The Man in Black_A Standalone Mafia Romance

by Soraya Naomi

  However, I’m jostled out of my thoughts when I pass the white-brick skyscraper and see Ivo’s car parked in front of the building. Hitting the gas, I get to my garage, jump out of my BMW, and take the elevator to the fifth floor.

  Once I’m inside my apartment, I pace to the window and stare across the street at Brielle’s third floor apartment. The evening light makes it difficult for me to distinguish anything until I see a flash of movement in her living room. Squinting, I make out Ivo’s shadow standing very close to Brielle’s luscious form right before he dips his head as if he’s going to kiss her.

  She ignored my warning!

  Spinning around, I smack the vase off the side table and it crashes to the floor, splintering into a thousand pieces.

  “Motherfucker!” I plow both my hands through my hair and then reach for my phone in my pocket, but it’s empty. “Christ!” With everything that’s going on, I must have left it at Palermo.

  At that moment, the doorbell buzzes, and as I pass the window, I refuse to look across the street, frustrated and furious at Brielle.

  Stomping to the door, I press the buzzer and the receptionist says, “Mr. Carrion, Marliya’s here with your phone. Can I send her up?”

  “Yes,” I answer.

  And after a minute, I yank open the door to find Marliya there, holding up my phone. “Hey, you forgot this.”

  I take it, and when I unlock the screen with my passcode, I see missed messages from Adriano. “Thanks. I have to answer a text real quick.”

  “Okay. No problem.”

  Adriano: Update me.

  Michael: I’m working on it and chances are, the spy is Ivo. But give me more time. I’ve only been back a week and we still have three more until the shipment actually comes.

  Adriano: Work as fast as you can.

  Michael: You know I am.

  Although, to be honest, I’m completely preoccupied and maybe even off my game due to these emotions Brielle brings out in me.

  “Can I come in?” Marliya questions.

  My livid state of mind has me widening the door and inviting her in, which is a choice I will come to regret.

  CHAPTER 34

  Brielle

  AS I STAND IN MY LIVING room with Ivo, my mind is obsessed with another man. But while I feel such a deep desire for this other man, I let Ivo inside in defiance. Defiance of what, however, I don’t know.

  Ivo starts talking, but I retreat into myself until he inches closer and leans down, cupping my face gently, not in the firm, possessive manner Michael does. All of a sudden, I realize he’s getting ready to kiss me, but I turn my cheek to him, and as I look out the window, I see shadows of movements through the open curtains of Michael’s apartment across the street.

  Even though I don’t want to be mean to Ivo, I suggest, “Let’s take it slow, okay?”

  He’s so easygoing that he just smiles. “Okay. You must be tired. Maybe we can have dinner Sunday?”

  “Sure, we’ll do that,” I answer, but I can’t concentrate because I’m dying to check the Blackhall again. So I immediately walk him to the door and open it to see him out.

  “Good night,” he says and exits, none the wiser.

  I shut the door and rush back to the arched window, scrutinizing the fifth floor of Michael’s glass high-rise like a stalker, not understanding how I can be in the same place as before with Michael – aching for him to feel something for me. To my horror, I see two people in his living room at the terrarium: Michael and Marliya.

  This time, when moisture pools in my eyes, I can’t swallow it back. I rest my palm against the window and a lone tear streams out as she stands close in front of him and touches his arm familiarly, it seems.

  What does she have that I don’t?

  The void Michael left behind grows. He has some sort of destructive power over me. I realize I’m being a masochist by watching him with another woman when tears trickle down my cheeks.

  Unable to look at them anymore, I go to my bedroom, but when nausea churns in my gut, I run into my adjacent bathroom and kneel at the toilet. I throw up, my stomach convulsing as it empties out. Standing up shakily, I brush my teeth before curling up in bed without changing my clothes. My mouth tightens as I cry, knowing Michael will never care for me in the way that I care for him. When that truth slams into me, I’m even more miserable. I keep hoping for more when he’s being nice, just to be disappointed again. It’s excruciatingly painful to long for someone who’s unattainable, so I try to escape my reality in sleep.

