Taken: A Dark Italian Mafia Romance (Men of Mayhem Book 3) Page 3

  My job.

  My responsibilities.

  My fucking life.

  Goddammit, the noose around my neck is so tight, I can barely squeeze out a breath.

  I inhale sharply and grit my teeth.

  “Tell me one thing, Tommy. Did you lie to me that day in the hospital? When you came in to see me after my knee injury and I was doped up on all that morphine…right before I drifted off, you said you loved me. Was it bullshit?” She grabs the sides of my jacket and pulls them close. “I want to know the truth, Tommy. I need to hear it,” she hisses through clenched teeth.

  Fuck me.

  If she heard me say it, she already knows the truth.

  Not that it matters.

  I stare into her menacing glare, and even though she’s only a second away from plotting my death, I can’t force myself to look anywhere else. I want to be captivated by those eyes and dragged back under her spell for just a few seconds longer.

  So I can remember the exact way I felt right before I broke her heart and my own.

  I shake my head. “This can’t happen. Gemma. Not now, not ever.”

  Because I can’t afford to be distracted from my job.

  And because I need to protect my family from its enemies.

  Unfortunately for both of us, she falls into that category.

  Gemma lets out a loud gasp, recoiling when my words pierce the air between us, the air that is so thick with lust and tension, I can bite through it. An icy hand clenches my heart and squeezes, but my face remans stoic.

  I can’t show her any hint of what I really feel, what I really want but can never have.

  She narrows her eyes and smacks me across the face. It stings like a bitch and her rings crack against my jaw, she hits me so hard.

  I deserve it…I deserve much worse, actually.

  I let her believe there was a flicker of light at the end of a very lonely tunnel, and then I pissed on it.

  “I’m sorry,” I say in a tight voice. “I shouldn’t have let you believe I feel something that I don’t.” My gut clenches as the lies tumble from my mouth.

  Gemma backs away, shaking her head and muttering some shit about how she wants me dead, skinned alive and torched. Maybe something else about gouging out my eyes.

  Yep, she’s definitely her papa’s girl.

  That fire is one of the things I love most about her.

  “You’re a disgusting piece of shit,” she seethes. “For months, you let me believe you loved me! That you wanted to be with me! But it was all a lie. You toyed with me, pushing me away anytime things got too hot for you to handle, using my age and my father as your pathetic excuses! And then this morning…you…you…argh! I can’t believe I fell for your games!” Her fists fly against my chest. “I fucking hate you!” She shoves me back hard, the unexpected force sending me flying into a rack of coats. “I want you to suffer, Tommy! I want you to feel the same pain that I do right now!”

  I crash into the metal, tripping over the hangers falling around me as the rack crashes to the ground. When I finally dig out of the pile and steady myself, I dare look at her one last time.

  Her eyes spit malice, her hands are fisted at her sides. Bright pink spots glow in her cheeks, her hair hanging over her shoulders. And her lips…

  They lift at the corners in an evil smile, and a chill slithers down my spine when she speaks.

  “Too bad I don’t have my gun.”

  Chapter Two

  Gemma

  I let out a little yelp and stuff a pillow over my face, cowering into the large leather recliner. “Argh, I can’t watch!”

  Tommy snickers, stretched out on the couch in the living room across from me. “Then why do you always pick the scary ones? Why don’t you ever choose one of those chick-flicks instead? So you can actually watch the movie?”

  I lower the pillow a slight bit, my eyes narrowing at the plasma screen hanging on the wall opposite us. Looks like the murderer is on the hunt for his next victim, so I can have a little breather until he strikes again. Then I turn to Tommy. “I like the action. And the suspense. And the shock factor. You don’t get any of that with those sappy chick-flicks. They bore the hell out of me. The girl pines for the guy, the guy pines for the girl, both have no idea, they’re thrown together in some totally predictable way, and suddenly, the stars align and they realize they both feel the same way. Then comes the happily ever after.” I stick a finger into my mouth and pretend-gag. “Blech!”

