Liar's Lullaby: A Dark Mafia Romance (Mazzeo Mafia Book 1)

by Nicole Fox

  Silence ensues.

  Just the sound of water cascading against the Italian marble.

  Then, out of nowhere, Charlotte surprises me. “She’s your daughter, isn’t she?”

  The word lashes out at me like a bullwhip. Catches me off-guard.

  And coming from Charlotte’s lips, laced with anger and sadness and some other emotions I’m still puzzling out…

  It takes me a moment to regain my composure.

  “Does it matter who she is?” I falter.

  “I think I deserve to know who I’m going to be looking after.”

  “You deserve only what I decide to give you.”

  She narrows her eyes at me and nods slowly. “It has to be your daughter. You’re not the kind of man who’d take in a random child. And clearly, you didn’t know about the child until recently. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have had to resort to this little arrangement.”

  “Maybe I did it to keep you close,” I suggest. I wonder if she’s vain enough to take the bait.

  “No, this is not about me,” Charlotte replies perceptively. She’s still scrutinizing my face. “This is about an easy way out of an inconvenient situation. I bet you even said something smart-assed about it. ‘Two birds with one stone’—thought that was really fucking clever, I’d guess.”

  She’s smart—I have to give her that.

  I say nothing.

  “Can’t imagine you as a dad,” she remarks.

  “I’m not,” I snarl. “I may have fathered the girl, but that doesn’t make me a dad. The two things are not mutually exclusive.”

  The outburst is uncharacteristic, to say the least.

  Something in this girl is suddenly riling me. Testing my cool.

  She raises her eyebrows just a little as though she’s mildly impressed with the self-awareness.

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “I expect you to take good care of her,” I say. “I’ll check in every now and again, and I expect to be satisfied.”

  Her eyes go dark again. “I’m not going to take my anger out on the child for the sins of the father, if that’s what you mean,” she says defensively. “I’ll do what I can, but I won’t give you anything more.”

  I believe her.

  But she still has a lot to learn about the kind of man I am.

  My eyes linger on her breasts and her lips for a few seconds longer.

  Then I walk to the door.

  But before I go, I halt at the threshold so I can turn back and leave her with a few parting words.

  “You won’t have a choice,” I tell her. “You’ll give what I expect from you. And if you refuse… I’ll take it.”

  7

  Charlotte

  A few minutes after Lucio is gone, I kill the shower.

  Without the patter of hot water on the tile floor, silence takes over. My eardrums throb with it.

  The rest of me is throbbing, too. My head, my body, the heat between my thighs.

  Most of all, the alarm bells in my head.

  My gut is telling me that now is my last chance.

  Run before he comes back.

  But even as I pad barefoot over to check the windows and doors, I know that escape won’t be possible.

  I’m dead right about that.

  Locked.

  Locked.

  Locked.

  Like it or not, looks like I’m stuck here.

  Exhaustion hits me then—or maybe it’s just me admitting defeat.

  Whatever it is, I collapse on top of the bedcovers and promptly fall asleep with a damp towel still wrapped around my chest.

  I don’t dream—not even once. I just sleep like I’m dead.

  Until something wakes me up.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  I blink through the confusion as I try to get my bearings. For a brief, beautiful moment, I forget who I am. Where I am. Why I’m here.

  “I’m coming in!” announces an unfamiliar voice.

  “Wait!” I shout, still sleep-addled. “Hold on.”

  I stumble to my feet and secure the towel around myself just as I hear the lock turn.

  A second later, a tall, fair-haired man walks in with a bunch of clothes thrown over his arm.

  “You’re being summoned to the breakfast room,” he tells me. “I’ll wait outside while you get changed.”

  Then he walks to the bed, dumps the clothes onto it, and proceeds to walk back out of the room.

  “Good morning to you, too,” I grumble, rolling my eyes.

  When the stranger is gone, I discard the towel and sift through the clothes that he left for me.

  They’re all designer label and brand new, with the tags still attached. Chic faded blue jeans and a variety of blouses in flattering cuts.

  Whoever picked this stuff out has style in spades.

  Even the underwear is cute—a lacy maroon bralette and matching panties. I get a sudden and vivid image of Lucio offering these to me, the panties dangling from his huge fingers.

  “Nope!” I blurt out loud to the empty room.

  No chance. I’m going commando rather than live with that image in my head all day long.

  I pick the smallest pair of jeans and slip them on. They’re still a little big, but I’m more than happy not to have to wear my waitress uniform.

  If I never wear that shit again, it’ll still be too soon.

  I slide into a plain white t-shirt and head into the bathroom to brush my teeth and use the toilet.

  The counter is fully stocked with expensive-looking beauty products. You know it’s stuff meant for rich people when they don’t even bother including a brand name on the bottle.

  I wash my face and brush my teeth as I survey the pallets of make-up, brushes, a veritable tower of lipstick.

  “Screw that,” I say to my reflection. “I’m not getting all made-up for Prince fucking Charming.”

  My eyes flash back in the mirror. A little You go, girl! from me to me.

  I just wish I felt as confident as I looked.