  IT’S NOON WHEN I CROSS the wide, busy street toward the Blackhall, my frantic state perfectly mirrored by the frenzied wind blowing my hair around my face. Wearing my dark-wash jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt, I shiver because it’s unseasonably cool today. Even though the sky is grey, I put on my aviator sunglasses, the thin gold and silver bangles on my wrist clinking together as I slide them over my ears.

  Yet I stop cold when I see Ivo getting out of his car two shops down from the Blackhall. Not in the mood for him, I turn around, but unfortunately, he glances backward and notices me, so I approach his car. As he shuts his door, he appears to block the window by shifting sideways slightly; however, before he can do so, I manage to peek inside and see three phones and a gun on the passenger seat. Since I’m wearing my glasses, he doesn’t catch me.

  “Hey! What are you doing here?” I act casual, suspicion rearing up.

  What’s up with all these people having guns, and why does he have more than one phone?

  “Picking up dry cleaning,” he answers, seemingly in a hurry, which is fine by me.

  As we say our goodbyes, he pecks my cheek, and I rush to the Blackhall.

  Once I’m in the lobby, I tell the receptionist, “I’m going up.” I’m already on the clearance list that’s required because of the building’s tight security.

  “Okay, I’ll call the apartment for you, Miss Duchenne.”

  “Thank you.” When I get on the elevator, I remove my glasses and slip them into the collar of my shirt as I ride up to the penthouse where the door opens immediately.

  Fallon’s awaiting me, her brow puckered as she ushers me inside. “Hey, what’s wrong? Have you been crying? Your eyes are a bit swollen.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t sleep.” I tread to her couch by the floor-to-ceiling windows and take a seat as she sits on the table opposite me.

  “Because of Michael? What happened?” she probes.

  “I like him so much, but he’s been with Marliya.” There’s a tremble in my voice.

  She tucks her brown hair behind her ear. “What do you mean? Is there something going on between them?”

  “He was on a date with her yesterday after he kissed me the day before. Then she was in his apartment last night, but he doesn’t let anyone inside his home, so it has to mean something.” I pause. “I think he slept with her.”

  “Oh, Brielle.” Fallon moves to sit next to me, throwing her arm around my shoulder and comforting me. “You seem to know a lot about Michael. How did you know that he doesn’t let anyone inside his apartment?”

  “He told me that I was the first woman he let into his home. I know too much yet too little about him, and he’s messing with my mind. Or maybe he’s playing the same game with Marliya that he did with me because he’s still lost in grief and just using people. He can be so nice yet so broody. He hasn’t changed.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything going on between Michael and Marliya,” she objects. “But I thought you forgot about Michael?”

  “I didn’t want to tell you everything and put you in the middle since you’re his friend too, but I need to vent now. I don’t get how he can be sweet and an ass at the same time or why he treats me this way. I don’t think his therapy worked. Clearly, Rachel was the love of his life and her death fucked him up.”

  “It’s not that at all,” she defends, and since she seems fairly sure, I wonder what Fallon knows that I don’t.

  “It is that. Why is he te
mperamental and secretive? Because he’s messed up!” I snap before I take in a breath and mutter, “Regardless of that, what does Marliya have that I don’t?”

  She worries her lip. “Don’t go down that path.”

  “I keep hoping for something that doesn’t come. He’s not once said he was sorry or that he actually thought about me while he was away. No, he just came back to toy with me for a second time.” Suddenly, my stomach rumbles and my hand flies to my mouth. “Oh, god, I’m nauseated.”

  “Since when?” Fallon’s tone becomes worried.

  “Yesterday. Why?”

  A crease crosses her forehead. “You’re not pregnant are you? Did you and Michael use protection?’

  I swallow heavily, racking my brain before admitting, “No...But I got my period.” I’m sure I’m not pregnant.

  At that moment, the elevator slides open, so I hurriedly dry my cheeks with my sleeve as Fallon looks over my shoulder, and then she makes a face at me.