  “You don’t believe in happily ever afters?” He quirks an eyebrow. “What about your parents? They’re solid.”

  I shrug. “I didn’t say I don’t believe in them. I just don’t see mine happening like one of those movies. There’s no drama. Nothing pulse-pounding. No curveballs. It’s not realistic. I’m not biting my nails to find out if the guy and the girl get together. I already know they will. It’s boring.”

  Tommy shifts on the couch, his long, muscular torso rippling under his t-shirt. I resist the urge to lick my lips, wondering if he is buying the crap about me not believing in traditional happily ever afters. I mean, duh! Of course I do! I’m a seventeen-year-old girl!

  I say a silent thank you to my brother, Gio, who forgot he had plans with Tommy and took off with some bleached blonde whose boobs were almost bigger than her head. I don’t mean that to be critical. I’m actually a little jealous, to be honest. My legs are in great shape from soccer, but my boobs are less than impressive.

  Thank God for push-up bras.

  My parents had gone out, too, right after Tommy had a private chat with my father in his office. I expected him to leave after that, but instead, he asked if I wanted company. He held up a tray and told me he brought dessert.

  Oh, holy hell…

  My heart literally screeched to a stop in that second. And it wasn’t because of the dessert, although that was pretty fantastic. Luckily, my brain was able to register the question so I could squeak out a “Sure!”

  I’ve been pining for Tommy Marcone ever since he appeared in my kitchen with my brother Gio six months ago. I’ll never forget that day. I ran down to grab a soda from the fridge when the wind was all but knocked out of me. I’d just gotten out of the shower, my hair hanging in wet strands around my face, my lower body dwarfed by oversized sweatpants.

  And, oh yeah.

  I had no bra on underneath my thin white t-shirt.

  I was speechless and completely mortified.

  But when his dark eyes tangled with mine in those few seconds and his lips curled into that panty-melting grin, I knew I had to have him. I’d dated guys before Tommy barreled into my life, but none of them ever made me feel like he did. The butterflies, the tingles, and the fantasies that followed have been tormenting me ever since.

  After that day, I made sure I was always around the house whenever Tommy stopped by, which was pretty often. He’d hunker down with my father a lot, even when Gio wasn’t around. And when they finished, I would just happen to appear in my shortest workout shorts and sports bra, pretending I was just coming home from soccer practice or the gym.

  Yep, like I said, I’ve been pining for Tommy for a long time.

  But he always kept his distance. If I came too close, he’d back away. It was like there was an invisible barrier between us, and he knew he’d get zapped if he tried to smash through it.

  It’s been maddening.

  Frustrating.

  Heartbreaking.

  None of the guys in those stupid chick-flicks see the girls as their little sisters. Maybe if they did, I’d actually watch to get some pointers.

  You know, figure out how to flip the switch, so to speak.

  I slowly get out of the chair and walk over to the couch, plopping myself a few inches away from him to make it not seem completely obvious that I want him to get a closer look at me in my very skimpy pajamas. My chest deflates when I see his eyes glued to his phone.

  Seriously? Do I need to strip to get his attention?

  I know w
e’re a few years apart, age-wise, but I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m damn close to being a woman and exactly what Tommy needs. I just need him to get on the same page as me.

  I stretch my legs out in front of me, flexing my muscles. They tighten as I point my toes, and I sneak a glance over my shoulder to see if he notices. I work them out constantly, on and off the soccer field, so they’ve always been long, lean, and toned.

  But does he even blink?

  No!

  My legs fall to the floor, my shoulders sagging. I lean over the coffee table to grab a double chocolate chunk cookie from the tray he brought and take a big bite. Oh my God, that’s delicious! I clap a hand over my mouth, eyes wide as I turn to look at him.

  And he’s still glued to that damn phone!

  I let out a loud moan. “Tommy,” I mumble, my mouth full of deep, chocolatey deliciousness. “This cookie is amazing! Where did you buy them? I’m going there first thing in the morning!”

  He smiles. “I didn’t buy them. I made ’em myself.”

