Mafia's Devil part 10

LUCIANO

With Karine in my arms, I walk out the backdoor to my awaiting SUV. I realize she doesn’t weight a thing. The last time I held her was when I found her under my bed and hauled her up. Back then, I was too angry about her invasion to forecast how easily I could’ve hurt her.

I don’t like the direction of my thoughts. It’s not guilt I feel, but alert. Instead of searching the shadows for armed men that want to put me six feet under, I’m planning how to maneuver Karine so my bulk doesn’t harm her. Those thoughts aren’t self-preserving, and therefore they’re irrational. I have more important things to think about, but here I am carrying the enemy as if she’s made of glass.

What I should do is drop her in the nearest trashcan. Maybe then she’ll learn a thing or two about staying away from my territory.

“Boss?” the manager of the club comes to me.

“Wrap the night up. I’ll call you in an hour with further instructions.”

I slide into the SUV and place a trembling Karine beside me.

“Hotel,” I tell my driver, while keeping my eyes on her. Her thighs spill out of her dress now that she’s sitting down. It’s illegal in at least three countries.

“Tell me what you saw in the club,” I command.

The sooner I get the details, the sooner I can take care of the situation and get rid of her.

Karine’s eyes are frantically looking out the window. I don’t think she realizes that her hand is reaching for me. What is she searching for in my scarred hand? Comfort? She’ll be disappointed when she only finds a clenched fist desperate to crush my parasitical attachment.

She covers my hand and squeezes, still looking out the window.

I’m so uncomfortable that I want to hop out of that exact window and hope that a wheel crushes my skull so I can escape this spotlight. I’m not Karine’s knight in shining armor. I’m the grim reaper.

“Sorry,” she tells me in a small voice. “I don’t mean any trouble. I was just scared.”

A thought comes to life like a small flame. Something is off about this. Karine dared to sneak into my bedroom to pull a prank, knowing that I’m a man capable of doing more than publicly humiliating her.

She has more spine than most men have balls. Why did a stranger’s harassment shake her up so much?

That flame exhausts when she looks at me with big, teary eyes. I forget all about it.

“Whatever,” I grunt. “Sleep it off at a damn hotel. I’ll look at the cameras and see what I can do.”

“Luciano?”

“What?”

“Can you hold me? Please?”

The car swerves when my driver loses momentary control of the car. It’s a slight reaction to what I would have done if I had been behind the wheel. The car would likely be four-wheels up right now.

Hold her? The only time I hold women is when they’re bouncing on my lap.

“No,” I grit. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not your daddy.”

“Oh.”

Her shoulders sag and she seems to shrink even more— if possible. But I will not appease her. I’ve done enough by taking her away from danger. I don’t care about her emotional blows. Her father can afford a head shrink for her.

“Take your shoes off,” I tell her when I remember her heel snapped.

She listens to me and slips her shoes off her ridiculously tiny feet.

I rub my face and scratch at my stubble. Those little feet are kicking my ass big time, because I’m not acting right.

I pull my phone from my pocket and text my club manager. Calling him isn’t a good idea, as I’d probably growl the entire time.

Save the main footage from tonight and send it to me. Focus on the small female— the smallest one in the room, and note any male that got too close. 

I send him the text and shove my phone back in my pocket.

I need a drink.

After fifteen minutes, we’re finally at a hotel. I swing Karine into my arms, ignoring the dozens of concerned looks. The hotel employees are likely itching to call the cops until I walk right up to the reception desk and book the presidential suite.

I’ve come to this spot many times with women in my arm. Karine is the first I’m bringing without intending to fuck.

After booking the room, I head to the elevator.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” I say loudly at onlookers.

I’m so annoyed that I don’t shy away from glowering at a kid that rides the elevator with us. He cries, and that only reminds me of Karine’s tears, annoying me further.

I ride to the top level, using the special key, and after some more fumbling, I enter the suite.

Karine is dumped on the bed. I toss the duvet over her to cover her exposed legs, and bark, “goodnight.”

There. She’s safe, so I’m done with her.

“Wait!” She squirms under the duvet and sits up.

“Can you stay?”

“Stay?” I retort. “Do I look like a babysitter to you, Kutnesov?”

She slides off the bed and stands in front of me, head barely reaching the middle of my chest.

“Just so I can feel safer? Please?”

What good would come from that? The place only has one bed, and I already have a war in my head. I don’t want a war in my pants, too, by sleeping beside her.

“I can leave my gun for you, but I’m not staying here.”

“Luciano, please?”

She takes a hold of my sleeve, and I pull my arm away. That only makes her yank forward until she’s pressed against me.

“Per l’amor del cazzo,” I grit. (For fuck’s sake)

“Fine! Now get off me!”

She steps back and sits on the edge of the bed. I rip through the room, knowing where they store the liquor, and kick my shoes off.

Nothing good can come from this. I don’t want any more drama from her father or Maksim. As soon as she falls asleep, I’m getting out of here.

I walk to the balcony and stare at the lights of the city. The beautiful sight is admired through ugly eyes. I’m one awful bastard. I don’t feel sorry for myself, only disappointed. There’s a constant dryness in my mouth because I can’t seem to find satisfaction in life. How many more thousand-dollar dinners do I need to sate this boredom?

Clattering comes from behind me. Karine is on the feet and messing around with the small attached kitchen in the lounge.

I toss back my whiskey, and with the burn still in my throat, ask, “What are you doing?”

“Cooking,” she answers, while keeping her eyes on the plates. “I figured I should pay you back somehow. I’ll make you food.”

“That’s ridiculous and a waste of energy. Sit down and order food service.”

“No, I want to do this. I’ll call up ingredients and cook them myself.”

“So you can cut yourself and cry some more? No. Sit down already and go to sleep.”

“Cooking always calms me. It will distract me.”

She speaks so softly that my arguments dry in my alcohol-burnt throat. I never hesitate to say no. I always demand what I want, but the enemy has me biting back my words to the point that I grip my glass so tight that it cracks in my hold.

I throw the thing at the nearest wall, and it explodes.

I give my back to Karine and lurk over the balcony. My heavy breathing is loud, but not loud enough to cover the sounds of utensils clattering in the background.

a/n: Karine's acting is top tier