by Jane Henry
“Mia!” He grabs me by my arm and spins me around. "We need to talk."
I look at him, noticing those same stress lines from last night. Do the other girls see that, when they look at him? Or is it just the hunky silver fox they see? None of the pain. All of the hotness. I know who he is, and he’s known me since I was a child. The other girls know nothing.
“Get your hands off me, professor.”
“Mia…"
“I’m sorry, I don't have time to talk right now. Maybe you can go fuck yourself.”
His jaw tightens again. I’m sure if we were properly alone, he’d be whipping me until I couldn’t sit. But he’s not going to touch me ever again. He lost his chance.
“This isn't the time for games, Mia…”
“I’m not playing, professor. You think I came to Boston to find a teacher to fuck? No. I’m going to school to make a life for myself, because the last thing I intend to be is a mafia princess my whole life. Everything you value, I reject.”
“Well, princess," he growls. “I don't care what your values are. You’re coming with me. Now."
“I’m really not.” I pull my arm out of his hand.
“Mia… please. Come talk to me.” His tone changes. He sounds almost sorry, and like he's actually asking me, rather than barging in and just telling me what to do. Have I broken him that easily? I doubt it.
“Are you going to spank me if I do?” I fight the reaction of blushing when I ask that question, and fail.
“Not unless you ask me to.”
There’s a snowball’s chance in hell of me asking him to spank me, so I guess I’m safe. I let him lead me to his office. I guess there’s still some hopeful part of me that has the idea this can be made right, but I’m still mad as hell, and I don't see how he can make up for this in a million years.
He sits on the corner of his desk, one leg extended up along the top of it in a position which opens his crotch. I try to keep my eyes on his face, and not the taut fabric tent which hides the hardness I felt pressed against me last night.
“Yesterday evening did not go well,” he says in the understatement of the year.
“Yeah, no fucking kidding.”
“Stop cursing, Mia... you sound like…”
“You?” I finish his sentence. “I sound like you. You swear all the time. But it’s one rule for you and one for me, isn't it. You’re a hypocrite, and a bootlicker. And…”
“Mia,” he growls. “If anyone else spoke to me the way you are right now, I’d flay them alive. You know that, don't you?”
“Do I know you're violent? Sure. I know that. Do you expect me to be impressed? Scared? What? I've been around violent men my whole life, and contrary to your ideas about me, Enzo, I do know what this world is like. I don't want to be a part of it anymore.”
He shakes his head. "It's not that easy, Mia. You can't just go to college, hook up with a drug dealer and be free. You have Russo blood. That comes with responsibilities."
“My father already gave me the speech you're giving me," I tell him. "What do you want from me, Enzo?”
I know in my gut that this isn’t fair. This man in front of me holds all the cards. He's twice my age. He knows what being in love is like. He knows what making love is like. I don’t know either of those things, but I know I was on the precipice of both before he shoved me back out of the way.
I want to be taken seriously. I want to be a woman of the world. I want to be desired, pursued, respected. But Enzo makes me feel like the baby I am. I hate that. I hate that right now, my lower lip is starting to quiver, and my eyes are filling with those horrible tears that come from the fact he hurt my feelings. He made me all vulnerable, and he left me to go to sleep all alone, and now I don't know if I’ll ever be able to trust him again. We can’t do this. That’s what he said. He took everything away from me in four words.
“Mia…"
I pull away from him when he reaches for me. His embrace would have meant something yesterday, but not now. I am my father’s daughter, and once you fail me, I don't fucking forget it.
Chapter 10
Enzo
She’s hurt.
I should be determined to keep her safe no matter what, and if that means she gets hurt in the process, it’s an unfortunate but unavoidable consequence.
But she trusted me. She let her guard down and trusted me, and I fucked that up.
“Come here,” I say gently. I hurt her. I fucked this up. It’s on me to make it better. I want to hold her, tell her I’m sorry, bring her back to my apartment and cook her dinner and make slow, sweet love to her until the sun rises.
But what I want, and what has to happen, are two very different things.
“Actually, no,” she says, her eyes cold and hard. But I’ve seen those eyes grow soft. I’ve seen the way she bites her lip shyly, and fiddles with her hair, how her voice softens when she’s excited and how eager she is for someone to take care of her, to listen to her, to take her seriously.
“Mia,” I say, my tone laced with warning this time, and for one split second, it gets her attention. She needs me to take charge, even if she fights within herself every time.
When she gets to her feet and marches toward the door I follow her.
I’m not going to let her go. She won’t control this situation, because I have a fucking job to do, and goddammit, I’m going to do it. If she leaves now, who knows what kind of shit she’ll get into. Drugs with Davo, drinking with her friends, something reckless and thoughtless so she feels that rush of excitement again.
The same rush I could give her over my knee. Under my body. Tied to my bedposts.
Fuck.
“Mia, stop.”
She turns and looks at me over her shoulder, stares at my hand on her arm, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “We can’t do this,” she says, throwing my words back at me like a javelin.
I release her.
She opens the door, and she’s gone.
