by Sunniva Dee
“Yes, sir.” The fear of me, god, is thick in his voice when he apologizes and hangs up.
Crushed, I’ve lost control of what’s my very own business. I float my eyes from the small pumps in front of me, up slender calves to the soft squares of her knees. Right above, her thighs expand enough to suggest femininity and strength.
Anger. Fury. The impotence of the situation. The in-your-face womanhood meeting me with the short hem of her skirt, the thin waist, the swell of her breasts.
Finally, I meet her eyes, expecting the terror I always see when the truth comes out to girls who think they want more with Isaias di Nascimbeni.
Tatiana doesn’t give it to me. There is no shock, no who-is-this-demon-I-slept-with-last-night. All I see is understanding and the same iron will I’ve possessed since I can remember.
“She’s special to you.”
“Yeah.” It’s like that single word bursts in my mouth. I straighten and hold her stare when I continue. “I grew up with Gabriela. Besides my mother, Gabriela is the first person I remember. She’s a few months older than me. We were always together. More than my brother is my brother, my cousin is my sister. I can’t imagine a world without her in it.”
“Then,” she whispers and tips up on her toes to find my lips. She breathes the rest of her words against them. “Then, we need to find her.”
Juggling fifty things at once is what I do best.
Rocco’s desperate, working his ass off trying to track down my cousin. I tell him it’s damn clear what her plan is, to get the hell out of L.A. and hit Italian soil as soon as she can. His only job is to stop that from happening, and there aren’t even that many airports she could leave from.
Burbank. LAX. If she wants to be creative, she’ll try getting down to San Diego. But Gabriela isn’t used to being on her own. Chances are she’ll either be caught by my guys or the Santa Colombini before she boards a flight.
Tatiana wants to help. I’ve got connections with most airlines flying out of Southern California, so I put her in charge of calling them. My first goal is to make Gabriela feel safe and get her tucked away in some five-star lounge. From there, bam, my people’ll grab her and take her back to the bunker.
While Tatiana works out of our bedroom, I’m downstairs pulling Lucid strings. Felix’s guys are on double watch at the compound, and the only one in the know is McRoy. He’s anxious and wants to brief me on all of his brilliant alternative ideas, but there’s no time to hear him out.
“Sexman. Status update?”
“Gianni says we’re five scenes in and have two to go. Lots of good material for the editors to play with.”
“Is Belen behaving?”
“She’s fine for the most part. Except yesterday Gianni gave Luka the go ahead to play with submission. She lost her shit over the new girl again. Luka’s the only one she’ll listen to when you’re not around, so Gianni changed the script a little. She was way happy afterward.”
“Sounds good. If she can’t keep it together onset, I’ll use her in admin where she can’t slow down my projects for the remainder of her contract.”
“Okay, sir. She’s spending a lot of time at Luka’s house too.”
I frown over this. I’ve only ever seen contempt or humor from Luka when it comes to Belen. “With Luka?”
“No, she’s happy to boast her escapades with all of his roommates. He lives with a slew of college students, I guess.”
“Got it.” This is on the top end of my not-interested scale. “Did you look into alternative locations for the music video?”
“Yes, I’ve been looking, but there’s not that many places available on such short notice.”
“McRoy.”
“Sir?”
“This is our highest priority. I don’t want Clown Irruption close to the Valley with everything that’s going down. Look at the Santa Ana Mountains, behind the basin. Check into The Summit. Don’t remember the owner’s name, but it should be low season for him, and we’ll pay whatever he wants.”
“Okay, what’s our roof?”
It annoys me that he asks before I tell him. Then again, I guess I pay him for being a smartass. “50K.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Nascimbeni, we shouldn’t be paying 50K to rent his place for two days, even if it does comprise the acres around it.”
“With all due respect, Mr. McRoy,” I counter, voice more toxic than I intend, “I expect you to keep us way below our roof.”
