I spin to face my father. His face is as red as the blood pooling beneath Luciano.

“You too, dad. Unless you want to shoot me as well?”

“Get out of the way, Karine,” he insists, gun still aimed behind me.

“Please, think clearly.” I reach slowly for the weapon.

Luciano sets a hand at my hip to pull me out of the blast zone and uses his bloody hand to knock my father’s gun aside.

“You Italian mutt,” father glares.

“Call Maksim if you want,” Luciano says casually. “I need to speak with your daughter, and it’ll happen regardless if you and Kuznetsovs disapprove.”