KYLE: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 4)

by Glenna Sinclair

  She froze, panic rising in her throat. Oh, God. What if I’m wrong and that’s exactly what he wants to do? She strode back into her room for her wool overcoat. She needed air, and badly. Grabbing her keys, she bolted out of the apartment and down to the street.

  The first blast of frosty December air smacked her in the face and stung her eyes. She drew in a sharp breath at the initial shock. “Whoa.”

  Laura had no idea why she was so worked up over this. She had been engaged to him before. This go round was proving to be rock solid and was moving along smoothly, so why be so crazy about committing?

  She dropped down onto the stoop as the realization dawned on her: maybe she didn’t fully trust him again. She’d told him explicitly she would let the dominatrix thing go and treat them as being brand new again. Maybe she hadn’t yet.

  Mason had done nothing to deserve being doubted, and they spent nearly all of their free time together; they were in constant contact otherwise if they weren’t actually with each other.

  “I’m so stupid. Just go back inside, dummy.” Laura rose and padded back towards the elevator. As she approached her front door, she slowed and looked around. She didn’t see anybody, but couldn’t help the feeling someone was watching.

  Taped at eye level on the heavy metal door was a plain white envelope. Her blood turned to ice. Alarmed, she scanned around again for anybody that may be lurking. That note had not been there when she’d come outside ten minutes before.

  She snatched the paper and let herself in, securing every lock behind her. With shaking hands, she tore into the envelope and dumped the contents on her counter. Dried rose petals the color of merlot rained down on the granite and into her sink. A slip of notebook paper fell out last. The roses had left their lingering aroma on the blue-lined sheet.

  A sense of foreboding tied a knot in her shoulder muscles as she unfolded the paper. Drawn inside was a bouquet of thirteen red roses and a short quote:

  They played at hearts as other children might play at ball; only, as it was really their two hearts that they flung to and fro, they had to be very, very handy to catch them, each time, without hurting them.

  She opened her junk drawer and swept the rose petals and letter into the cubby and slammed it shut. She leaned against the drawer as if the contents would spring to life and attack her.

  Balling her hands into fists, she squeezed her eyes shut and willed her body to stop shaking. No good would come from her going off the rails. She could not tell Mason her admirer had started up again after more than two months of silence.

  She tapped her fingernail against her teeth in thought. She would keep this quiet and in a few days they would be out of the country. She would just tell every neighbor on her floor where she was going and how long she would be gone. Someone would always be home to keep an eye on the place.

  The clock on her stove ticked over to 4am. There was no point in going to bed. She would just lie there and slip slowly into madness doing that. Instead, Laura sprawled out on her couch and pulled her 1970s afghan over her and flipped the TV on. After switching through a few channels, she settled on an episode of I Love Lucy and hoped for the best.

  ***

  Four episodes later, the sun peeked up over the skyline, beaming warmth and promise through Laura’s balcony doors and windows. Shades of pink danced over Laura’s sallow skin and burned her dried out eyes. Sleep did not make an appearance that night.

  She heard her mattress squeak and footsteps fall across her bedroom floor.

  “Laura? What happened to you last night? Are you all right?” Mason scrubbed his hands over his face in an attempt to fully wake up.

  “I’m just not feeling well,” she lied. “My stomach was cramping last night and I couldn’t sleep, so I came out here so you could get some sleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.” She hugged the blanket tighter around her body, creating a protective cocoon of yellow and orange wool.

  Mason walked over and sat on the opposite end of the couch, pulling her feet into his lap. Without prompting he massaged her feet and ankles.

  “Mmmm. That feels amazing. Thank you.” Laura blissfully closed her eyes and drank in the relaxation. The man had magic hands.

  “I can get you something if you’d like.” He circled his thumbs over her soles.

  “Just keep doing that, please.” Slowly the rest of her body relaxed itself, and she sank into the couch cushions. “I’ll be functional after I get some food and caffeine in me. With any luck I may survive until six.”

  “Okay. I just wanted to remind you that I’m going to need to be home tonight for a conference call with my Japanese partners. Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night?” Mason had asked her twice the day before, but each time she’d turned him down.

  “No. I’ll stay home. It’ll give me a chance to do all of the weird girlie rituals I don’t want you to see, like waxing my moustache and picking my zits.”

  Mason grimaced. “Don’t forget the ones on your bum.”

  “I’ll be fine tonight. Give me a chance to miss you, babe.” Laura rubbed her free foot across Mason’s upper thigh as a tease.

  “Point taken, darling.”

  Mason couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was definitely wrong. He didn’t like the way she looked. Her face was drawn and pale, and bags had formed under her eyes and were growing heavier and darker in color with each passing day.

  Laura had always slept like a stone, too, even when she was ill. He decided not to push the issue. If something were bothering her then she would tell him eventually.

  In the meantime, he would just try to take care of her and shoulder as much as she would let him. Mason was hoping that maybe getting away for a while would take some of the stress off of her shoulders.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Okay, thanks so much. I’ll see you in January.” The last call had been made. Laura slouched back into her chair and covered her face with her notebook. She was so tired her head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. She couldn’t remember a time when she was so happy for a lunch break.

