Captivated

by Bethany-Kris

  “Morning,” Joe murmured from behind her. “I ordered breakfast in from the place down the road. It’ll be here in a few, if you want to get up.”

  She hummed indecisively. “I don’t know.”

  “What, you want to cook?”

  Her laughter came out breathless and high until Joe suddenly flipped her over, and was hovering above her naked body on the bed.

  “Laughing in bed with me is probably not a good idea,” he said with an arched brow. “I take it as a challenge.”

  “Is that so?” she dared to ask.

  “Very much so, yeah.”

  “Maybe that’s why I didn’t know if I wanted to get out of bed to eat or not, Joe.”

  He cocked his head to the side, considering her words. “Fair enough. Are you getting up, or what?”

  “How long until the food gets here?”

  “About twenty, now.”

  Liliana nodded. “Lots of time.”

  “For what?”

  “Stretches,” she told him. “Preps me for the day, and gets me loosened up before I go into the studio. It’s like a fucking warm up for their warm up.”

  Joe scowled.

  “What is that for?” she asked, pressing her thumb into the furrow between his brows.

  “You don’t even get a break after a show, huh?”

  Liliana shrugged. “That show is one of three this week for that ballet. All sold out, too.”

  “Huh.”

  “I like it, though.”

  “Stretches, then?” he asked.

  Liliana nodded, and let him pull her out of the bed. “Stretches.”

  Shame, though, as it seemed he had gotten up long enough to pull on his pants, and shirt. She was still naked, and felt that was incredibly unfair.

  Although, the way Joe watched her as she passed him by was enough to make her grin at him. “Now who’s found something they like?”

  His laughter followed her out of the bedroom as she snagged a pair of leggings, and a sports bra on the chair next to the door. After freshening up and dressing in the bathroom, Liliana moved to the living room to the barre she had gotten installed in the studio apartment along the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the street down below. She could have put on her pointe shoes, which she sometimes did, but she just needed to wake up her muscles. Not get en pointe for the whole time.

  Peering out the window, Liliana lost time as she did a quick fifteen minute warmup that included basic stretches, and some moves that were meant to test her flexibility after a hard day like yesterday. One included having her right leg resting along the barre, and then letting her back and left arm fall as far backwards as it could go before she quickly came back up. She could just about fold her body entirely in half doing that move.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” she heard.

  Liliana dropped her leg, and found Joe staring at her from the kitchen island. The ease of his body leaning against the counter belied the intensity in his gaze as he watched her. “What?”

  “You just bent in half. Backwards.”

  “And?”

  Joe swallowed thickly as he pulled out a phone that buzzed in his hand from his pocket. “You know what—nothing, babe. Just know I’m going to remember that you are limber enough to bend in half.”

  She only laughed at him, but quickly went back to her exercises. Although, a part of her was listening to his conversation on the phone, too.

  “Rossi here,” she heard him say.

  Liliana switched to another move that allowed her to face him, but she only watched Joe from the corner of her eye as she began the set of stretches. With nothing more than a reply to his name, she watched Joe’s entirely demeanor change.

  Like when made men were around.

  Like when he was at the dinner.

  Cold.

  Black.

  Hard.

  Nothingness.

  Liliana blinked, and stopped her stretches when Joe said, “No, I need you to look into that for me—yeah, business reasons. Find out who the fuck it is. Later.”

  He ended the conversation.

  She didn’t move a muscle.

  “Joe?”

  “Hmm?”

  Instantly, the coldness was gone. He was Joe again, looking at her in that beautiful way of his.

  “Why are you still in New York?” she asked.

  One of many questions she had.

  Joe shrugged his shoulders. “Business.”

  “That’s all you want to say?”

  “That’s all I can say.”

  “You kind of give me whiplash, Joe.”

  He, too, stayed still as stone. “Why’s that?”

  “Sometimes, it’s like you’re someone else entirely. You go back and forth between this person I get to see, and someone else you let the people around you see. And I’m not sure how I feel about the other Joe when he comes out to play.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “He’s cold—blank, I guess. It almost makes me wonder if you feel anything when you look like that, you know?”

  “And what else?” he asked.

  Liliana glanced down at the floor. “I just … what do you really do in the business, Joe?”

  “I’m the shadow people need when something needs to go, and nobody needs to know about it.”

  That … told her nothing. Or, maybe she just didn’t want to think too hard about what that meant. She was not dumb—she knew the men in her life weren’t entirely good people. They were criminals, and yet, she still loved those men. They were good to her. And that’s what counted the most.

  “So, what does that make you, then? A good, or a bad man?”

  And what was she supposed to do with it?

  Joe’s expression gave nothing away when he said, “The only man I know how to be, Liliana.”

  “I fucked him.”

  Cella’s head popped up from staring down at her phone, her eyes became impossibly wide, and she choked on the latte she had been sipping on just seconds before. So, maybe that hadn’t been the right time to blurt that information out to her sister.

  It took another few seconds, a long drink of the latte, and only then was Cella seemingly ready to digest what Liliana had said.

  “Who, Joe?” her sister asked.

