Mafia Light Box Set

by S. C. Daiko

  I narrow my eyes, suspicious. A leopard doesn’t change its spots. Daniel is a brute, isn’t he? He’s behaving totally out of character. “There’s really no need.”

  “Oh, but there is.” He stares down at the floor. “I’ve been ill-mannered. Unneighbourly. Like you said, a prick.” Again, that genuine laugh... it’s as if he’s had a personality transplant.

  “Apology accepted.” I’m at a loss for words.

  The delicious aroma of fried battered cod and chip potatoes wafts from the bag as Daniel opens it. My mouth waters; I barely ate at lunchtime and didn’t feel like having anything when Becca wolfed down cookies and milk after school.

  Daniel places full portions on his and my plates before dividing the third portion between Becca and Ben. They’ve already poured themselves glasses of juice. Daniel pops two cans of beer, and hands me one. “Cheers!”

  I take a swig, then glance down at the beautiful tiled floor. I shuffle my feet and look up again. My eyes crash into his, and his stare pierces me. He pulls out a chair, and I sit without saying a word.

  The food is delicious, and I eat hungrily. Daniel starts a silly conversation with the kids discussing the idea that if they could make a whole house out of food, which food would they use. I listen to Becca argue in favour of gingerbread, like the house in Hansel and Gretel, but Ben reasons that a Willy Wonka skyscraper made of chocolate and caramel would be much nicer. They giggle together as they shovel the fish and chips into their mouths, Toby drooling at their feet. Daniel challenges them next to a non-blinking contest, and we all participate, staring at each other wide-eyed until first Becca succumbs in a fit of giggles, then Ben, closely followed by me. Daniel is the clear winner. “What’s my prize?” he winks.

  “There’s some ice-cream in the freezer.” I laugh. “Or would you prefer a glass of wine?”

  “The latter, thanks.” Again, that genuine smile.

  Where has the Brute gone?

  “It’s only supermarket Chardonnay. Hope that’s okay.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Can we have some ice-cream, Mum?” Becca pleads.

  “Just a little or you’ll get tummy ache after all that food.”

  The kids take their dessert through to the living room to eat in front of the TV. Becca has recently moved on from loving The Lion King to becoming a fan of The Jungle Book, because of Ben’s influence, I think.

  I sit back down after loading the dishwasher and pour wine for Daniel and myself. “Thanks for cheering me up.” I say to him. “I was dreading tonight.”

  He quirks a brow. “A dark day?”

  “You could say that.” I sip my wine.

  “Care to elaborate.”

  My lip trembles. “I lost my husband three years ago today.”

  He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “These anniversaries are damn hard.”

  I can only nod; the lump in my throat is too big to swallow.

  “Tell me about him.”

  And I do, telling him everything from when Josh at I first met at primary school, to when we grew apart at high school, to my silly crush on another boy, to Josh becoming my knight in shining armour, the love of my life. I even tell him about Josh’s illness, how quickly it took him.

  Daniel is a good listener. He squeezes my fingers, makes me feel comforted. Maybe underneath his brutish façade, he’s a nice man? Maybe I shouldn’t have judged him so fast? What would it be like to be held by him, to rest my head against that broad chest?

  I wait for him to share something about his late wife, but he doesn’t. Instead, he glances at his watch. “Time for me to take Ben home for his bath and bed.”

  I push back my chair and carry our empty glasses to the sink. “Thanks again for the fish and chips.” I smile at him. “How about I cook for us tomorrow? I make an awesome Welsh stew, I’ve been told.”

  Daniel is silent for a moment, and then he shakes his head. “I don’t know how to say this without coming across as a prick.” His grin is cynical. “But I’d rather not.”

  I feel my cheeks burn. “You are a prick. I was only trying to reciprocate. Say thank you for tonight’s meal.”

  He stands close, and I feel the heat of his body. My heart does a weird little flip. He lifts his hand and touches my cheek, leaning into me.

  I stare into his eyes, and dammit, I can’t stop myself. I raise my face, parting my lips. In a beat, he’s kissing me. His kiss is expert, deep, and so erotic it makes my clit spark; my pussy throbs against the seam of my jeans as our hungry tongues roll together. He presses his hand to my crotch, rubbing me through the stiff fabric.