  Before I can talk myself into doing anything brash—like oh, I dunno, slapping Lucio Mazzeo right in his smug fucking face—I turn tail and leave.

  I’m in enough trouble as it is.

  As advertised, the surly stranger is waiting out in the hallway for me. He gives me only a cursory glance before he starts walking down the hall, forcing me to follow.

  “Do you have a name?” I ask conversationally.

  He doesn’t answer.

  “No name, huh?” I say. “Does the big bad boss man give you all numbers then? Actually, I bet he just grunts and points when he wants something. Seems more his style.”

  Still no answer.

  “Are you the tour guide?” I continue, noticing the twitch in his jaw. “Or just my personal butler?”

  Silence.

  We head towards the stairs and I try not to gawk at how unbelievably huge this place is. It’s not just big—it’s kinda pretty, too.

  Pretty in a trendy and intimidating way, though.

  There’s oceans of glass and a sprawling open floor plan. No matter where you stand you can see wealth rippling outward in all directions.

  The floors are all a sleek pale wood, almost gray, and most of the stairs don’t have railings.

  Not exactly a child-friendly environment, to say the least.

  I assume we’re going all the way down to the ground floor, but instead, Mr. Talkative takes me through a wide wooden corridor on the second floor.

  There’s a textured, off-white wall on one side.

  On the other, I’m flanked by more massive panes of glass that overlook a huge outdoor area.

  I can see a pool off in the distance like a mirage.

  “Jesus, how big is this place?” I ask.

  I sigh when Sir Never-Shuts-Up remains stonily silent.

  We reach the end of the hallway. Lieutenant Loquacious pushes open a door for me.

  “What a gentleman,” I sigh, batting my eyes at him facetiously. �
�It’s been a pleasure.”

  The door shuts on me.

  “I’ll miss you, too!” I yell through it.

  Still grumbling about the man’s rude bedside manner, I turn to see where he’s deposited me…

  And freeze when I notice a pair of very familiar simmering gray eyes.

  The face they’re in, however, is not so familiar.

  Unlike the steely authority of the gaze I’d been confronted with the night before, these eyes are gentle.

  They’re nervous.

  They’re scared.

  And they’re about three feet closer to the ground.

  “Hello,” I say, softening my tone.

  The little girl looks at me through long lashes.

  I recognize that fear in her eyes. She’s trying to determine if I’m a friend or a foe. I chuckle bitterly.

  Welcome to my world, kiddo.

  She’s clutching a plush stuffed animal to her chest, but I can’t really tell what it is.

  I walk forward and squat down in front of her.

  “I’m Charlotte,” I tell her. I offer her my hand to shake.

  She stares at my open hand for a moment and then takes it hesitantly.

  “Hi,” she responds in a small voice.

  Pretty as a picture. That’s what my mother would say if she saw this kid. She has the blonde hair, the shining eyes, the rosy cheeks, the soft edges.

  “Can you tell me your name?” I ask.

  “I’m Evie,” she says timidly. “Evelyn for long.”

  I smile at that one.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Evie,” I tell her. She’s the first person in the house that I don’t have to lie about being happy to see. “What have you got there?”

  She glances down at the toy clutched in her hands. She’s holding it to her chest as though it’s a shield.

  “This is my friend,” she tells me.

  “Oh, yeah?” I reply. “He looks pretty cool, but, um… what exactly is he?”

  “He’s a platypus,” she answers at once, her gray eyes brightening up instantly. “He was born in Australia.”

  “Wow! Australia, huh?” I say. “That’s really cool. I’ve never been there myself.”

  “Neither have I,” she tells me, a note of longing edging into her tone. “It’s a really big place. There are tons of platypuses there. Paulie’s family lives there.”

  “Is that his name?”

  “Mhmm,” Evie affirms. She holds out the gray little creature so I can get a better look.

  “He definitely looks like a Paulie,” I agree. “He’s really cute.”

  Evie nods. “And he’s really smart, too,” she tells me with all the pride of a new parent. “He can live on land and on water. And he has special venom!”

  I have no idea if any of this is actually true, but something about Evie’s confidence makes me trust her.

  “Whoa…! Venom, huh? Sounds scary.”

  “Don’t worry,” Evie assures me. “He won’t hurt you because you’re nice. He only uses his venom with people who aren’t nice to me.”

  I stare down at the soft gray platypus, seeing him in a whole different light.

  He’s a security blanket. A guardian for her amidst all this scariness.

  “I wish I had a friend like him when I was your age,” I tell her softly.

  Her trusting gray eyes meet mine and I see so much warmth and generosity in them.

  “He can be your friend too,” she offers.

  I actually get teary-eyed at that. I have to force a smile onto my face.

  “That means a lot to me,” I say, patting Paulie on the head. “Thanks for being my friend, Paulie. I hope we can be friends, too, Evie?”

  She smiles. The first proper smile I’ve gotten from her so far. It makes her look even younger.

  “Really?”

  “Of course!” I exclaim. “I’m always looking for cool people to hang out with.”

  “Me, too!” she chirps.

  I laugh and a second later, I feel Evie’s hand curl around my arm.

  I recognize the look in her eye. It’s the desperately hopeful look of a child who needs her parents.

