Strapped: A Second Chance Mafia Romance (8 page)

4
^th
October 2014

I
stir quietly
in my bed, feeling the grogginess that can only have come from crying myself to sleep last night... the only problem is I cannot for the life of me remember why. It’s as if my brain has switched off for the night, allowing me to sleep in a pit of blackness to prevent me from thinking about anything.

It isn’t until I sit up and go to rub my eyes that I notice the handcuff around my wrist, and it all comes screaming back to me.

Jesters.

Marco.

The murder.

The kidnapping.

The fact that I’m stuck here in his apartment rocks through my body and makes me feel so sick that I could actually throw up. The man that I thought Marco was deep down vanished yesterday, and what was left behind was a horrible, nasty man who said all kinds of dreadful things to me. I suppose it was to keep me here, to try and keep me safe but that doesn’t make it any less hurtful.

Especially since I always felt like those were the sorts of things that he probably
should
think about me.

“Marco,” I yell, not wanting to be stuck in this Godforsaken room another moment longer. “Marco!”

But he doesn’t instantly come running. As my racing heart calms down, I allow my eyes to flicker over his room, taking the opportunity to actually learn something more about him. I’ve seen so many different versions of this man, that it’s nice to actually be able to see a real honest part of him. In here, this is his sanctuary, the place where he is truly himself, and I’m interested to know who that is.

I’m trying to ignore what the handcuffs already on the bed mean – I don't think I want to know with that one.

At first, it all seems very clinical, as if it’s been designed by an interior designer who doesn’t really know him. There is generic artwork on the walls, and everything is very plain in colors. But as I look deeper, I start to see signs that actually there’s something more. There are clues to who Marco really is.

First there are the movies. They aren’t all action packed, violence-based movies like I would expect. A lot of them are foreign and very arty – like the sort I love, the sort I introduced him to. The fact that he still seems to remember that part of us, and that he’s taken it with him through life, no matter where his life has taken him, touches me really deeply. It stirs up emotions within me that I really wasn't expecting.

And then there are the photos of his beloved grandmother. The woman who raised him when his dad died and his mother abandoned him. She was his rock throughout his life and it causes a lump to form in my throat that he hasn’t mentioned her to me even once. I can’t help but worry about what might have happened to her.

Maybe she just doesn’t like what he does now, and she barely speaks to him anymore.

Somehow, that thought doesn’t fill me with confidence. In a way, that’s even worse. It’ll be like she’s turned her back on him too – not that I can blame her. Why would
anyone
want to be involved with someone like that, someone who murders people, whether they are family or not?

As my eyes find his collection of business-based books, which surprises me because I had no idea that he was even interested in anything else in his life anymore, the door swings open.

“Are you okay?” Marco asks me gruffly, looking like hell. “Did you... sleep okay?”

“That’s a bit of a formal question,” I snip back, wanting to keep that distance for just a little while longer. “For someone you’ve locked up.” I hold my hand up, shaking that shitty bit of metal that is still clasped tightly around my wrist.

“I’m sorry about that, I don't know what I was thinking.” He fiddles with a set of keys, before awkwardly unlocking me. I’m stunned that he’s actually set me free – I really wasn't expecting that – but as I rub the painful part of my wrist, staring up at him, I can see a whole load of genuine pain in those eyes.

What the fuck is going on here?

A bolt of bravery overcomes me, and I make a snap decision that seems to come from nowhere. It doesn’t matter what is going on between me and Marco, or even what’s going on in his head, he locked me up and now I need to get the fuck away from here.

I stand up and run, moving as fast as my legs can carry me, desperately trying to grab out at the door.

“Nope,” Marco insists, wrapping his arms around my waist, causing me to spin and flail like a pathetic idiot. If only he wasn't so strong, I might actually have a chance to get the hell away from him. “You still have to stay here. I can’t let you leave just yet.”

“Why the fuck not?” I practically scream. He’s driving me crazy, sending me fucking mental, and if I don't get as far away from him as humanly possible, I might just go insane. “Don't worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Just let me go. I need to go home, I have to go to work today, I can’t just stay here with you. I just can’t.” I shake my head to highlight my point, but he completely glosses over that.

