Mafia's Devil parts 15 & 16

Here are 2 chapters!

“No. You cannot come to my—”

I hang up on him and hop so high I clap my feet together. This is a crucial step toward getting closer to Luciano. I’ll give him some meds, make him some soup, pet his hair, and cuddle with the big bastard. He’s so grumpy that he needs a cuddle or two.

When was the last time he got affection? I don’t think he goes to his mommy after work hours with his gun still smoking from shooting the latest gangster. I’m no psychology expert, but I think that having him in this vulnerable state let him bond. It’ll be hard for Luciano to act like an intimidating bully when he’s a coughing, sweating mess under my caring hands.

I rush back inside. “Dad, I’m going to do some shopping and I’ll probably sleep over at Manny’s place!” I yell as I barge into my room and begin packing. My father will be pleased that I’ll finally step out of my room and get some vitamin D. He doesn’t have to know that Vitamin D is attached to Luciano Genova.

I grab my wallet and pack overnight clothes. I stop by a drugstore and buy some over-the-counter meds to treat Luciano’s fever along with some menthol. Then, I go to a supermarket to grab ingredients for the soup. Knowing Luciano, he probably lives off Whiskey and the corpse of his enemies. I don’t think he cares about keeping his seasonings stocked.

My driver drops me off on Manny’s block. I have to be smart about how I sneak around, but I guess luck has been on my side so far because my dad hasn’t caught onto my many encounters with Luciano.

After telling my driver to pick me up the following day because I’ll be sleeping at Manny’s place, I book a taxi to drive the rest of the way to Luciano’s place. I know exactly where his bedroom is, because last time I showed up through the auction, I ended up under his bed with his dick swinging above me like another one of his chandeliers.

I take in the huge, gated mansion and swing my bag onto my shoulder. One day, this house will be mine and I’ll leave Luciano sleeping in a cardboard box. All the sugar babies and gold diggers of the world will worship me when I rob this man blind.

I cross the road, and a grunt glances me over.

“Private property,” he says. I know that behind that black jacket of his is a gun ready to put me down. He thinks I’m planning on trespassing. I bet he’d love if I was a threat so he could neutralize me and get closer to a promotion.

Little does he know that his boss has kissed my lips with his own, kissed my ass with his meaty hand, and nearly kissed my forehead with his dick when I popped out from under his bed.

“Actually, I’m Luciano’s… errr, buddy.”

He raises an eyebrow. I’m no stranger to the underestimation.

With a sigh, I call Luciano.

“What are you doing on my property?” he rumbles.

“How do you know I’m here?”

“My men notified of a teenager or a midget approaching with a suspicious bag long before your short ass legs carried you across the street.”

I flip my phone so the grunt can see Luciano on the screen. “Your boss says to let me in.”

“No, I didn’t,” Luciano counters.

I smile at him. “If I throw a scene, will your men shoot me or manhandle me first? Want me to find out?”

“Karine…” he warns.

“I’m just trying to feed you and make you feel better. What’s wrong with that? Do you have a kink for people trying to kill you?”

“Let her in!” he finally erupts with irritation.

“And when will you come home?” I ask.

“Shut up, Karine. Stop pushing my buttons or I’ll have you thrown in the fucking dungeon.”

He has a dungeon? How typical of the beast. I bet he was born down there, too.

I hang up and smile as two men allow me inside. I walk onto the property, spotting a spiked gate instead of flowers. Luciano doesn’t much about making visitors feel welcomed.

Other than shooting curious glances, the staff I pass who don’t cross me. It seems like word spread fast and they’ve been informed that my access was cleared.

The staff wear black, grey, and white clothes. There’s no gossip or laughter coming from any inch of his creepy manor. Maybe Count Luciano Dracula banned all sound of joy because it burns his skin, or maybe these employees are actually kidnapping victims. I don’t see how anyone could voluntarily work around someone as hostile as Luciano.

I go to the kitchen to find a chef ruffling through a surprisingly stocked fridge.

“Hey, you can go home early. I’ll take care of tonight’s dinner. You only cook for Luciano, right?” I set my bags on the counter.

He nods and closes the fridge. “Yes, miss.”

He doesn’t know my name, and I have no plans of introducing myself. I was probably already identified and rumors are spreading, but I don’t want to confirm anything.

“Great. What does your troll— I mean, what does Luciano typically eat?”

“Italian food.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

I wash my hands, unload my bags, and start chopping vegetables. I’m rinsing when I hear obnoxious footsteps pounding into the house. It appears like the master has appeared, because only a suicidal man would make such a ruckus on Luciano’s luxurious tiles.

“Kuznetsov!“

“Genova,” I say cheerfully.

I turn just in time to find Luciano caging me against the counter. Before the tall jerk can begin his bickering, I take his tie and yank him down onto a stool. His hands reach out to steady himself and find my hips. He’s angrier now, but I shove a thermometer into his mouth.

His eyes widen, as if he can’t believe the audacity.

I raise a finger and scold him. “Hush.”

My free hand slides under the few strands of hair on his forehead. He’s piping hot. I’m not sure how he’s still standing.

“Jesus, Luciano. I know I call you the devil all the time, but I didn’t you were actually him in the flesh.”

He plucks the thermometer from his mouth and tries to stand. I only shove myself between his legs to keep him sitting. “No. Be good and stay still for once.”