  As I peek behind me, Adriano and Luca stroll inside, followed by none other than the man in black: Michael, who’s wearing his black slacks and dress shirt, making him stand out like the dark angel he is. He’s clean-shaven and his thick hair is combed back yet falls to the side. It appears that he had a much better night than I did.

  He stops short and his ashy-grey gaze lands on me before it moves to Fallon. Then when I turn back to her, I see her shaking her head to Michael while she stands up as if nothing’s wrong. I inconspicuously sweep another palm over my cheek to hide my tears before smiling at Luca and Adriano, and all of a sudden, it hits me that I have no idea what Luca’s role at Palermo is? Adriano handles most of the daily business and Michael’s the security director, but what does Luca do? That’s when I again notice the peculiar dynamic between Luca, Adriano, Michael, and Fallon. They seem to communicate with a mere glance, and my gut screams at me that there’s something going on here that I don’t know about.

  “Hey, what are you doing home?” Fallon asks as she goes to Luca, who smacks a kiss against her mouth and holds up a brown carton.

  “I brought you this, dolcezza.” Luca stares at his wife as if she’s the only woman in the world after he dips his chin at me.

  Fallon opens the carton and bends forward to smell a chocolate cake. I recognize it instantly.

  “Thank you,” she comments around a radiant smile.

  He kisses her forehead in such a sweet yet possessive manner. They have a kind of love I can only dream of. While I’m happy for them, it makes me feel more miserable at present. Particularly because I sense Michael’s glower branding me as I ignore him.

  “What are you two doing?” Luca questions.

  “I was just going,” I reply, and Fallon’s eyes cut to me. “I have to work.”

  “Okay,” she says as I walk around the couch and make a beeline for the elevator, completely bypassing Michael.

  Fallon’s right behind me as I push the button. “Sorry,” she whispers. “I’ll call you later, okay? Or call me whenever you want.”

  “I will,” I reply, and when the elevator opens, Michael suddenly spins around and strides to us, his hard stare fixated on me.

  “We need to talk,” he orders – of course, he doesn’t ask.

  “No, we don’t,” I retort, and his mouth tightens as Fallon glimpses back and forth between us. I need to collect myself before I have a conversation with Michael, and he’ll never give me the answers I want anyway. I know now that I’ve been a fool, so I get into the elevator.

  “Brielle,” he starts in a low tone, running a hand through his hair.

  I push the ground floor button and glare at him, making his brow furrow, but when the door finally swooshes closed, I release a loaded sigh.

  Feeling even worse now than when I got to Fallon’s, I head to work.

  I FOREGO WEARING MY chef’s jacket as I prep desserts for half an hour with a handful of servers milling around and setting the tables for tonight. While I’m refilling the jar of flour, I’m not paying attention and it overflows, so I set the bag down and use my finger to sweep the powder on the rim into the jar. Then when my nose tickles, I rub it as I grumble about the mess I made.

  At that second, the door swings open with a loud bang and my gaze shoots to it, my heart dropping to my feet.

  “Leave us alone for a moment. Everyone out except Brielle,” Michael commands and snaps his fingers, holding open the door for the three servers to rush out.

  I simply continue cleaning up flour, speaking with my back to him, “You can’t come in here barking orders. You’re not our chef.”

  His boots click off the floor with near-military precision as he marches toward me. Abruptly, my arm is seized and I’m yanked around as Michael dips his head, crowding me and pulling me up on my tiptoes. “You seem to forget that I’m in charge.”

  “Let. Go. Of. Me!” I shout.

  He rears back from the sharpness in my voice, and then his eyes darken. “What’s wrong with you? Are you okay?” He tenses as he awaits my answer.

  “No,” I reveal, summoning up the courage to speak my mind.

  CHAPTER 35

  Michael

  “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU? Are you okay?” I demand.

  “No,” she spews, astounding me and jerking free to take a big step backward. “Because of you.”

