The Mafia Boss Who Captivated Me

LORENZO

Max stretches his neck, his dark eyes fixed on the man currently lying on the floor at my feet with blood running from his ears and a piss stain on the crotch of his pants.

"I don't think he knows anything, Loz."

I kick the piece of shit in the chest and he coughs blood onto the floor. "You hear anything from Iman and you'll let me know?"

He sputters some more.

"Pretty sure he can't hear a fucking thing you said after you burst his eardrums," Max says with a dark chuckle.

"Hmm." I look at the two metal kebab skewers on the ground, coated with his blood. This dog turd and his boss are the least of my problems right now, but they disrespected one of our biggest investors at our own casino, and for that they must pay. I crouch down on my heels, grabbing his jaw in my hands and squeeze hard, forcing him to meet my glare. "Tell Iman I want to see him." I mouth each word carefully so he can read my lips. "Or you both die. Understand me?" He nods furiously, aware that the fact he's still breathing is nothing short of a miracle. I'm not usually such a man of mercy, especially these days. I don't know what the fuck's gotten into me.

I stand up, brushing the creases from my suit pants and follow Max out of the restaurant.

"You had some kind of epiphany or something, Loz?" Max asks me as we climb into his car.

"Fuck you," I mutter, making him laugh.

"Hey, I'm happy not having to help dispose of dead bodies every other day."

"Yeah, well don't get used to it." I lean back in my seat, close my eyes, and pinch the bridge of my nose. I'm so fucking agitated. I have no idea why I didn't kill that stupid fuck in there. I barely slept at all last night. Every damn time I tried to doze off, all I could see were dangerous curves wrapped in orange fabric. Holy mother of fucks, why did she have to come to dinner dressed like that? Not that it was inappropriate, but it was way too distracting. My cock twitches.

Fuck! I scrunch my eyes tighter, trying to rid my brain of the memory of her in that goddamn dress. And why is her seat at the table directly opposite mine, where I have no choice but to look at her all fucking night? Is it not bad enough that she's invaded my library? Now she's invaded my every waking thought. And that ass ... so fine it should have its own national holiday.

"I got some information on Deputy Superintendent Hayes," Max says.

My eyes snap open and I turn to him, thankful for an entirely different kind of distraction.

"Seems he was a beat cop back in Boston when Brad was a rookie. They were partners for a year before Hayes applied for a transfer. He moved to Chicago and rose up the ranks pretty quick."

"So they're old partners? Buddies?"

"Not buddies from what I hear. Seems like Hayes's move was related to some kind of fallout between him and Brad."

I run a hand over my beard. "You learn what that was about?"

"Not yet."

"If they're not buddies, Brad must have something on Hayes." "Makes sense."

I grind my teeth. My jaw ticks. "Find out what it is, Max."

He doesn't ask me if I'm going to ask Mia if she knows anything about it, even though I can tell that's what he's thinking. But after my reaction at the casino yesterday, he holds his tongue, for which I'm grateful. Mia Stone brings out my protective streak, and I'm not prepared to consider why.

And I'm certainly not ready to have anyone else think about it either.

***

My thoughts are still on Deputy Superintendent Hayes and what Brad Mulcahy might have on him when I walk into the library. Her sweet scent fills my nostrils, and I stop in my tracks. Of course she's in here. She's always in here. Fuck. I need space from her. Space to think clearly.

"You okay?" she asks breezily as she continues to pull papers from a brown cardboard box.

I realize I'm still standing in the doorway, probably looking like I forgot what I came in here for. "Yeah." I stride over to my desk, refusing to glance in her direction with the hope that she'll take the hint that I'm busy and don't have time for her endless chattering.

"It's beautiful out today, right? I know it's cold, but it's so bright and fresh. I took a walk in the gardens earlier, and I had no idea-"

"Mia!" Squeezing my eyes shut, I rub my temples. "Do you have to talk all the goddamn time?"

Even from here, I see her throat constrict and her cheeks flush pink. A pang of guilt slices through my chest. I'm annoyed and frustrated, and yes, a lot of that has to do with her, but that's not exactly her fault.

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"I'm s-sorry," she says softly, wringing her hands in front of her. God, I'm such a fucking prick. She continues before I can apologize for snapping at her. "I know I talk way too much. Brad always told me that too. He hated it ;..." She shakes her head like she's trying to dislodge an unwanted memory. Curling my fingers into fists at my sides, I curse silently, annoyed at myself. "I'll give you a little peace and quiet." She bows her head and walks silently from the room, leaving me to stare after her, feeling like the world's most insensitive asshole. I despise him for making her feel bad for being who she is. But I despise myself even more for having anything in common with that motherfucker.

I should go after her and apologize. Tell her she doesn't need to change a single thing about herself for anyone. But I don't. Better she knows what an insensitive, heartless bastard I am than think there's anything but anger, despair, and bitterness inside me.

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With my eyes closed and my palms flat on the tiled wall, I stand in the shower. Usually, the scalding water takes the edge off a little, but not today. Nothing soothes me lately. Pent-up tension and rage bristle beneath my skin. My muscles are tense as fuck. My cock is rock hard and has been for the past hour. After Mia left the library, I kept seeing that tormented look I put on her face. The hurt I etched there. And then I imagined her gazing at me like that for an entirely different reason. What if I could give her a completely different kind of hurt? The kind that walks the thin line between pleasure and pain.

No! I shake my head and bang my fists on the tiles and imagine Anya's face. Blue eyes and ash-blond hair. High cheekbones and pale pink lips.

I squeeze the base of my shaft hard, waiting for the relief to seep into my bones, but none comes. I pump fast, hoping some of the tension will start to dissipate as a climax builds. But it doesn't. Nothing helps.

Screwing my eyes tightly shut, I comb through the memories I have saved for moments like these. The thousands of times I fucked my wife. But they all elude me. All I can see is Mia's face. The pain. The way she smiles even when she's hurting. Heat sears in my chest, tightening my balls. Would she smile like that if I ...

"Fuck!" I roar, banging my clenched fist against the wall.

I can't think about anyone but Anya while I'm jacking off. Can't think about anything but her beautiful body. That's the way it's been for as long as I can remember. That's the way it will always be. But when I close my eyes again, even her face eludes me.

I press my forehead against the cool tiled walls and release my grip on my aching cock. It throbs painfully, but there's no relief for me if it's not with her.