“Sir?”

I look at the entrance and find another suit there. He looks baffled. His hand is at his hip, ready to smoke me up if Luciano gives him the word. Execution is probably the appropriate punishment for a person that came in here and disrespected someone as high tier as Luciano. I’m not just anyone, though.

Luciano lifts a hand, and I flinch before realizing he’s only dismissing his guard.

My eyes move from his hand to his eyes, and then to his lips. They’re set on a fine line, the thermometer hanging off the corner, but they don’t curse or scowl. He’s patient. Intense— always intense because every emotion this man feels is passionate, but he waits.

Our eyes lock, and it feels like his fever is seeping into my very flesh.

There’s a little beep and blink away from the pull of Luciano’s eyes.

“One-hundred and three degrees Fahrenheit. Yeah, that’s bad. You need to take these.” I slap meds on the counter and undo his tie. “You might need to call an actual doctor. Go shower.”

“What, are you going to bathe me, too?”

“Keep dreaming. Based on this fever, hallucinations are an hour away. Drink the pills. “I fix him a glass of water and wait expectantly.

He throws the pills back. “You’ve done your job of poisoning me, little doctor. You can leave now.”

“I’ll show myself out when I want to.”

“I’ll drag you out kicking and screaming, Karine.”

I’m sure he would if he was in the right shape, but his eyes are watery and his shoulders are sagged. I really don’t know how he made it this far into the day with a debilitating fever.

Ignoring him, I push his jacket off his shoulders. His cologne still clings to him, but the back of his collar and his armpits are damp with sweat.

“Go shower,” I insist with a touch to his chest. “I’ll finish the soup.”

I return to the stove, and frown when I don’t find the pepper. I look up at the cabinets. Way, way up because my constant bravados don’t seem to pepper my height. With no other option, I climb on the counter to reach the cabinets.

An arm snakes around my arm— Luciano’s.

“Why are you still here? You shouldn’t be lifting so much weight.”

“No more climbing.”

He’s panting. His breath is hot against the back of my neck.

“Roberto!” he calls out after setting me down. “Get her what she can’t reach. Don’t let her climb my fucking counter.”

“I wasn’t going to damage the countertop, I was just—”

“It’s not about the damn countertop, Karine!” he finally explodes. Fever or not, his face is turning redder and his veins starker. “You could break your neck, you short, pain in my ass.”

Seeing that he’s at a breaking point, I nod. “Okay, fine.”

He walks off, his jacket in his hand. He tries to walk on a straight line because he knows he always has eyes on him, but I know his arrogance so intimately that I know his shoulders aren’t as perked as they usually are. The fever is kicking his ass.

I finish in the kitchen and leave the soup cooking. It has been fifteen minutes, so I go to check on Luciano.

I knock on his bedroom door twice and then enter. He’s on his bed, only wearing pajama bottoms and writing on a notebook. The AC is on, bringing the room to a freezing point.

Luciano doesn’t turn away from his work, even when I step in.

“The food should be done in a few minutes. Are you sure you want to be working right now? You should rest.”

“It has to be done.”

I step closer to the bed and sink into the corner. That grabs his attention. He looks up at me and leans into his headboard. All I can think of is the dick print in the picture he sent me.

“Well, what are you working on?” I ask. I’m not even interested, but I have to keep his mind from kicking me out.

“Why don’t we leave the business to me and the cooking—”

“Genova, if you finish that sexist ass sentence, I’ll show you that I’m not only a chef but the daughter of an arms-dealing criminal.”

He chuckles and then coughs.

I take the opportunity to crawl to his side and touch his forehead again.

Luciano takes my hand from his face and pulls it to his chest. “Don’t distract me. I have to get this deal rolling.”

“Ah, so the numbers aren’t working out?”

“If you must know, it’s not the numbers. I’m offering the bastard a good deal. It’s something else. I just—”

“I know what it is,” I interject.

“Sure you do,” he deadpans.

I fist my hand over his right pectoral, which he doesn’t seem to realize he’s still holding.

“You’re not the friendliest person, Luciano. Tell me, how old is this guy?”

“I don’t have to be friendly. We’re here for business, not to sing around a campfire.”

“Would it kill you to show some teeth for any other reason other than to scowl? Have you ever smiled in life? And you didn’t answer my question.”

“The guy is thirty-five. Married with four brats. He’s goes golfing and hugs trees in his free time. We have nothing in common other than love for money.”

I roll my eyes. “Even if you did have things in common, you would hate him. Take Maksim, for example. You two are pretty similar, but would shoot each other at sight.” I lift my wrist. “Imagine I’m wearing a Rolex watch. Compliment it. That’s how easily you can get on someone’s good side.”

He pauses. “Why would I do that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why would I compliment that watch? It’s only a Rolex. Worthless.”

I laugh, because he truly is hopeless.

I sit beside him, our arms touching, and watch him do his thing. He’s scribbling numbers on a notebook. I can’t recognize the messy handwriting, but I can see the little drawings on the edges. It’s fruit and vegetables. I guess he drew those whenever he got stuck in thought.

Why food? Was he thinking of me?

He keeps writing until his hand slows, and the pen falls from his hand. I peek up and find his head lolling. He’s finally caving into his exhaustion.

Over the next few seconds, he sinks deeper into me until his head is on my shoulder. I stare, mesmerized, as the titan falls.