  “What are you talking about?” I don’t get why she’s mad since she spent the night with another man. I wondered why it appeared as if she’d been crying when I saw her at Fallon’s. That’s why, even though it wasn’t smart, I told the others I had to leave, and I bolted out of there to come after her.

  “I’ll never fall in love with someone else’s lover,” she whispers and looks down, fidgeting with her fingers.

  I inch closer and touch her chin, lifting her gaze. Then I brush the flour from her nose and she freezes.

  “What do you mean, Brielle?” I ask calmly.

  She slaps my hand away. “Go bother Marliya – she’s still oblivious to your game.”

  “What game?!” I snarl, arcing a brow.

  Her green irises spark with fury, and she’s stunningly feisty as she launches into a long monologue, “I’m not sure, but you toy with a lot of women, I think. You kissed me and then had a date with Marliya yesterday! You reel me in with your charm but never call or message me. You’re so confusing! And still, you keep playing with me.”

  “That wasn’t a date. I’d agreed to a drink but just as friends. Ask her.”

  “Yeah, right! It seemed like a date.”

  “I don’t know why...” I counter, aggravation seeping in, and I don’t know if I want to throttle her or kiss her.

  “Because she ended up in your apartment,” she discloses, and now I’m intrigued because I didn’t know she was watching me last night – I thought she was fixated on Ivo who was in her apartment.

  God, this woman brings out the deepest longings in me.

  “I saw the two of you, after you told me that you don’t let women inside your apartment.”

  “And you defied me and let him inside. How was your night?” I hiss.

  She lets out a mocking laugh. “Evidently, not as good as yours.”

  I instantly speculate about what she means since she’s being cryptic, which only stirs my interest more, and I fight the fire she fuels within me that, at some point, might explode with her caught in the blaze.

  But then she adds, “Besides, do you know what Fallon told me? To be more aware of my surroundings. And I have been. I’m not just some young girl – I know there’s something going on at Palermo between Adriano, Luca, you, and Fallon. So tell me, why are you so secretive?”

  I’m shocked silent for a second since I never foresaw that she suspected us, and then I lamely respond, “We simply run Palermo, and I’m not secretive.”

  “So since there’s nothing between you and Marliya and nothing’s up at Palermo, as you claim – which I don’t believe, FYI – you must have been right when you warned me whe
n we first met. You must just be a fucked up man because you lost the love of your life. You left and came back as if nothing happened to then do the same thing to me again!” Her heart-shaped face is a mask of sadness that pulls at my heartstrings. Apparently the organ is still there.

  Although I lash out since she’s jumping to all the wrong conclusions. “You’re really pissing me off. What’s between you and Ivo? And why are you actually mad?”

  Brielle dismisses my questions with a wave of her hand and swivels around to angrily grab the jar of flour. I shift behind her and imprison her as I frequently do to inhale her sweet jasmine perfume, planting my hands on the counter on each side of her and whispering against her cheek, “Do you think that I fucking like seeing you with him?! Does he kiss you? Does he fuck you? Or do you think of me when you’re with him; is that why you’re upset?” I press my front to her alluring backside, yet she attempts to push me back, which I enjoy way too much.

  “Go away.” She keeps her gaze down, obstinate woman that she is, and pretends to ignore me, but I hear her breath hitch.

  “This isn’t over,” I finish the discussion with the words I’ve spoken to her before, and then I let go of the counter and walk out of the kitchen, hearing her expel a fuming grunt before I leave Palermo.

  “SHE KNOWS,” I INFORM Fallon the moment I step inside her penthouse.

  She stops stirring her tea as she stands at the kitchen island. “Knows what?”

  “That something’s up at Palermo. That we – Adriano, Luca, you, and me – aren’t simply management.”

  “What—no, first, you went after her immediately?”

  “Of course.” I stand opposite her.

  “What does she think is going on?”

  “She doesn’t have a scenario. She has noticed that something’s off, though, and she’s confused. Did she ever tell you that she suspects anything?”

  “No,” Fallon says, surprised. “I’m impressed.”