  She tossed the notebook on her desk and stretched. A mega roast beef sandwich from Carve was what her day needed. She shrugged on her overcoat. It had been her first major purchase after being promoted to her current position the prior year.

  She had stopped dead in her tracks as the mint green cashmere coat called her name from the Burberry storefront. She normally didn’t give a rat’s ass about labels, but this coat was begging for her to take it home. She wore it every single day the weather dipped below fifty degrees. She was getting every penny out of it.

  Her $15 faux leather purse from the Target clearance rack looked really outlandish against the rest of her outfit, but she really didn’t care.

  Locking her office behind her, she walked two doors down and popped her head into Daniel’s office. “I’m taking a two hour lunch. Call me if you need me.” Without looking away from his computer screen, he flashed her a thumbs up and she left the room. Laura wondered if he had actually heard the words she had spoken or if he was just acknowledging that he heard a voice.

  She sprinted to the elevator just before the doors closed. She gave the three men inside a look of doom for not stopping the doors when she hollered at them.

  The bell dinged and the doors parted. Without a word, Laura set off through the lobby, her heels clicking on the terrazzo. The sound echoed off the walls of the quiet space.

  She looked both ways and pushed open the doors. She didn’t notice a man in a Yankees cap slip out the door behind her and into the crowd.

  He maintained a half a block distance;just close enough to keep her in his sight line.

  He zeroed in on her gait, the way her ass shook when she walked and the way her purse tapped against her thigh in a hypnotic rhythm. The man stared at the way her waist length blonde hair stood out against the pale green of her coat, his eyes followed the swishing across her back; back and forth.

  For a mo
ment he wanted to rush up and run his fingers through her pale locks to wrap the softness around his wrists and fingers. He had to hang back, force himself to be patient. Eventually she would realize how much he loved her and she would come around, even if he had to take out that Decker asshole to make it happen.

  He watched Laura saunter into Carve and kept walking to the Starbucks across the street. After ordering a black coffee he sat down at one of the tables that butt up against the glass. Laura chose a seat at the window counter. He was lucky indeed.

  The man pulled out his phone and zoomed in to snap a few pictures. He noted how dainty she ate, never getting food on her chin or her clothes. Every move she made was so erotic and precious to him. He could easily imagine that perfect mouth on his cock as she leaned in for another bite. He caught a still shot of her mid-bite with her mouth open. Perfect.

  The man switched to Candy Crush in case anyone happened to look over his shoulder, but paid no attention to the colorful orbs and striped wrappers. His focus was on the woman across the street and what token to send her next.

  ***

  Laura had stuffed herself into a food stupor. The very thought of waddling back to the office felt like running the New York Marathon. Unlike that particular race, she had to get back to the rat race. She looked out the window at the Starbucks across the street and just knew she would need an espresso just to make it back to the office.

  She scooted her stool away from the counter and dumped her tray. Her watch told her she only had half an hour left. She lingered at the restaurant a lot longer than she had meant to.

  She quickly joined the group crossing the street and bolted into the coffee shop, narrowly missing getting disgusting New York slush water splashed on her by a truck.

  Laura approached the counter. A tall, gawky barista with braces greeted her. “Hello. Welcome to Starbucks. What can I get for you?”

  “Hi, there. Can I get a double espresso please?”

  “Absolutely. Can I get you anything else? We still have some cranberry orange scones left.”

  “No thanks. I just had lunch. The coffee will do for now.”

  He totaled out Laura’s order and swiped a gift card. “Your remaining balance is $46.28.” He told her as he handed the card to her across the counter.

  Laura frowned in confusion as she took the little green card. “Um, thanks, but what is this?”

  “Oh, there was a guy here that bought this and said to use it on whatever you ordered and to just give you whatever was left.”

  Laura’s skin prickled. He was here! “What did this guy look like?”

  “Uh, kinda tall, but not too tall. He had dark hair too.”

  “Uh huh.” That was useless information. In a city of nearly five million men, four and a half million fit that description. “Well, thanks then.” she said as she pocketed the gift card.

  Stepping out onto the sidewalk she examined the surrounding blocks. Every warning bell went off in her head that danger was close by. “You can’t throw a rock without hitting a tallish, dark-haired guy.” Laura muttered to herself. A group of ten Wall Street types approached her from the other end of West 47th. Seven of them fit that description.

  Instead of walking she hailed a taxi. If someone was around and watching she wanted to make her getaway as fast as possible.

  A cab pulled up to the curb. She hopped in and gave the address before slouching down and hiding in the seat. At the next stoplight she cracked the window open and flicked the gift card out into the street; to hell with the littering laws.

  As soon as the car pulled up to the office building she tossed a $20 bill at the driver and sprinted into the building. She’d just horribly overpaid for the five block trip, but it didn’t matter. She was in relative safety now.

  She waved off every person who wanted to speak to her and dashed into her office. She locked the door behind her so she could collapse into a shivering heap in peace.

