Page 4 of Hustler in the Mafia
She was sex on a stick, even though her cheeks were hollow and her eyes sunken in. I could see what she would be like with good food for a week.Fuck!I could see exactly what she would look like down on her knees with those pretty pink lips wrapped around my thick cock.
She was smart, light, and flexible. None of the other men seemed to have noticed her. Which didn’t bode well for my security. But she couldn’t outsmart me. I’d seen her three nights ago, creeping out of her hiding place behind the trees.
My first instinct should have been to yank her by her ear and kick her cute tush back to wherever she had come from. Except I’d allowed indecision to sweep in, and I let her hang around.
Maybe it was because she reminded me of myself. Twenty-five fucking years ago, grubbing around the household garbage until Antonio caught me and yanked me off the bin by my ear. We were the same age. But I don’t know what pissed me off more. Poverty, starvation, or the fact that he could kick my ass even though I was bigger. He hammered me into a puddle, took the bin, and smashed it on my head, and just when I thought it was going to be my final moment, he yanked me inside, pushed me into a shower, and shoved a warm plate of food under my nose. Before the hour was up, he had introduced me to his father as his friend. All of this before he’d even asked my name. I thought I didn’t belong anywhere. Turned out, at ten years old, Antonio thought I did. As the right-hand man to the futureConsigliereof the Mafia. He made me his family, and I him.
But it didn’t stop the never-ending ache of loneliness of growing up as an orphan. Of carrying a surname that had no meaning and no link to a father. A moment of thought or a whiff of a smell if the wind blew in the wrong direction and I was rightthere. Sleeping in ditches and prowling in garbage bins. Just like when I saw her. The stink of old food and the ache of an empty belly drilled through my big body like a cement drill on my chest.
My master plan had been to give her food for a week and kick her out. I needed her away from the house. Antonio and his family’s protection was my only priority. A little Rromani girl hiding in corners, no matter how sexy, wasn’t going to cut it.
Except I changed my mind after half a day. I learned a few things about her. She knew the grounds too well. This wasn’t her first visit here. She must have been caught the last time because she was clearly terrified of stepping inside. So, after two days, I took the food out of the equation and lured her in.
I’d let her eat and make her comfortable and see what she would do. I had only planned to sit in the corner and watch. But I hadn’t calculated an idiot into my plans. Acid burned in my gut at the memory of Peppe’s words and deeds.Spineless fool.Peppe had always been an irritation. He was a coward. I knew that even before today. But he’d never downright angered me before. Which, in itself, notched up my agitation with the man.
As if my rage latched onto him, the man himself strode over and plopped the food on the table with a thud. The noise was loud in the quiet room. My hand twitched. The imbecile had no care for his own life and was on a mission to get himself killed.
I killed men for theCosa Nostra. I did it without a second thought or a guilty conscience. But killing one of your own was a different thing entirely. It wasn’t something I took lightly. If it wasn’t necessary, I avoided it. The question remained if I could let him live for putting his grubby hands on her. He was only clearing up my questions with his actions.
I leaned back in my chair, trying to create a physical distance between him and my hand itching for my gun on my right side.
“Dov’è il vino, idiota?”I tried to curb my anger, but it shot out of my body in unprecedented waves.
The girl watched us with her enormous hazel eyes. Her skin was so pale that her eyes shone like marbles from her translucent face. Peppe hesitated for a second. A matter of life and death. He made the right decision. With a huff, he went down to the cellar, his boot-clad thuds echoing in the kitchen.
Fuck.I wasn’t in the mood to kill him now. Well, no. That was a lie. I was in the best damn mood to kill him. Would have done it instantly. I just didn’t want to do it in front of her. Even though she had probably seen far worse, for some reason, the dark bruise on her neck was pissing me off. That and she looked like she expected me to shove my dick in her face any moment.
“Come ti chiami?”I growled.
A flicker of recognition sparked in her eyes before she hid it and pressed her pretty pink lips into a thin line.
A shiver of annoyance coiled in my gut.Did she think I was as much an idiot as the usual men she associated with?“Cut the crap. I already know you understand us. Don’t think I’ve not seen you listening to the maids talk.” The ancient legs of the chair quivered as I rocked in an effort to cool off. “Now, let’s try again. Your name…” she opened her mouth, “and don’t fucking lie to me.” Her mouth snapped shut.
Her face turned red, and her teeth gritted behind her closed lips. Indecision swam in her eyes as she wrestled with her inner thoughts. Then she wrenched the word out, “Florina.”
She didn’t lie. Even though she wanted to. She didn’t. That brought me a spark of joy. If there was one thing I could spot a mile off, it was a lie. I could have said it was a sixth sense I developed in theCosa Nostra. But I already had it long before I met Antonio or his set of men. When you were poor, you were invisible. Yet it gave you the clearest vision of others and their fucking lies.
“Not so difficult, was it?” I mumbled, even though I didn’t expect an answer from those tight lips. “Now eat.” I nodded towards the food.
Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth squeezed into a frown. She didn’t trust me, but the plate in front was too tempting. I knew the feeling. Pride fighting over hunger. The thing was, hunger always won. Just when I thought she would be the exception, she surprised me and, as per her usual habit, ditched the silver cutlery and started stuffing her mouth.
A stifled groan erupted in my mouth. How can a woman gobbling down pasta with her bare hands be so fucking sexy?
My daydreams of her were interrupted by Peppe coming back up, holding a bottle of wine and a glass.
I glared at him.Would it be so bad to get rid of the fucker?His hands froze right above the table.
“Thump it down and there’ll be a hole where your mouth was.”
His eyes were wild, locked on the gun I was pointing at his mouth. To be fair, I hadn’t even realised I was doing it. The girl, Florina, looked up between the two of us and went right on eating. This one had a shitload of guts in her. Peppe swallowed audibly and placed the bottle and glass softly on the table like he was putting a baby to sleep.
“Open it,” I ordered, waving the gun in his face.
He pulled out the wine opener from his pocket. The cock popped, and the Bordeaux sloshed all over Antonio’s grandfather’s dining table as he tried to pour it, staining it red. I hissed and whacked the jerk’s head with the metal in my hands.
“Clean the mess up and get the fuck out of here before I slit your body into pieces.”
My head was too clouded.Would Peppe even be noticed if he was missing?Explaining it to Antonio would be a bitch, of course.