  I let out a soft moan and lower my fingers to seek out his hardness.

  “Jesus, Cat. We can’t do this.” He jumps back like I’ve scalded him. “I mustn’t risk…” He stops himself then carries on. “I mustn’t risk breaking the promise I made to my wife. Ben must be my top priority.”

  I lift my eyes to his and see the guilt there. Guilt and something else. That desolate look is back again. Christ!

  I’m about to apologise, tell him he’s right. We can’t do this. For a whole load of reasons. Except Becca and Ben come running into the kitchen, complaining that Toby has let off one of his stinky farts and they feel sick.

  I catch the relief in Daniel’s expression that we’ve been interrupted, relief that quickly morphs into pain. God, he must be carrying a lot of baggage on those broad tattooed shoulders of his. It’s like his soul is scarred.

  I pour the kids a glass of water each, which they glug down quickly. Then I walk Daniel and his son to the door. I bend down to Ben’s level. “Thank you for thinking of Becca and me. We loved the fish and chips.”

  Out of the blue, Ben gives me a hug. “I’m glad you and Becca live next door,” he says. “I like you being my friends.”

  I stare up at Daniel, catch the gleam of love for his son in his eyes. My heart does that weird little flip again.

  He takes his leave, his arm around Ben as they walk down the garden path. I stand in the doorway and watch them. Then I think about Josh. Suddenly I’m ashamed of myself for what I did, what I wanted to do with Daniel. On Josh’s anniversary, of all days. I don’t know what possessed me. It was like I’d lost control. I touch my fingers to my kiss-swollen lips and let out a groan.

  Chapter Eight

  Daniel

  I’m varnishing the painting I promised Eric, moving the brush quickly from one end of the canvas to the other; I fall into a rhythm as I work and let my thoughts drift. A week has gone by since Ben and I shared that meal with Cat and Becca. A week of adhering to my resolution not to get too close to her. Just brief conversations at the school gate or when our kids had play dates. Nothing more.

  I draw in a deep, harsh breath. The ladies in the village narrow their eyes when they see me; I’ve heard them whisper that name, Brute. I grit my teeth and the muscles in my neck strain against my skin. It’s not me who’s the brute, but my fucking brother. Always the apple of Papa’s eye, Gleb could do no wrong as far as he was concerned. He gave him a position of trust, access to myriad bank accounts. A vein throbs on my forehead. Little did Papa know his eldest son was laundering Russian mafia money…

  I put down my paintbrush and stare at the canvas. Red and purple swirling shapes, reflecting my fury at the situation in which I find myself. If it weren’t for my son, I wouldn’t be here. I’d have gone to Russia myself to find my brother.

  I scowl as I think about him. Gleb’s so-called friends took my wife and unborn baby, leaving my son motherless. To protect Ben, I had to give up my old life and start a new one. There’s a pounding in my ears as I clench and unclench my hands. I hate having to live with lies and secrets. I hate that I’m unable to give my son a normal life. But most of all, I hate myself for being the arrogant bastard who put his family in danger. The mafia’s threats and my own guilt are preventing me from finding love again; I’d be a fool to put another woman at risk.

  The sudden sound of barking cuts
across my thoughts, and I peer through the open window. Damn, Cat’s dog is running around like a maniac, yapping at a squirrel. Then he squats and deposits a steaming dump in the middle of my lawn.

  Fuck.

  I rush outside, but Catrin is there already, clipping a lead onto Toby’s collar. God, she’s beautiful. Her blond bobbed hair is dishevelled, and I fight the urge to run my fingers through it. She’s dressed in tight blue jeans that hug her curves, and I fight the urge to grab her ass and pull her against me. Her sweater has ridden up, revealing a line of honey-coloured bare skin, and I fight the urge to lick and bite at it.

  Urges. That’s all they are. I can handle them. No problem. Except my cock tells me different; it gives a throb of need.

  “I’m so sorry.” Cat walks toward me, shaking her head. “I really should fix that gap in the hedge.”

  “I’ll do it for you.” I lightly touch her shoulder.