  When she had regained enough of her wits to stand, she froze again. On her desk were a photo and a single blood-colored rose lying on her blotter. She reached out a shaking hand to examine the picture. It was a camera phone shot of her at Carve from that very afternoon. She flipped the photo over. The white side was mercifully blank; no twisted poem this time.

  With a muffled cry she knocked the picture and the flower into the trash and disappeared down to Daniel’s office. He was the only other person outside of the janitor and herself that had a key to her office.

  She paused at his door and smoothed her trousers, composing herself before knocking. “Come in!”

  Laura took a deep breath and plastered a fake smile on her face as she entered. “Hi, Daniel. You got a minute?”

  “Sure. Come sit.”

  Laura shook her head. “I just needed to know, does anybody else have a key to my office besides you, me, and the janitor?”

  “No. Why do you ask?” Daniel cocked his head to one side and furrowed his brow.

  “I just went into my office and saw that my trash was taken out even though I locked up before I left. I know Joey isn’t here until after hours to clean up, so I was just wondering.”

  “Sorry. Can’t help you, kid. There are only the three copies. Nothing has gone missing I hope?”

  Laura rubbed her hands together. “Not that I’ve seen so far, but I haven’t looked yet. I came straight to you.”

  Daniel stroked his goatee in thought. “Take a look around. If it makes you feel better I can look into getting the lock changed.”

  “That would make me feel better, thank you.”

  “I’ll have Michelle send a note to the custodial staff in the morning.” Daniel turned back to his computer. “Oh, before I forget to ask, you did finish up with those interviews, yes?”

  Laura chuckled and shook her head. “Yeah. They are all called and on the schedule for January and February.”

  “Super. Have a good night.”

  Leave it to Daniel to turn a near sincere moment of concern back into something work related. If anybody needed a vacation, it was him.

  Laura plodded back to her office to shut everything down early. Being up all night and stressed all day had caught up with her. It was all she could do to keep her limbs moving.

  She slipped on her coat and grabbed her purse. With one more backwards glance at the nefarious contents of her trashcan, she locked the door behind her and contemplated calling in sick the next day.

  On the subway ride home, her mind was fuzzy, but she kept her eyes peeled for anyone that looked sketchy. She felt silly, because like a typical New York subway ride everybody on board was totally engrossed in their own lives, either on their phones or working on their laptops.

  Her stop couldn’t come fast enough. Laura peeled herself off of the vinyl seat and staggered from the car. The two-block walk to her apartment may as well have been a hike up Mount Saint Helen, for all the energy she had left.

  ***

  There she was again. Her perfect beauty marred by the dark smudges under her eyes. Was that fucker hurting her or keeping her awake at odd hours? The man twitched at the thought of that blue blood’s hands on his woman.

  He snapped a picture of her through the smudged subway window before the train pulled away. He stroked his index finger over the image on his screen. “Soon, my love, we’ll be together,” he whispered to the photo.

  It was time to plan his next move. There was another poem he’d found, but he thought maybe he could skew the direction a bit. Doing something different would keep her guessing and excited.

  He found a beautiful ermine stole that had belonged to his mother in his attic. Maybe Laura would enjoy the softness of the fur around her neck. Then she would look like the queen she was. That was it. He would send her that as a gift, a Christmas gift for his love.

  Chapter Twenty

  As the elevator doors opened up to the sterile white of the hallway, Laura cautiously stepped out and closed her eyes. She even held her breath so she could hea
r for certain wheher somebody was walking around.

  The long hallway was blessedly quiet as she turned and moved toward her door. As she approached she slowed, dread settling on her shoulders. Would she find anything waiting for her?

  There was nothing taped to the door, but she was still unsettled. She had been so tired on the slog home, but the stress of approaching her home, the place meant to be her haven, had keyed her back up.

  She unlocked the door and slipped inside, quickly locking the door behind her. Again she strained her eyes and ears for the slightest clue that someone had even been near her apartment. Nothing. No alarm bells went off in her head, no sense that things were out of place, just the serenity of being home.

  Laura blew out her breath and slid down the wall to the floor and put her head on her knees. “Just breathe, girl,” she told herself. “You’re home now, and nobody is here. You’re safe.”

  As she counted her breaths the anxiety began to dissipate, and her body reminded her just how exhausted she was. Maybe it would be a night for a long bath and trashy gossip rags. That should be enough to soothe her nerves and distract her mind.

  She yelped as her phone went off. Normally, hearing “I Touch Myself” playing from her purse would have made her smile, but lately the slightest interruption freaked her out. “Hey, Mase. What’s going on?”

  “I’m just calling to check on you. Are you home?”

  “Yeah. I just got in a few minutes ago.” And nearly had a nervous breakdown in the process.

  “Good. I won’t keep you. I know you need your sleep, since you didn’t get any last night.”

  “Thanks. It didn’t really catch up with me until just a few minutes ago. So I’m gonna order out and take a nice long soak. Hopefully I’ll sleep better tonight.” She really meant she’d open a can of soup and hope for the best.