Repaying the Mafia’s Dept

Emelia

I’ve never been so nervous in my life.

At the same time, I’ve never felt so strong. The minute Massimo reached for my hand, there was a shift in the atmosphere. The tension almost evaporated, although the curiosity was still there.

I watched as his father gave him the family ring. He looked different to me. He was in charge before and had this power. But as he put on the ring, he looked more like a leader.

I still can’t get over how much he looks like his father, and his brothers all look like him too. They have the same tall, dark, and handsome features and eyes that are so striking you want to stare. Andreas shows the only difference. His eyes are bright blue, not stormy like the other three brothers’. Almost like God decided to change things up, or just make him different. He’s the eldest. I’m amazed he isn’t boss. My family isn’t traditional, and it would be different for me because I’m a woman. However, in most Italian families, I know the oldest son is who takes the lead. I guess it must be different here. It’s definitely not something I’ll question. Andreas looks more ruthless than Massimo.

We ate a wonderful meal I was actually able to enjoy, and I got stuck talking with a few of the wives, who wanted to introduce themselves to me. They took me away from the men and gathered in the sitting room to talk. They’re talking now about vacations. I can’t join in because right now, this is a vacation for me. They’ve been nice, although I can imagine it must have been difficult. They know who I am.

They know who I am, yet they’ve tried to make me feel welcome. Again, it makes me question who the monsters are.

When Aurora, the youngest wife, starts talking about babies, the others start fussing over her. I don’t know what the heck I’m supposed to say, so I keep quiet.

“Massimo needs you,” a voice says behind me. I turn to see Andreas.

“Oh, thank you,” I answer, feeling nervous to talk to him. The women quiet their talk in his presence. I’ve noticed the respect everyone has displayed around the brothers.

“This way,” he says, motioning his head for me to follow.

I do, and he leads me out into the hallway. Massimo isn’t there though.

“Where is Massimo?” I ask.

“Relax, you look like you needed saving when they started talking about babies, unless I was mistaken?” He raises a brow, and my nerves spike.

“No. And, oh… thank you. You’re right,” I agree.

“Oh good, I wouldn’t have liked to be wrong.”

I smile, but my nerves are still on edge. I don’t know what it is about him, but I feel more awkward in his presence. Maybe it’s because he’s older and would have probably remembered my father’s cruel hand more than Massimo.

Or maybe it’s because I know that I’d be with him if he were boss. What would have happened to me then? I truly doubt I would have faced the same fate as I do with Massimo. That’s saying something since I don’t exactly know where I stand with him, except that I’m to obey and behave.

He studies me. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, so I don’t encourage the conversation in case I say the wrong thing.

“I hope my brother is treating you well,” he states.

“Yes,” I reply. The only answer to that question is yes.

“Well, you two look good together,” he mutters. Those eyes of his pierce into me. “I hope he continues to treat you well.”

Someone clears their throat. It’s Massimo. I look at him and am surprised to see he has that same possessive air about him like the other day when I was talking to Manni on the beach. I didn’t think he would be that way with his brother.

“Just saving your girl from the talk of babies,” Andreas explains. He called me Massimo’s girl.

All day, I’ve been thinking about when Massimo said it this morning. Although I’ve been upset about him refusing to allow me to speech to Jacob, I did savor being called that.

“I hope that’s all you’re doing,” Massimo states. Andreas narrows his eyes.

Andreas walks over to him and lays a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Relax, kid,” he says and takes Massimo’s hand with the ring. “The ring looks good on you. Proud of you as always.”

I don’t have many friends. Sure, my father kept me on a leash, but I didn’t have many friends because a lot of the schools I went to housed snobs who were jealous of what I had. If it’s one thing I’m able to spot, it’s a fake compliment.

What Andreas said about the ring was off. I don’t really think he was okay with not being chosen to be boss, and I don’t really think he’s as proud of Massimo as he says. Did Massimo notice that too? To me it was obvious.

“Thank you, brother,” Massimo answers, giving him a one-shouldered hug.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Be safe.”

“Always. You too.” Andreas gives him another tap and saunters away.

Massimo returns his attention to me and moves closer. “Ready to go?”

“I am,” I reply. “Are you always going to be like that when men talk to me?”

“Yes.”Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

“But that’s your brother, and he was being nice,” I counter. I don’t know what the story is. I’m left in the dark, but I’ll give Andreas the benefit of the doubt. It must be tough being the oldest and not being chosen to lead the family.

“My brothers are like sharks, Emelia. In their eyes, until we say I Do, you’re still on the market.” He’s being serious.

“Oh… well, then I’m ready to go.”

Placing his hand to the small of my back, he guides me out. I feel like I should have said goodbye to the ladies, but it’s okay.

Giacomo didn’t speak to me. I didn’t expect him to. I think I wouldn’t have known what to say.

We get into the car and head back to the place I’m now calling home. When we pass the diner, my heart aches and I think of Jacob. I couldn’t lie to Massimo earlier. I wanted to lie because truthfully, Jacob has never told me how he felt about me. It would have been easy to lie and say I had no knowledge of him wanting to be more than friends. I couldn’t do it though. And I think Massimo would have seen straight through me.

When we’re about halfway to the house, the silence gets to me. I want to at least have some idea what his father thought of me. The guys were off talking for a long time. It feels awful when you know people are talking about you. While I don’t mean to be self-centered in thinking they spent the whole time talking about me, I’m sure I was discussed. It’s a given that I would be.

I turn to Massimo and take in the outline of his sharp features against the mingle of moonlight and the soft amber glow from the lights inside the car. Sometimes I find myself looking at him because his features are so striking. Other times, I look at him because he’s a mystery and a wonder. A man who can change like the wind in temperament, but also one with secrets. Many secrets.