“I’ve already called your office and told them that you’re too sick to come in. I will run over to your house today to pick up some clothes for you.” His eyes travel up and down my dress, and all of a sudden I feel almost naked. It’s as if he can see right through my clothing to what is underneath, and weirdly, I don't want to cover myself up. I want to sit bolder, straighter, I want him to keep on looking.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

What does it say about me that I’m still attracted to this murdering, kidnapping man? It doesn’t make any sense, and to be honest, the strength of my feelings that are still there is freaking me out.

“Now come on, let me make you something to eat. You must be starving by now.”

I want to be stubborn and tell him no, but the mere mention of food has my body betraying me and my stomach growling with starvation. I follow him meekly into the kitchen, hating how pathetic I’m being, but also knowing that I have no choice. Marco won’t let me leave no matter what, so I might as well get fed now that I’m here. Things might actually be easier if I just comply with what he wants for now.

As he hands me a plate filled with the most delicious looking pancakes and bacon that I’ve ever seen, my eyes bug out with excitement. I practically inhale the food that has been put in front of me without even pausing for breath. I might look like a pig in front of Marco, but I don't even care. This moment is about me, nothing more.

“Look,” he finally interjects, bringing my attention back to him. “I know that I’ve done a bit of a dick thing bringing you here, but it really is for your own good.” He voice is stiff and forced, but I truly feel like the words he’s speaking are genuine and honest. “The guys I work for, they don't take things easily, and one of the things that they really hate is witnesses. You saw... too much, and they won’t want you around. They’ll do anything to ensure that you can’t talk.”

My heart pounds noisily against my ribcage as I consider the implications of this. This really is serious, and if I pull my head out of my ass for a second, and stop focusing on the anger I have for Marco, then I can quite clearly see that. This is terrifying – there are some men out there now, mafia men, who want me dead. They want to kill me, and from what Marco has told me they’ll stop at nothing to do that.

“So... what do we do?” I whisper at him, praying desperately that he will have some answer for me. “How do we get out of this?”

“I’m going to sort it,” he promises me and from the look he gives me I truly believe that he will. I need him to, I certainly have no idea how the hell to get out of this mess. “I’m going to head out now and get it fixed.”

“Right,” I nod slowly, acting as if I totally get where this is going, even though I honestly have no idea. Will he talk to someone? Kill some more people? What if he ends up dead himself? I wish that I could stop him, but I know that’s impossible. I need him to do this, however selfish it is.

He pulls off his shirt and goes to grab something clean to wear. My eyes fixate on his body, drinking in every inch of that gorgeous, amazing skin. I shouldn’t be attracted to him, I really,
really
shouldn’t but at the same time I can already feel butterflies racing right through me. He’s too stunning for words, and it makes it very difficult to even be around him. Especially like this.

“Can you just do one thing for me?” He asks, and I really have to drag my gaze back up to his face. “Please?”

“Hmmm, what’s that?” I ask.

“Can you promise me that you’ll stay inside? That you won’t do anything crazy while I’m gone and leave? I’m so scared that they’ll get you if you’re outside, and I don't want that to happen yet – not when I haven’t had the chance to sort it out yet.” He steps closer and holds his hands lightly in mine. “I just... I really don't want you to die.”

“Yes,” I whisper, agreeing with him right away. “I’ll stay here. I won’t go anywhere.”

“Promise?” He asks me, showing me some true affection deep in his eyes all over again.

“Promise.” I nod.

With one last lingering look, he moves towards the door and leaves me alone.

“Oh my God,” I pant to myself, sliding downwards. I need to get my head sorted, I need to work out what the hell I’m doing before I do anything stupid. Am I allowing myself to get swept along by the fantasy of Marco, the version of him that I think he can be, or am I really falling deeply for the man he is now?

I can’t really love him, can I? Not knowing who he is. He isn’t the man I should be with, not at all, and I know that. This isn’t a young, naive relationship anymore. I can’t blame my age and immaturity anymore. I’m an adult, one that’s fully in the know, so whatever choice I make right now needs to be for the right reasons.

I glance my eyes towards the door, knowing that it isn’t locked. If I wanted to, I could get up and run right now. There wouldn’t be a damn thing that Marco could do about it – I could be long gone before he even knows about it. Sure, his words of warning are still racing through my mind, but I’m smart. I could get away somehow, I’m sure of it...

Do I stay and give Marco a chance, or do I go and give myself a shot at a real life?

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

Time passes noisily as my brain flicks from decision to decision. Both options have pros and cons and I really don't know where to go. Soon, I find myself rising to my feet, as if my body is taking control of me and it’s making the choice for me...