  A child who’s looking for security.

  For safety.

  For love.

  “Evie…” I say as gently as I can, giving her a smile that I hope is reassuring. “Where’s your mommy?”

  Her eyes go wide with uncertainty. She’s about to answer me, but before she can—

  “Charlotte.”

  Lucio’s snarl sends the smile careening off my face.

  I hate that I’m so affected by his presence. Even his fucking voice seems to reverberate inside me.

  I get to my feet and turn around, already gritting my teeth.

  It’s amazing how two people with the same exact eyes can give off such different vibes.

  His steely gray eyes are clearly disapproving as he glares at me. I can feel Evie move closer to me, taking cover behind my legs.

  “Slept well?” he asks in the kind of tone that makes clear he doesn’t give a flying fuck how well I slept.

  “Do you really care?” I snap back.

  “No,” he answers curtly, “I don’t. You’ll find breakfast in the kitchen. For both of you.”

  His words are stark. Completely devoid of warmth or humanity.

  He glances towards the child cowering behind me.

  “Evie,” he starts, and I assume he’s going to say something nice. “Why are your toys littered all over the place? It’s only been one night.”

  I frown, annoyed with his tone. Frustrated that he can’t seem to see how terrified this little girl is.

  And it makes me speak up when I should be fully focused on staying quiet.

  I step forward. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

  His eyebrows rise. “If you must.”

  I turn to Evie. “Hey, sweetie, why don’t you get your stuff together? I’ll just be a minute.”

  She looks at me helplessly, the fear scrawled all over her face.

  So I walk forward and squat down again. Taking her hands, I look her right in the eye.

  “Do you like games?” I ask.

  She nods cautiously, her eyes flitting to Lucio for a second before coming back to me.

  “Great. We’re gonna play a ton of games, just you and me.”

  “And Paulie?” she asks.

  “And Paulie,” I confirm.

  “Okay.”

  Her bottom lip isn’t trembling quite so much anymore. But I’m still treading carefully.

  “I’m just gonna need you to pick up your stuff first. Can you do that for me?”

  She nods silently.

  “Atta girl,” I smile, giving her a wink. “Go on now.”

  The moment she gets to work, I walk back over to where Lucio is standing, looking impatient as hell.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I demand through gritted teeth.

  “Excuse me?”

  “She’s a child,” I spit. “She’s doesn’t have any idea what’s going on. She’s clearly rattled and very scared. Would it kill you to be nice to her?”

  He takes a step towards me and leans in just a little.

  For one insane moment, I actually think he’s about to kiss me.

  Then he opens his mouth.

  “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” he asks.

  His voice is quiet, but if anything, that only makes the implied threat even more terrifying.

  All the fire in my chest cools at once at this onslaught of ice.

  I stammer, “She—she’s a little girl…”

  “And I’m the fucking don of this house,” he responds menacingly. “Which means I own you, and I own her, too. Your job is to keep your mouth shut and follow my commands. And if not, then things can and will go very badly for you.”

  I meet his hard gaze, but my courage is failing fast. His eyes are too icy. His jaw too sharp. There’s no denying that he means what he says.

&nb
sp; It’s not in my nature to back down from a bully.

  But one glance in Evie’s direction makes me hold my tongue.

  Not for my sake.

  For hers.

  She’s already been scarred enough. I can see that in her eyes, and I don’t want to contribute to more trauma.

  So I’ll swallow my words to protect her.

  She needs that. As far as I can tell, she has no one else to do it for her.

  And I know what it’s like to be all alone and defenseless.

  “Are you planning on locking me in every night?” I ask, changing the subject altogether.

  He doesn’t so much as bat an eyelid. “Yes. But there’ll be a new sleeping arrangement from tonight. You’ll be moved further down the corridor to another room, and Evie will have the connecting room.”

  “Can’t wait. Anything else?” I ask bitterly.

  “You have freedom of the compound,” Lucio tells me. “But there are armed guards manning the premises at all times, not to mention twenty-four-hour surveillance, so if you try and make a run for it… Well, my advice is: don’t.”

  I nod, more angry words still caught in my throat.

  “I will be away a lot,” he continues, his expression impassive. “But I’ll check in every so often. Any questions?”

  “Clothes. I need more, uh, clothing.”

  He looks at me with a sardonic smile playing on his lips. “Not a fan of the things I selected?”

  So I was right about that.

  I shudder.

  “I’d prefer to shop for my own clothes.”

  He shrugs. “You can write up a list of everything you think you’ll need, and when you’re done, you can give it to Lorenzo. He’ll sort it out.”

  Lorenzo. I assume that’s the real charmer who escorted me down here this morning.

  “I want to do it myself. The sizes you sent for me this morning were all too big.”

  “That’s not happening,” he snaps. “You’re not leaving this compound until I can trust your loyalty.”

  “I will never be loyal to you,” I blurt before I can stop myself.

  For a second, I have the crazy idea that he’s going to snap and do something crazy.

  Hit me or scream in my face, maybe.

  But the feeling passes.

  And Lucio looks the same as he’s always been—cold and remote. Unflinching.