  My eyes pop open wide? “Seriously? Did you bake crack into them? Because there is no way I’m not finishing this whole tray. They’re addictive!”

  Only then does he look up, a twinkle in his eyes.

  “That moan.” He smirks. “Sounds like you’re gonna come.”

  “Maybe I am!” I giggle, covering my mouth with my hand again. “They’re that good! I had no idea you knew how to bake! Why haven’t you ever baked anything for me…er, us…before?” I swallow my bite and stuff another one into my mouth. Heaven. Pure bliss.

  My God, I love him even more now!

  He shrugs. “It’s not really the kind of thing I tell people. I cook for my family and that’s pretty much it. But I made too many batches of cookies today, so I figured I’d bring some over. If you didn’t like them, I’d just say my sister Gianna made them.”

  I snicker, spewing milk and cookie crumbs before I shove a napkin in front of my mouth. “I love them!”

  But it sounds more like, “Ahh-ubb-mum!”

  “Didn’t quite catch that, but judging by the crumbs flying out of your mouth, I’d say we have a winner.”

  I nod, willing my mouth to move faster and chew up the remaining pieces so I can speak like a human again. “You’ve seriously got a gift,” I mumble, heat flooding my cheeks.

  “It’s the only thing I’m really good at, so my plan is to open a restaurant. Maybe a bakery. I love to cook. It helps me de-stress.” He rubs the back of his neck. “And Christ only knows, I’ve got enough of that dealing with…stuff.”

  I furrow my brow, fighting the temptation to grab another cookie. “What kind of stuff?”

  He looks away, toying with the edging on a throw pillow. “Family stuff, work stuff. Just, you know, stuff.”

  I nod as if I understand, which I absolutely do not. I look at him and see the guy I’ve lusted after for the past months—strong jaw, knitted eyebrows, thick, longish dark hair that always flops over one eye, deep pink lips that I want to sink my teeth into—and I realize that while he knows plenty about me, there’s so much about himself that he keeps hidden behind those damn walls.

  So much I want to know.

  He’s always quick with a joke or a sarcastic comment, but he doesn’t ever go deeper than that. I overhear him with Gio a lot, and he’s just as shielded with my brother.

  Maybe he’s got trust issues.

  Or maybe he sees how much trouble he can get into if he runs his mouth.

  Case in point, Gio, who doesn’t know the meaning of the phrase ‘silence is golden.’

  Tommy is like an onion. A beautifully complicated and multi-layered onion that I want to peel and peel and peel…

  I clear my throat. “How, um, did you learn to cook and bake?”

  “My mom taught me before she died.” He rubs the back of his neck and the hairs on my bare arms prickle as the realization strikes. He just told me something personal about his past. Does he even realize he just opened up to me for the first time since we met?

  Gio never mentioned anything about Tommy’s family, other than he’s got four brothers and a sister. I definitely never heard a word about his mother. My heart clenches as I think about my own mother and how devastating it would be to lose her.

  “I’m sorry,” I say in a quiet voice. “How did she die?”

  “Cancer,” he mumbles, sweeping a hand through his hair. “It was a long time ago. I was only ten. But before she got really sick, she cooked. All the time. It was her way of coping, I guess. I started out helping her and then she had me doing more and more until she’d taught me everything she knew.” He rests his head in his hand. “I’ve been doing it ever since. Makes me feel close to her. We didn’t have a lot of time together, so it’s nice to have something we shared.”

  My mouth drops open, and he snickers. “What? Too much information?”

  “No,” I whisper, dropping the cookie and crawling over to him. My heart pounds with such force that I can’t hear the voices telling me to please stop, to think about what I’m about to do before I ruin everything.

  Maybe I can’t hear them.

  Or maybe I just don’t want to listen.

  I stalk away from the coat room, my pulse throbbing against my throat. I yank open the door to the ladies’ lounge and pace in front of the floor-length mirror, trying to calm my shuddering breaths. Angry tears sting my eyes, the knowledge that Tommy will never be mine shredding my already-frayed heart.

  I’ve waited for him…ached for him. I’ve turned myself inside out trying to figure out how to capture his attention.