4
^th
October 2014

L
eaving
Liv behind when she looked so small and vulnerable was the hardest thing that I’d ever had to do, but I knew that I had no choice. I really did need to address this now, to get it sorted out before it became a major issue with all kinds of lives hanging in the balance. Despite their protests against my actions, I wanted to protect Diego and Luke as much as myself and Olivia – I didn’t want anyone to die for me. That wasn't what I was about.

Sure, I might seem like a badass with no cares in the world – blowing people’s brains out as if they mean nothing to me – but when I do care about someone, when I
really
care, I will do anything I can to protect them.

Although really, there have only been two people in my life that I’ve had that deep a feeling for – Liv and grandma, and as much as I’ve always wanted to protect them, I’ve failed. I sent Olivia away heartbroken and alone to live somewhere across the country, and I allowed my relationship with grandma to disintegrate until she died.

I’ve failed on every count so far, I can’t do it again. This time I need to succeed, I have to get this figured out.

I don't want to speak to Umberto Carbone though, despite the fact that he’s the big boss of everything. He really is a hard ass, and the older he gets, the worse he becomes. It’s almost as if he’s seen so much now that it’s hardened him up too much for him to be able to feel any empathy at all.

No, I need to go to Carmine, and hope that this is as far as things have gone. If the information is only as high as him, then he will want to deal with it quickly to get it out the way. I just hope that his answer reflects mine. I pray that he can see my point of view.

I knock powerfully on the front door to his mansion, knowing that I need to go in confident and strong. If I show any kind of weakness here, he’ll overrule me instantly, and this is too important for that. I learned that lesson very early on in my days in the mob, and it’s stuck with me ever since. I had to toughen up my outer shell pretty quickly, and that is what’s kept me alive and going until this day.

“Come in,” he calls gruffly, not even bothering to check who it is. Or maybe he has, he does have a high tech security system, so maybe he’s already seen my face on his camera screen.

I push the door open quickly and strut inside as if I have no worries in the world. My mind might be moving fast the nerves might be coldly creeping through my veins, but my face is stoic, my emotions are locked far away from the outside world.

“Well, well, well,” he sneers angrily in my direction – which isn’t a good start. “We have been busy, haven’t we?”

“So you spoke to Diego then?” I reply, just as coldly.

“Spoke to him? That fucker rang me up in damn near hysterics last night.” I know that he’s exaggerating to prove his point – none of us get hysterical, that’s part of our job description – but I purse my lips and keep that information inside. If he wants to dance, to make a game out of this, then I’m willing to go along for the time being. “Says you want to keep some scrawny bitch alive, someone who witnessed you killing Dazza.”

“Dazza is dead,” I reply, trying to ignore the scratchiness to my tone. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“It certainly is, but you know as well as I do what Carbone thinks about witnesses.” He starts to circle me, glaring me up and down, but I keep my head held high and my chest puffed out. I won’t be intimidated, not today, not when Olivia is relying on me.

“Look, the girl won’t be a problem,” I tell him calmly. “I know her, she’s a friend of mine...”

“You fucking her?” He asks coarsely, which causes me to blanche a little at his words. Olivia isn’t the sort of girl you fuck, she’s the one you fall in love with, the one you marry.

“No, it isn’t like that,” I tell him honestly... well, sort of honestly anyway...

“Of course it is,” he laughs loudly. “Only problem is, what about when you dump her, or she catches you in bed with some other skank? We all know what you’re like, Fabbri, you can’t keep it in your pants for nobody. What do you think we’re going to do when this little ‘relationship’...” he actually uses air quotes, which just pushes my buttons even further. “...goes tits up?”

“It isn’t like that...” I try again, but still he’s having none of it.

“We’ll have to kill her, of course, and you too – can’t have you as a police lead, bringing the feds in all over us.”

“Umberto has the police by the balls anyway,” I interject, needing some kind of argument to grasp onto before he makes the solid decision. “It’ll be fine.”

“Not with a witness – what if she goes to the media, then what will happen? All of us will be fucked,” he gets his face in mind, which shows me just how red with anger he is. His dark brown eyes have practically gone black with rage. He might be speaking in a fairly calm voice, but that doesn’t reflect what’s going on inside of him. “We can’t all lose this because of you and some slut, Fabbri, you need to think
really
carefully about what you want to do here. A lot of people are at risk.”