  She jumps back, and a tremor shakes her body. Does she feel it too? This pull between us…

  Careful, Daniel.

  “Would you like to come in for a coffee?”

  I’m just being neighbourly. No harm in that.

  “Thanks.” Her cheeks flame. “But maybe I should pick up Toby’s poop first?” She meets my eye and gives a nervous laugh.

  I allow my lips to quirk. “I’ll deal with it later.”

  We leave Toby outside and she follows me into my kitchen, glancing around curiously. It’s the first time she’s been in this room; it’s the first time anyone other than Ben and I has been in here, apart from her daughter, Gabe and Eric. Such a change from my old lifestyle, with daily cleaners and every luxury you could think of. This place is simple, but it suits me and my son. I manage to take care of it myself; employing anyone might be dangerous…

  I turn my attention to Catrin. “Do you take milk and sugar?”

  “Just a spoonful, please, and lots of milk.” A smile quivers on her mouth.

  I switch on the coffeemaker and pull out two chairs. She sits, and her smile widens. “Your kitchen is different than mine.” She laughs shyly. “More masculine, somehow.”

  “As it should be.” I draw my eyebrows together in a thoughtful frown, remembering the flower-filled vases and pastel colours in her cottage last week. I hope she doesn’t say mine needs a woman’s touch; it would be more than a tad clichéd.

  She flicks the tousled hair off her forehead. “Josh has been gone three years.” Her words come out of the blue, blindsiding me. “How long is it since your wife passed?”

  Silence fills the space between us. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeates through the air. I ignore her question momentarily and go to fill our cups. Then I sit back down and fix her in my gaze. My damn heart pangs. “Nearly three and a half years.”

  “Does it still hurt?”

  I stare down at my fingers. “Victoria was pregnant. I didn’t know. She lost the baby and then she lost her life.” My words sound strangled to my ears.

  “God, I’m so sorry.” I wait for the platitudes, the meaningless phrases. How devastating. How do you get over something like that? But she doesn’t say them. Instead, she turns in her chair, places her hands on my shoulders and draws me in for a hug.

  I wrap my arms around her and feel the warmth of her toned body under the palms of my hands. A bolt of desire shoots through me. This is wrong, yet, at the same time, it feels so right. I inhale her sweet scent. She lifts her face and I kiss her soft mouth, her tears mingling with my tears.

  Fuck it.

  Fuck everything.

  I want her.

  Does she want me?

  No need to ask. She parts her lips and my tongue darts between them. She gives a little moan and cups my face with her hands, her fingers threading their way through my beard. I deepen the kiss with a bite. She whimpers but doesn’t tell me to stop. I brush my thumbs over her cheeks and kiss her again… kiss away all the pain, the regret, and the sorrow.

  I pull her to her feet. We nibble, and bite and kiss like there’s no tomorrow. She starts rocking her body against mine, and I do what I’ve been wanting to do since catching sight of her in my garden. I lift her up by the ass; she wraps her lovely legs around me. I walk her over to the kitchen counter and sit her down. “Is this what you want, Cat? Tell me to stop and I will. I’m cautioning you… I like it rough.”

  She nods, her eyes shining. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” She slides her hand up my thigh and strokes the bulge between my legs.

  I don’t know what to say, but my cock jumps in response. I tangle my fingers in her silky hair, pulling her head back so I can suck on her neck. Warning bells ring in my head. This is fucking insane. What the hell am I doing? The bells become more insistent, and I realize my damn phone is ringing. I pull the device from my pocket and answer it.

  Eric, my so-called agent is on the other end of the line. He tells me he’s about to arrive. Fuck, I thought he was coming tomorrow. Gently, I lower Catrin to the floor and explain. My voice is hoarse with need, and the tent I’m pitching in my jeans is hard as steel. I rub at the back of my neck. “My agent will be here in a couple of minutes.”

  Her face flames. “That’s what I call good timing.” A wry smile lifts the corners of her lips.

  I see her to the door and open it. Eric is already standing on the step.

  She shakes his hand after I’ve introduced them. Then her fucking dog bounds up, barking and wagging its tail. “I’d better take Toby home,” she says, reaching for his leash. “Nice meeting you, Eric.”