“Fuck,” I mutter. I slam my fist on my desk, pencils and paperclips scattering like dice on a craps table. She might walk away, but she can’t hide from me. I’ve still got my trackers on her. I pull out my screen, glaring at it. A text from Emilio.
Emilio: Tried to bring you coffee this morning, but you were already gone. Walking your princess to school?
Fuck off, I type, but my finger hovers over the keys. I have to play this right.
I’m practically begging him to report me. I have to find him, make sure he knows not to fuck around with this. Make sure he knows exactly what’s at stake if he does.
But first, Mia. I look at my feed. She’s at her next class, just down the hall.
I shoot Emilio another text.
Meet me outside the cafeteria for lunch. Campus picnic tables under the weeping willow.
We have to talk.
An hour and a half later, we’re sitting at the edge of the cafeteria. Students mill about with trays of food. Emilio pulls out a paper bag with a few slices of pizza and hands me one.
“Okay, man,” he says. “I saw your hands all over her ass last night. Spill.”
“First off, you don’t come in my apartment unannounced anymore.”
He folds his piece of pizza over, takes an enormous bite, then talks around the food he’s chewing.
“Why not?” He’s giving me shit and I know it. There’s a fine line between friends and loyalty in the family, and most know it. I’d tell anyone he’s my friend, but for enough money or prestige, he could turn me in.
“Because if you do, I’ll make sure Piero knows exactly what you were doing last month when you were supposed to be trailing the traitor in Chelsea, and I saved your ass. Remember?”
He was banging his chick-of-the-month, and I caught the guy before he slipped through our fingers.
He winces. “Touché.”
“Seems we both want to keep in Piero’s good graces.”
“Of course.”
“Nothing’s going on between m
e and his daughter.”
Emilio frowns. “You know, that’s too bad, man. That girl’s got it bad for you. And honestly, you could persuade Piero to your side.”
I groan, take my own slice of pizza, and take a bite. I chew thoughtfully for a moment, thinking about what he’s saying. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs. “It’s just that in the family, marrying strengthens us, you know? Piero trusted you enough to send you here to America. You fuck his daughter up, then yeah, you’re swimming with the goddamn fishes. You take care of her? Like good care of her? And if she really loves you? Well, hell, man, there ain’t nothing Piero Russo don’t give his daughter.”
“That’s bullshit,” I tell him, shaking my head. I polish off my pizza then pull out my phone and check her location again. I scowl at the screen. She’s still in class after it’s been dismissed? Did she stay for extra credit or something? What the hell?
“Why the fuck is she still in class?”
He looks over at my phone and smirks. “Girl pulled a fast one on ya, bro.”
“Shit.” I’ve got to go to class, but making sure she’s safe is higher on that list. I call her, knowing before I do that she won’t pick up. A man’s voice answers.
“Hello?”
“Who’s this?” I’m on my feet ready to throttle him.
“Hey, take it easy. I just found this phone on the floor of a classroom. When it rang I thought I’d answer it, maybe it was the person who owns it, but…”
“But what?”
“Well, the caller I.D. says ‘dickhead,’ so…I doubt that you’re the owner?”
I shake my head and roll my eyes heavenward.
“No, but I know where she lives. Where are you?”
He gives me his location, and five minutes later, I take the phone from a wide-eyed freshman.
“Professor,” he says in surprise.
Jesus, this is fucked up. I shove the phone in my pocket.
“Right. Well, I’ll return this to its rightful owner. Thank you.”
I’m sure he sees dickhead plastered across my forehead, but I walk away with as much dignity as I can muster.
Where the hell is she? Did she leave her phone on purpose, or did someone hurt her? Where is she right this very minute?
Jesus. I call my dean, tell him I’m unexpectedly sick, and swipe to the video feed on my phone. I stop short, staring at what I see. Every camera to her place has been disconnected.
She’s off the fucking grid.
I wish I didn’t walk to class. Even jogging, it seems like a huge distance between this campus and her apartment. I break into a run.
My breathing’s labored, sweat pouring down my body through this goddamn shirt and tie. I yank off the tie and run harder.
But my real fear is that maybe she didn’t do this on purpose. Maybe someone else did.
Fuck.
When I get to our street, I don’t see anything unusual. Nothing out of place, but if she’s really in danger, they’re likely pros. Someone trying to get back at Piero. Vengeance and retribution are our bread and butter.
I leap up the stairs to her apartment. The door’s unharmed, not broken into. Someone with a key, then? These houses are old, and even with the locks I’ve had installed, they aren’t foolproof.
I open her door, and for one brief moment in time, my heart stops.
This place is fucking trashed. Someone ransacked it. Tables upturned, pillows everywhere. The balcony door’s wide open.
“Mia!” I scream.
I don’t give a shit if the assailant’s still here.
Come at me, motherfucker.
“Mia!”
There’s no sign of struggle. No blood, no evidence that she was hurt. Has she even come home yet? I look to the left and see her bag on the ground, the contents scattered on the floor. My stomach twists. She saw it. She came home, she saw this, and she ran. Either that, or they took her.
I draw my gun, cock it, and walk from room to room. I shove open closets, yank the shower curtain open, throw the blankets off the bed.