  For a whole year!

  I became his friend, which wasn’t an easy feat because he’s always on lock-down. But I accepted the challenge. I peeled away his layers, one by one, patiently and carefully, all in the hopes that he’d finally see me not as his best friend’s little sister, but as a woman he could love.

  And this morning, it happened.

  Something between us shifted.

  I thought my dream had finally come true, that all of my fantasies were about to become reality.

  In the second when his lips crashed against mine, everything changed for me. It made me believe his feelings were true and that they matched my own.

  I no longer doubted what I heard him whisper to me that day at the hospital.

  I knew it had been real, that it wasn’t just my imagination.

  It killed me a little more each day that he never acted on those words, but I knew he’d eventually come around. After all, he did love me. It was only a matter of time before we’d have a chance to be together.

  Because that’s what happens in all of those chick-flicks.

  The girl pines, the guy pines, the stars align, and then, boom!

  Nothing else matters because they fell in love.

  It’s perfect and predictable.

  But it’s clear to me now that my life is no fucking sappy romance movie.

  There’s only the girl.

  Pining after the guy.

  With no happily ever after in her future.

  A sharp intake of breath jolts me.

  He’s played me long enough.

  All of those ‘accidental’ touches, the heated gazes, the knowing smiles.

  And then what happened this morning…

  It can’t have only been in my head! He wanted it, too!

  That or he was just trying to get in close for some other reason.

  I grit my teeth, watching my nostrils flare in the mirror.

  My eyes darken as I regard my reflection.

  Everything looks perfect on the outside, but on the inside?

  I’m broken.

  Shattered.

  Devastated that he could offer something and then yank it away.

  He clung to his bullshit excuses for as long as he could.

  Liar. He’s a fucking liar, and I hate him!

  Fury rises in my chest as those words loop through my mind.

  But I kno
w it’s only a matter of time before the tears replace it.

  I’m the real liar here because as much of a fine line exists between love and hate, I know where I stand.

  Firmly on the love side.

  And the only person I really hate right now is me.

  The door swings open and two of my friends rush into the lounge.

  “Gemma!” One of the girls, Cambria, exclaims, circling me. “That dress is so amazing! There isn’t a guy here who can keep his eyes off of you!”

  I force a smile.

  Actually, there is…

  And my other friend, Graciella, giggles. “Your boobs look enormous. You have to tell me where you got that bra because I know you’ve got some help in there!”

  I can’t help but chuckle. “Intimissmi in Rome has the best lingerie. I got it when we went dress shopping a few months ago.”

  “Well, you sure transformed yourself tonight. I don’t remember the last time I saw you without your soccer…” Graciella lets out a little gasp. “Shit, I’m sorry. I meant yoga, not…that other word.”

  I turn away from my friends and look into the mirror, smoothing my hair over my shoulders as if my heart isn’t breaking for the second time tonight.

  Soccer had been my life for as long as I could remember.

  I was great once.

  No, I take that back. I was amazing. So amazing, that I’d been scouted a couple of years ago by the National Women’s Soccer League. Playing professionally had always been my dream. I’d never been much of a student because I put everything into my sport. I practiced and worked out religiously, and because of the dedication to soccer, my schoolwork suffered. It didn’t bother me too much since I never planned to study at one of the universities here in Italy after graduating scuola secondaria di secondo grado.

  But one game months ago…and one moment…changed everything for me. I blew out my knee while making a play, and just like that, my dreams were crushed.

  Much like my heart was in the coat room only minutes earlier.

  Jesus Christ, is my life a fucking fairy tale or what?

  “It’s fine, Gracie.” I will my lips to curl upward until I can get the hell out of this room. “Life goes on, right? I never planned to go to university, but things change. We have to adapt.” I don’t bother to add the fact that I have no idea what the hell I’ll be doing at the university. I swallow hard and look back at my friends. They have their lives planned, too, the difference being their plans are actually becoming their reality. Gracie is going to Milan for fashion design and Cambria is going to study medicine in Rome.