“What?” he asks. The deep baritone of his voice pierces through the blanket of silence that’s nestled over the car.

“I was just thinking,” I begin. “Thinking about what your father thought of me.”

“He didn’t say anything,” Massimo says. I’m not too sure how I should take that. Is that good or bad? It can’t be good, surely. “Don’t read too much into it, Princesca. That’s how he is.”

I consider that for a moment and think back to when we first arrived at the house. Giacomo didn’t have the same malicious vibe I’d witnessed in my father’s office. I’d say tonight almost felt like Massimo and I could have just gone to a family dinner.

“It was nice of him to introduce me,” I state. It’s true. He didn’t have to, and I could tell it set the flow for the way everyone else should treat me.

“It was.”

It’s starts to rain. Massimo reaches for the ornate dashboard of his car to switch the radio on. He finds a jazz channel and settles for it.

I take note of little things like that because this man is the definition of a closed book. I was surprised days ago when he shared so much about his mother. Now I know he likes Jazz.

“You like Jazz,” I state and feel better when the corners of his lips turn up into a sensual smile.

“I do. It calms the soul. Just like my car.”

I chuckle. He turns fully to look at me. I notice whenever I smile or laugh, he always gives me a look of fascination.

“Your car calms your soul?” I ask, trying not to laugh.

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. I savor the sound because I made him do it.

“My car calms my soul.”

“How? I get that Jazz does. I like Jazz, but how in the world would your car do the same thing?”

“It just does, Princess. This one does.”

“Does it have anything to do with the fact that it’s a big ole Bugatti? A sure sign of wealth?”

He smirks. “I don’t fucking care about that. If you got it, flaunt it. I like nice things. I didn’t always have wealth, so I guess I indulge when I want to.”

I think about that, about him not always having wealth, and try to imagine what it must have been like for him. Not everyone has the privilege of living as lavishly as I have all my life. I think it would be hard to go from having everything to nothing, then having to rebuild.

“A Bugatti is a good make,” he states. “I look at it and remember how far I’ve come. It’s a trusty car.”

He’s about to say something else when the car stalls and jerks. There’s a screeching sound, and then the car slows down. Massimo steers it over to the roadside, where it cuts out.

“Fuck, what the hell is this now?” he snaps and tries to restart the car. It doesn’t work. The hazard lights switch on, but that’s all. I don’t know much about cars, but I can take an educated guess that this car won’t be moving anywhere tonight. The electronics seem to be gone, which means it needs to go in to a mechanic.

“What’s wrong with it?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I’m gonna check it out.” He gets out. The rain splatters in, sprinkling all over me until the door is closed.

I watch him fumble around, lifting the hood of the car and doing all sorts until he comes back around to me and rests his wet head on the edge of the door.

“The car’s busted. It’s gonna take AAA two hours to get to us.” The stormy blue of his eyes matches the midnight blue of the sky. “Fuck, I change cars regularly to avoid shit like this.”

“How long have you had this car?” I ask. When I drove, I had my car for three years, and I had no plans to change it.

“Two months.”

I press my lips together and try not to laugh, but I fail after two seconds.

“Why are you laughing, Emelia?”

“Because that’s ridiculous. Wasn’t it you who said how great this car was, how trusty and well made?”

He gives me a stern expression before he laughs too. “That’s not funny. It’s supposed to be.”

Deciding to get out and join him, I open the door and step out. The rain isn’t too bad now, although it’s drizzling. Something I like, feeling the rain on my skin. Especially when the weather is hot, like it is now.

He watches me keenly as I walk over to him.

“My Miata never did this, and I’ve had it for three years.”

“Doll,” he says, leaning against the car door. “Can you see me driving a Miata?”

“At least it wouldn’t break down like this car. Miatas are trusty cars.”

He looks at me and studies my face. “Come here,” he says, tilting his head to the side.

I move closer to him. He reaches for my waist, pulling me right up to him to close the space between us. His lips find mine and we kiss.

Every time this man kisses me, I find I forget everything. Every time we’re together in any kind of intimate way, all that exists in my world is him and what we are in those moments.

It’s dangerous for me to think like this. This whole day has been a big reminder to me, and a warning that I can’t allow myself to fall for him. It’s just hard when he kisses me like he wants to consume me.

Pulling away from my lips, he catches my face and looks me over.

“Smart mouth.”

“It’s true. Miatas are trusty cars.” I run my fingers over his chest. His eyes roam over my body.

“We’re about a mile from the house. Let me call a taxi. I want you, and the road’s too open for me to strip you naked right here and fuck you on the hood of this car.”

My cheeks burn in response to the image of him doing exactly that to me.

“What if we walked? It’s going to take some time to wait for the taxi. We could just walk together.”

His eyes narrow. “You want to walk with me?”

“Yes.”

“In those shoes?” He looks at my heels. He’s right. They’d be a nightmare to walk in for longer than ten minutes. Tonight, I was grateful that I didn’t have to move around in them too much.

“I’ll manage,” I say because it would be nice just to walk. “Then we could talk about what we like.”

He looks at me like the idea is odd, but then he nods. “I have a better idea,” he says. I gasp when he suddenly scoops me up to carry me.

I laugh, and he does too.

“You’re going to carry me home?”

“I am, Princess.”

I circle my arms around his neck, and he smiles down at me.

“I like Bugattis even though that one just made me look like a fool,” he says, kicking the door shut with his heel.

“I like Miatas. They’re trusted cars,” I repeat.

He starts walking down the road. “I ride a motorcycle.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh,” he answers and then starts talking about his Ninja X2.

He actually talks to me, and I’m so taken with his words and the way his face lights up as he speaks that I barely talk about me.