  Liliana shrugged. “Who the hell else would I be messing with right now?”

  “Well, I don’t know. You’re busy, so I only get bits and pieces lately.”

  “You know I haven’t been in a relationship—sexual or otherwise—since fuck-head, Cella.”

  “Yeah, but still.”

  Liliana rolled her eyes. “Yes, Joe.”

  Cella wet her lips, and leaned back in the café chair. “And when did that happen?”

  “Three days ago. The night of my show.”

  “Opening night—‘cause I came to the second one, and he wasn’t there.”

  “Opening night, yeah.”

  Cella nodded, and then grinned slyly. “How was it?”

  Jesus.

  Liliana couldn’t help herself, though. She grinned, too. “Fantastic.”

  “Then, what’s the problem?”

  “Not sure.”

  Cella raised a brow. “That’s not a good answer. You get a great lay, and you should be ecstatic about it. Plus, I mean … look at the guy, Liliana.”

  “I did—too much, probably.”

  Her sister laughed.

  Liliana shrugged.

  What could she say?

  “At least you can say his skills in bed match his looks,” Cella offered. “Just because a guy looks decent means nothing. It’s always the good-looking ones who can’t seem to find a fucking clit.”

  Just the level of her sister’s voice drew the attention of people sitting nearby. Liliana would have shrunk into the chair if she could. Instead, she just settled on giving her sister a look she hoped shut her up.

  Not Cella.

  Never.

  “What?” her sister asked.

&nbs
p; “You’re terrible.”

  “I know.”

  Cella seemed all too happy about that.

  “I haven’t seen him since, though,” Liliana added.

  “Yikes.”

  “I mean, he texts me, or whatever.”

  “That’s something,” Cella pointed out.

  “I think maybe he’s trying to let me figure some shit out.”

  Cella’s brow dipped. “Figure what out?”

  “Him, I guess.”

  “I need more to go on.”

  “Just … him,” Liliana said lamely. “Sometimes, I don’t think he is who he says he is. I know he’s not entirely on the right side of life, just considering his last name and where he comes from.”

  Cella glanced upward. “Uh, neither are we, technically. Or our father … uncles, grandfather, cousins, and—”

  “I get it, Cella.”

  “Listen, we’re not new to men like him, Liliana. We’ve grown up around them. This shouldn’t be … a thing for you. Why is it a thing?”

  “Because he’s not telling me, maybe? I mean, maybe if he told me, then I wouldn’t feel like there are two different men I’m trying to figure out right now.”

  “Maybe you’re not in deep enough for him to need to tell you shit. Ever consider that? You’re stuck in your head and feelings with the idea he owes you something that we both know men in this life keep carefully guarded, Liliana. And right now, at this stage, he doesn’t owe you anything about that part of his business. Think about it.”

  Liliana blinked at that statement.

  “You never even considered that, did you?” her sister pressed.

  “No, I suppose not.”

  Cella nodded. “Yeah, I figured.”

  Huh.

  “Funny,” Liliana mumbled.

  “What is?”

  “Aren’t you the one who always said you wouldn’t marry into the mob? How the fuck did you get this in-depth understanding of men like Joe Rossi, huh?”

  Cella meh’d under her breath. “Just because I don’t want to love a made man doesn’t mean I don’t know this life, Liliana, and the men inside it. I know. Inside, you do, too.”

  SEVEN

  A BLACK TOWN car pulled into the alley, and honked once. Joe quickly rounded the side of the car, and came up to the driver’s side window just as it rolled down enough to show the man waiting inside.

  “You called?” Johnathan Marcello asked.

  “Where’s your boss today?”

  John chuckled dryly. “Which boss—seems like everybody rides my ass enough to wear the title, so be specific.”

  Joe would have sighed had he even had the patience for that today, but he didn’t. “Dante. Or shit, even Lucian would probably do, if the boss is busy. I have questions, and they need to be answered.”

  “Because that’s going to get you everywhere with them,” John muttered.

  Shrugging, Joe said, “Yeah, well.”

  “Dante is out of town for the weekend. My father is picking up the slack.”

  “Makes sense why Dante isn’t answering my calls, then.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” John drummed his fingers on the leather-wrapped steering wheel before adding, “You want a meet with my father, or what?”

  “Today, preferably.”

  “All right, get in.”

  Joe chose not to question John. He jogged around the side of the car, and slipped in the passenger seat. It took ten minutes, and three phone calls for John to finally get a hold of his father, and request the meet.

  Shit, Joe would have just showed up again on Lucian like he did the first time had he simply known where the man was. Well, as long as he had time.

  Joe checked the digital clock on the dashboard of the Mercedes. Seemed like he was kind of running short on time, actually. He only had another two hours, at the most, and he was going to need to get back to watching Liliana until she was safe at her studio apartment.

  “So,” John drawled from the driver’s seat.

  “What?”

  “I hear you’re looking after my sister.”

  Joe cocked a brow. “Someone thought it was a good idea.”

  John smirked. “Yeah, they always have the brightest fucking ideas.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Be nice to her, huh?”

  Joe eyed John from the side. “I beg your pardon?”