Nothing.
“Mia!” I continue to yell her name, hoping for an answer even though I know there isn’t a chance. She’s gone.
I do one final sweep around her apartment, toss the contents in her bag, and go to my place. I have to find her, and to do that, I need to arm myself.
If she wasn’t taken...she wouldn’t go to the police. She’s smart enough not to do that.
She doesn’t have her phone, so she can’t call her father.
I run to my place, only to find she’s huddled in a ball on the top step just outside my front door, her knees tucked up to her chest, shivering with cold, or fear, or both.
My heart squeezes, relief flooding through me so hard and fast I drop to one knee beside her. She’s okay. Thank fuck, she’s okay.
“Mia,” I whisper.
She bursts into tears.
I lift her to my chest and open the door, holding her as tightly as I can without hurting her. She needs to feel safe. My relief at finding her safe is so intense, I forgive everything.
I slam the door behind me, walk her up the stairs, and lock the deadbolt. Everything’s untouched. Either the person who ransacked her apartment didn’t know I was next door, or they thought better of fucking with me.
I sit on the sofa, and draw her to my chest, rocking her.
“Shh, bella,” I say. My anger at her has gone, and in its place, blessed relief. I will find whoever did this, and they will pay. She’s crying softly, soaking my shirt.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobs. “It was stupid of me.”
My body stills. “What was, Mia?”
“I left my phone in the classroom on purpose. I didn’t want you tracking me. I hated the idea of you watching me when I was so angry at you, and then when I came home—and I saw—” Her voice shakes, then she takes in a deep breath and carries on. Brave girl. Sweet, brave, girl. “I saw someone’d been in there, I couldn’t call you. So I came here.”
“You did the right thing. Well. You shouldn’t have left your phone, but you did the right thing coming here.”
All thoughts of distance between us flee. She needs to know she’s safe, and I’m going to do my best to show her that.
She nods into my chest. “Who did it?”
I shake my head. “No idea. Does anyone have a grudge against you?”
“No,” she says. “No one.”
“Even Davo?”
She shakes her head again. “Not at all. Today he asked if I wanted to make a purchase, but he was just as friendly as ever.”
I growl, and she actually giggles. “He’s fine,” she says. “Trust me.”
“I trust no one.”
She sits quietly on my lap. I brush the tears off her cheek and hold her. Thinking. Planning.
“We’ll have to call your father,” I say.
She sighs. “Right. Yes, I know.”
The next decision is much harder. “And you can’t go back there.”
She shakes her head. “No. But where will I go?”
She looks at me with eyes so wide and expectant, I want to give her anything she wants. The obvious answer is for her to stay with me, but it’s lighting a stick of dynamite.
I can’t send her to a hotel. None of our equipment’s in place, and she’ll be further away from me than she is now.
“First, we call your father.”
I take out my phone and dial Piero. It’s cocktail time in Calabria, just after dinner.
“Everything okay, Enzo?” he asks, skipping the greeting altogether.
“Yes and no,” I tell him. “Mia’s fine.”
I can hear him exhale on the other side of the phone.
“Her apartment was broken into. Looks like a robbery of sorts. But she’s unharmed, and she’s here with me.”
“Cavalo,” he curses. “You can’t see who it was on the feed?”
“No, sir. Whoever it was disabled the cameras.”
“It would have to be someone who knew they were there,” I say. I turn to Mia, who’s giving me a sheepish look.
I mute the phone. “What?”
“I…may have told a few friends when I was high last week,” she whispers.
I narrow my eyes at her and she looks suitably ashamed. “Why did you do that?” I hiss.
“I was high,” she hisses back. “And stupid.”
I give her a warning look and unmute the phone.
“She says she told some of her friends about them. So it could be any number of people.”
He curses again. “That daughter of mine,” he mutters. “It was a mistake, Enzo. I thought I could give her some freedom. She’s had a guard beside her her whole life. I thought I could set her up next door, let her be protected at a distance.”
I know where this is going. And even though I agree with him, even though there’s no fucking way I’ll let her out of my presence after this, I dread what he’s going to say next.
“Send her home,” he says.
That was not what I was expecting.
“Send her home?”
“No,” Mia breathes, her eyes wide. She’s on her feet. “Give me the phone!”
I shake my head at her.
“Are you sure that’s wise, Piero? She just started class.”
“And someone wants to hurt her!”
“I’ll keep her with me. I’ll keep her by my side at all times.”
Her beautiful eyes widen even further and she covers her mouth. Piero mutters to himself.
“Porca miseria. I want her safe, Enzo. Cared for. Protected.”
I hold her gaze as I respond, “We both want that, sir.” I repeat it for her benefit. “For her to be safe, cared for, and protected.”
Her eyes soften. She reaches for my hands and entwines my fingers with hers. I bring our folded hands to my lips and kiss them.
“I’ll compromise. Yes. This one time, I’ll compromise,” he says. “She can stay, but only if you keep her with you. By your side. You tell Mia she will stay in your apartment in the spare bedroom until further notice. I want you under the same roof, so I know she’s safe.”