  “Likewise,” he grins.

  I watch Catrin lead her dog through the gap in the hedge. She was saved by the bell. Literally. She doesn’t need a damaged man like me; she needs a normal guy who’ll become a father to Becca. All I could offer her would be temporary. I mean, I never know from one day to the next when I’ll need to pack up and move on. A life on the run isn’t something I’d wish on Cat and her delightful daughter. Never in a million years. She wouldn’t want it anyway. It’s bad enough that I might have to drag my son away one day to protect him.

  A sigh catches in my throat, and I take Eric through to my studio. “Here it is.” I lift the canvas. “Do you like it?”

  “Bloody fantastic.” He bites the words out. “My buyer will love it.”

  “Great.” What else can I say? Whoop-de-doo. Another one bites the dust. I can churn them out like a fucking factory worker.

  Eric takes the painting to his car while I rustle up some lunch. Just a couple of cheese sandwiches and a pot of ready-made soup. I think about Catrin again. What would have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted? My dick grows hard and heavy as I imagine how I’d have ripped off her jeans, spread her wide and fucked her with my tongue, sucking and biting on her clit until she exploded. I’d have given her multiple orgasms then carried her upstairs, tied her to the bed and pounded into her. Not going to happen now, I promise myself. No fucking way.

  Eric returns stinking of cigarette smoke. He rubs a hand through his dark blond hair. “So, you’ve made friends with your new neighbour, have you?” he smirks.

  “Yep.” I don’t like his insinuating tone of voice.

  “She’s rather attractive.”

  She’s more than attractive. She’s fucking beautiful. I keep my thoughts to myself. “How are things in London?” I ask to change the subject.

  “I was about to tell you.” A worried look spreads across his pale face. “The Russians have started behaving badly again. The news will be made public tomorrow. A couple of your countrymen were murdered last week. We think by your brother’s associates.”

  A slither of ice slips down my spine.

  Chapter Nine

  Catrin

  The ‘Brute’ side of Daniel’s personality is back… has been since I walked out his front door the other day. He barely acknowledges my existence, just gives me a brief nod at the school gates. When Mum and Dad visited on the weekend, and I introduced them to him over the g
arden hedge, he said he’d never wanted to visit Wales. When Dad asked why, Daniel simply shrugged and muttered, ‘too many sheep.’ I mean, for God’s sake, he could have come up with something more original. So rude of him. I was about to tell him so, but he spun on his heel and strode back into his cottage, leaving Dad staring after him open-mouthed.

  It’s Monday morning now, and I’m sitting at my desk trying to get on with some invoices, except my mind isn’t on them. I purse my lips together, my stomach heavy as lead.

  The sound of a lawnmower draws me to the window. He’s out there; cutting the grass in his front garden. I stare at his muscular arms, his broad back, his dark hair. He isn’t handsome, not like Josh was handsome, but he’s rugged and masculine and so damn hunky. I close my eyes and remember how his touch unravelled me, how soft his beard felt when I’d threaded my fingers through it, how much I’d enjoyed his rough kisses. My tummy flutters.

  This is ridiculous.

  I’m ridiculous.

  Don’t think about him, Cat.

  Sighing, I turn from the window and try to get back to work.

  Later, I’m standing in front of my fridge, staring at an unopened bottle of wine. Over the weekend, with Mum and Dad watching my every move, I managed not to drink. Except now I’m alone, and the only sound I can hear is the ticking of the kitchen clock. I just want the loneliness to subside. The wine is calling to me; it will help me, stop me from feeling so alone.

  I shudder; I shouldn’t have any in the middle of the day. The last thing Becca needs is an alcoholic mum. I set my jaw and fill a glass with soda water. After glugging it down, I make a tuna sandwich, then whistle for Toby. He trots up and I grab his lead. “Time for a walk, boy.”

  Outside, the air has turned cooler than I was expecting. I set off at a brisk pace, down the path through the woods. I don’t know if I’m heading this way deliberately, hoping to meet Daniel, or if it’s just random. Whatever; I’m disappointed when I don’t see him doing those stretching exercises in the clearing where I came across him three weeks ago.