He takes that in for a second. Then, in a subdued tone, he says, “Of course. I’ll get us an offer you’ll be happy with.”
I haven’t told him what I’d be happy with. It’s closer to the 10K range, but at this point, money’s not what I’m worried about. It’s getting shit done before my father’s fucking mafia war blows up my entire world.
“You know what’s interesting?” I ask the girl I sleep with and dream about.
Gabriela’s still gone, out of our hands, and we’re twenty-four hours down the drain. God knows where she is. I’m pissed, ready to hang Rocco myself.
“What’s interesting?” Ivory hands extend, perfect and untouchable, though I sucked on those fingers last night while she came around me. Holy, she’s a goddess.
Cautiously, she wipes my stubble clean of butter before offering up a small piece of bread with boiled egg yolk. It’s not too hard, not too soft. I watched her lovingly drizzle salt and pepper over it, then a minuscule dash of mayo. I open my mouth and study her face while she rounds her lips as if it’s she who’s about to bite down on it.
“You’re gorgeous, and I’m obsessed with you,” I say.
She lowers her lashes, gaze straight on me over her lamb-colored turtleneck. Tatiana is no lamb. She milked me overnight, leaving my balls so dry I’m still in pain, but the look on her face right now still has me groaning with desire.
“I know,” she hums out.
I’m beyond trying to keep my men in the dark when it comes to Tatiana and me. We’re going to be with them twenty-four seven for god knows how long anyway, so I ignore Bully’s half-suppressed snort.
I bore my gaze into Tatiana’s and find the glint of seduction I crave.
“See, what’s fascinating isn’t that I’m head over heels for you. It’s that I trust you. You, baby, are chockfull of secrets you don’t share with me. You’re a fucking mystery waiting to be unraveled, but despite it all, I trust you.”
“Stupid Isa.”
“Isa?” I drag my teeth over my lower lip. “You’re giving me nicknames now?”
“You like Ice better?”
“Definitely not Ice. That’d be you, ice queen. My favorite thing to do is melt you.”
Bully mutters some under-his-breath curse as he lumbers out of the kitchen. Once all of this is over, I’ll have to pay him back with a weekend in a brothel.
My phone buzzes. I press it to my ear, hoping it’s Rocco. “Yep.”
“All set, sir. The Summit is booked, and I got it for 12K.” McRoy brims with delight.
“All right. Get us set up with Felix so nothing interferes with us going there tomorrow.”
“Done deal, sir. See, we didn’t need 50K to pocket this one.” Guy’s so full of himself. It’s fine. I’ll let him have the glory.
“Good work.”
“Thank you! I’ll get back to you in a few. I’m setting up the details with Felix next. You want me to contact Clown Irruption as well?”
“No, Martin’s on my speed dial. I’ll let him know. Just send me the specifics.”
Yeah, Clown Irruption definitely won’t be worrying about a thing. We’ll be smooching, signing, filming, and partying, and once it’s all said and done, they’ll be on their way, none the wiser that it happened at the core of a three-famiglia mobster war.
“Martin, sir?”
“Clown Irruption’s busines
s agent. He’ll get them on their way. I want it to be smooth sailing for them from A to Z.”
“Absolutely, sir! One more thing…”
“What’s that?”
“You didn’t mention if you wanted me to come along or not. Either way, you know. If you need me at Lucid…” He trails off like a fucking chick.
“McRoy?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Just wanted to be sure of what you wanted from me. I’ll run Lucid if you want me to, in the meantime.”
“Gianni’ll be with us. So will seven cameramen, two sound engineers, and a few editors, gaffers, and the rest of the team.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’re shutting down Lucid Entertainment for the extension of the filming.” I hear him inhale in a way that could be considered a gasp. “McRoy. You there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll be open but only by phone. Keep Melissa on. She should take care of the lines from her house or whatever, as long as she’s not at Lucid. Main thing is, while Felix’s guys, you, and I are in the Santa Ana Mountains, we’re not holding down the compound.”