  “My sister, I mean. Be nice to her. She took enough shit from me growing up, and whatnot. She just … doesn’t deserve anything less than kind people treating her with respect.”

  “What kind of shit did she take from you, exactly?”

  John glanced over at Joe.

  Fuck.

  He could tell he hadn’t been successful in hiding the warning of violence flashing in his tone when he spoke. Just the idea of someone being terrible to Liliana was enough to make Joe want to spill blood, and hear screams echo.

  For a long while, John’s gaze continued to drift between Joe, and back to the slow-moving Manhattan traffic. “What’s that about, man?”

  Joe cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Cut the bullshit. I don’t care. I’m not the one you have to worry about spilling your business. Just tell me what it’s fucking about.”

  “This isn’t the inquisition, John. Don’t be a prying fucker.”

  “Fine,” John said heavily, glancing back out the window. “I’m bipolar. Diagnosed when I was seventeen—closer to eighteen, but still seventeen. I went the majority of my teen years in a constant up and down spiral of mania, and depression. My sisters—more the two older ones—were always right there in the line of fire given we lived in the same fucking house.”

  Joe’s head jerked to the side again, and he found John was watching him, too.

  “So yeah, that’s the kind of shit my sister took from me,” John said, “and if anyone in this business ever learns I’m bipolar because you told them, all that’s going to be left of you will be a fucking shadow. Got it?”

  Well, damn.

  Joe didn’t feel the need to question John’s threat because he felt it well enough in the way the man’s words stabbed at him.

  “I like her,” Joe admitted. “Liliana, I mean.”

  John drummed his fingers again. “Oh?”

  “Complicated, at the moment.”

  “I guess it would be considering you’re hired to do a job for our family, and they added her into the mix. Although, that’s not really complicated.”

  “It is when I haven’t told her she’s part of the job. And for that matter, explaining that bit would mean also telling her what my work is. I don’t like to talk about that with anybody, if you get my drift.”

  John made a sound in the back of his throat. “Yeah, edging toward issues there a little bit.”

  “Don’t need the reminder.”

  “What can you do?”

  Without saying another word, John pulled the Mercedes to the side of the road. He put the car in park in front of what looked like a restaurant that was currently undergoing serious renovations given the blacked out windows, and building permits.

  “He’s here?” Joe asked.

  John shrugged. “He had some unpleasant meetings today, I think.”

  “Won’t the workers coming in to work on the place be pissed to find a mess?”

  “Oh, they just keep this place for this sort of shit. It’s never actually undergoing anything but a mop of the floor to clean up the blood.”

  Huh.

  Good to know.

  “Thanks, John,” Joe said, climbing out of the car.

  John’s voice stopped Joe from closing the door when he replied, “No problem, man. And like I said … be kind to her.”

  Joe nodded, but didn’t reply.

  He figured he didn’t have to.

  “Leave him,” came the order from the far end of the restaurant.

  Joe had barely managed to walk in through the front door before he was faced with two sur
ly looking enforcers that often trailed close behind wherever Lucian Marcello went. One was the enforcer from the restaurant, but it didn’t seem like the man cared if he recognized Joe or not at the moment.

  However, at their boss’s order, the two men took a few steps back from Joe. They quickly went back to their posts at the wall.

  Joe didn’t miss how one of the enforcer’s knuckles were a reddened, swollen mess. Like he had the time of his life punching the daylights out of someone that day.

  It was possible.

  Now that he had a bit of breathing room, Joe took the chance to look around while he could. There wasn’t very fucking much to see inside the place, actually.

  It certainly looked like the business was undergoing some kind of renovations, but that was probably all to keep the act up, and the building permits still legal. Wires hung from the exposed ceiling, the floor was torn up to showcase stained cement beneath it, and old tables and chairs were scattered in every direction. Some were covered by dusty, old sheets, and others were overturned or cleaned off to sit.

  Lucian pushed off the corner of a table at the far end of the rundown restaurant. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching someone today?”

  “Do you think I left her unprotected?”

  “I think I asked a question, actually.”

  Joe sighed. “She’s with her mother and sister, as you probably already know. Dinner, and a movie. I suspect it’s a girls’ day out, but who knows? The other two have enforcers, and they’re in well-known, public areas. I chatted with their enforcers for a minute to let them know I had to step away.”

  He then flashed his phone in the air, saying, “I get a text every time they move to a new spot, and I know exactly where she is at all times. She’s fine.”

  “I know she is,” Lucian murmured.

  Joe swore the man almost fucking smiled, too.

  “I hate it when people doubt me,” Joe said.

  Lucian shrugged. “Not my problem. What can I do for you?”

  Yes, that.

  The whole fucking reason why Joe was here to begin with.

  “Rich Earl,” Joe said, trying to keep his tone as level as he could. He also failed like a fucker because he knew something was fucking up, now. “Son of George Earl—you know, the politician you want me to kill.”

  Lucian folded his arms over his chest, but otherwise, kept his face impassive and unreadable. “What about him? Most men George’s age have families, Joe. I’m not sure why you’re looking into the personal details and lives of your mark. That’s not typical, is it?”