His relief is so big on the other end, it’s a groan.
“Sound good?” I ask for fun.
“Yes, sir!”
It does please me when my employees enjoy my decisions.
“Isaias.” Tatiana’s fingers brush down my temple and my cheek to my mouth. “I need to leave for about an hour. I didn’t want you to worry.”
I blink off my sleep. I’m on the couch in the living room, waiting for my phone to ring with news about Gabriela.
“I can’t let you leave, baby.” I arch my head backward, following the sound of her voice. Her pretty face hovers over me from behind. I reach up, pull her down to me. She sinks to her knees and cradles my face with her hands.
Tatiana allows me to devour her mouth. My tongue delves in, swiping and suckling her into a moan. It’s heart-battering. I breathe faster, and then her exhales become shallow too. I love that sound.
“It’s not safe out there for you.” I lace my fingers into her hair, extending it around our faces. We’re in a tent of silk and warm sugar. “I’d never hold you back if it weren’t for your safety. Because you need to live on. On and on and on with that crazy beauty you are.”
She puffs a quiet laugh against me. “Weirdo.”
“I want you,” I sigh out.
“Tonight, darling. I just need to do this, okay?”
I still her face over me. Nudge it away enough to stare into her eyes. “I’ll come with you.”
“You can’t. It’s nun business.”
“You still think of nuns?”
“My business with the sisterhood doesn’t simply disappear because of an explosion in a church,” she whispers to me.
“Let me at least drive you there.”
I shut my eyes while her soft fingers draw trails down my cheeks. In my adult life, I’ve been touched often and in many ways, but Tatiana’s caresses remain on my skin long after they’re gone.
“Isaias, I’m twenty-seven years old. I’ve been fending for myself for a long time. I’ll be fine, okay?”
I scrunch my eyes shut, knowing I won’t be forcing myself on this stubborn, beautiful, independent woman tonight.
“I’ll be honest with you. I can’t bear the thought of you and Gabriela both out there without my protection.” I pull her down so I can kiss the infinitely soft skin of her throat. “Just let me drive you there. I won’t come in. I’ll, you know, play with my phone and listen to music like some dopy-ass high-school boyfriend until you come out.”
I grew up surrounded by women. I grew up surrounded by macho men too, but they all knew when to yield to their women. It’s why my father’s heart still beats for my mother. It’s why hers stutters every time he’s in danger.
So I let Tatiana go. I stand there on the gravel, hands fisted in my pockets like a douche. At least she accepted my offer of taking the Escalade with the bulletproof windows. She better get used to that, because she’s with Isaias di Nascimbeni. From now on, I’ll make damn sure she never drives anything that can’t repel the bullets of my father’s enemies.
“Fritz,” I shout as soon as she rolls toward the highway. “Get in.”
“Uhm?”
I walk up to him and point toward another loaner. It’s a joke of a car. Small and grey, it’s unassuming enough to blend in anywhere. I chuck him the key.
“I hold you personally responsible for Tatiana’s wellbeing until she’s back in my arms. Understood?”
“Absolutely, sir. It’s an honor.”
I pitch him my Glock too, and I don’t fucking care how unprecedented that is. He grabs it on reflex, gaze humbled as it meets mine. “Mr. Nascimbeni. I’ve got it. I have my sub.”
I stare him down, willing him to tell me it’ll be enough. Because is it? His stare dims with determination. Then he tosses my gun back. I watch it swirl in the air and find my palm in seconds.
“You’re sure?” My voice doesn’t sound right.
“I am.”
I squint, forcing liquid away from my eyes.
“I will get your woman back to you.”
Ah.
I hate midnight when shit isn’t in order. Outside, the moon is round and pale, unable to illuminate the blackness that wraps Malibu in its nothing.
My phone dings.
“Hello. Who is it?”
“Rocco, sir. We’ve got Gabriela.”
“You’ve got her?” My heart travels in my chest. From right below my collarbone, it floats toward the area it’s supposed inhabit, that place where it hasn’t fucking been since Tatiana left and Gabriela took off on her own goddamn adventure. What is it with the women in my life?
“Well, no, but we know where she is.”
“Where?”
“She’s, uh.” He blows out air, fortifying himself. “Gabriela is halfway to Venice.”
“You let her fly.” I know how I sound: too calm to be good.
“Well, she tricked us a little. She actually headed way up the coast, which is how she’s on a flight out of San Francisco at the moment.”
I can’t reply. I’m spending all my energy keeping from slamming the phone against the headboard until it’s smothered into static dust. Gabriela’s boyfriend lives in San Francisco. Why the hell didn’t I think of that?
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“What have you done about it so far?” It’s a futile question. No way he’s even thought about the next step. Because he’s right; I didn’t hire him for this, to preempt future dangers and intercept, putting in place blockages to keep my cousin safe. It’s all on me that I got Gabriela a fucking assistant when I should have gotten her a bodyguard.
“Called the Neros, sir. They’re waiting for her.”
“You called them?”
“Yes, sir. Sebastian will be there. The Neros know what’s at stake.”
“Of course, they know. They’re family to the Nascimbeni.”
Everything inside me boils with the unfairness of Gabriela being outside my dome of protection. Even so, Rocco has done more than I thought he was capable of; he took the initiative, stepped up, connected with the famiglia in Italy instead of simply reporting his failure to me.
I breathe in slowly and let the air sieve out between my teeth. “Grazie, Rocco.”
“Non c’è di che, capo.”
“I’m not your capo.”
“No, sir. Sorry, sir.”
The moon is blue when she walks into the room. I’ve slept fitfully, awakened by flies, by sudden bursts of air-conditioning. But here she is, entering my room, and I can’t fucking explain what it does to my chest.
Between Gabriela being gone and my family needing to remain locked up in a bunker, my nerves have multiplied. I see it all. Hear
it all, smell it all, and it’s why I keep my eyes closed while her clothes flow quietly to the floor and her bare feet diminish our distance.
The mattress gives to her slight weight. It’s been a minute since she entered, since I woke up, misgivings replaced by relief and anger, by fury and love for this person who’s wedged herself into my chaos when there shouldn’t be room.
I’ve been swallowing my relief, big globs that have tickled my Adam’s apple since the first click of the front door.
I twist, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her under me. She gasps, a small moan in her throat, and it’s the prettiest, prettiest thing I’ve ever heard.
Ice queen, I mouth against her ear. You think you can sneak in.
“I’m back, baby.”
“You love me?” I whisper.
“It’s too early to—”
“Fuck conventions. I love you,” I say and wrench her to her back. She doesn’t resist. She’s not my opponent, my enemy, the other famiglia. She’s simply who I love. My burning fucking chest knows it, and maybe that is a heart thing.
I pull the straps off her shoulders. Slowly, I do it, because she doesn’t like it fast. I revel in soft sighs, in shivers that show me I make her happy. I’m high on her bliss, such a new thing for me. Closing my eyes, I move with her until we find release.
I’m the boss this morning, and guess what? She’ll have to deal with that. If she doesn’t want to listen, I’ll just tie her up. Hell, if she doesn’t obey, if she thinks she can go out there, into all the evil of the world, she’s better off tied up anyway.
She’s making pancakes in the kitchen like she didn’t just disappear for hours after dark, with Fritz tailing her and sitting outside some arch bishop’s palace until she was done.
I need to get air, even if just for a moment.
So much could’ve happened. It was just her and one guy against all of the Santa Colombini, against Mobespierre Sanguine, against modern slavery in general.
We have no proof that they don’t have her information. If a single person mentions her name to Randolfo Santa Colombini, she’s toast. One single person discovering that she’s my love, and she’s the torture victim of the century.