My heart pounds frantically in my chest, and I have to swallow the fear that threatens to rise up inside of me, but there’s no decision to make here. I already know that I would sacrifice anyone for Olivia. I have to, I need to, she’s the Goddamn love of my life.

“I don't want her killed,” I tell him in an even firmer tone. “She won’t betray me, I won’t let her.”

Carmine steps away from me, and leans arrogantly back against the wall behind him. A smirk plays on his lips because he knows that he holds my future in his hands, and that really pisses me off. I joined the mafia to make my life my own. I wanted the freedom that the money and the lifestyle would bring, but now I can see that was all a farce – I’ve always been the property of these men, and it’s likely that I always will be.

“Okay,” he finally concedes, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“What... what do you mean?” I stammer, feeling more than a little confused. Why the sudden change of heart? Has he just been fucking with me all along?

“I’ll speak to Umberto and the other guys, see if I can keep them off your back, but this is on
you
, do you understand?” His expression is as serious as his tone, but I nod quickly and excitedly, seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. “She squeals and you’re a dead man.”

“Okay,” I rasp quietly, knowing how much truth there is to that. I’m sure that I can trust Olivia though, I’m pretty convinced that she understands how I only want to help her.

“I won’t make any promises, I know that a lot of people want her dead already,” he warns me.

“I know, thank you. Please... call me as soon as you know.”

“Oh, I will,” he smirks again. “Don’t you worry.”

And with that, I spin on my heels and stalk from his home.

All the walk back, I can’t help but wonder if that victory seemed too easy. It was almost as if Carmine knew exactly what he was going to say, and when he was going to say it to completely fuck up my mind. That change of heart from wanting her dead, to agreeing to speak to Umberto absolutely blows my mind... and the further away from him I get, the more suspicious I become.

What will I do if they do try to murder Olivia? I already know that I won’t allow that to happen, but where does it leave me? I’ll have to turn my back on the mafia and the only life that I’ve ever known and I’m really not sure if I’m prepared for that.

What would I even do with myself?

I can’t see a resume that includes no qualifications and a sole life of crime will be what any employer is looking for! Of course, I do have some savings that I’ve managed to build up from all of this, but it isn’t enough to live on forever. It might be enough to get me started somewhere else, but that’s about it...

It doesn’t help that I have no idea where Olivia’s head is at when it comes to me either. She’s kissed me, fooled around with me, shown me that she still wants me, but what I do causes her to shut down every damn time. She’s so put off by the lifestyle that I lead that even saving her life might not be enough to convince her that I’m the right man for her – even if I do vow to turn my life around.

There are so many unknowns, and that’s harder than anything else to deal with.

I step through my own front door, feeling less certain than I assumed I would on my return. My head is in my hands and I’m attempting to rub some of the stress from my eyes as I move into the front room, which means it takes me far longer than it should do to notice that it’s empty.

Shit!

“Olivia?” I call out tentatively, knowing that she could just be in the bedroom or the bathroom. “Liv?” It suddenly hits me that I never made it to her apartment to bring her more clothes, which I know is going to piss her off. She likes her own things, and that fact that I’ve forgotten that might drive an even deeper wedge between us. “You there?”

I pad quietly from room to room, as the panicked feeling inside my chest grows bigger and bigger. I think about her promise to remain where she was as I left her this morning, and my reasons for asking her to stay. Would she really risk dying to get away from me? Am I actually that unbearable? I thought that we had something, deep down, even if it has become complicated recently.

“Olivia, where are you?” I call out pointlessly as I have been in every room and seen that she isn’t there. My brain has already worked out that she’s gone, but my heart isn’t quite ready to accept that yet.

Then the front door clicks and I race back into the room to see who’s coming inside.

“Olivia?” I gasp, glancing up and down her frame. She’s wearing one of my oversized t-shirts as a dress, complete with one of my belts, and she has somehow managed to make it look even better than most women do in designer gowns. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been so worried about you!”

“Oh, I went out to buy some groceries,” she replies in a blasé tone. “You have no food in your cupboards whatsoever.”

“Did you not hear my warning this morning?” I ask, exasperatedly. “You could be killed. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I’m okay, aren’t I?” She laughs as if she doesn’t quite get it. “I wouldn’t worry. Plus, now we have stuff in for dinner.”

This woman,
I think to myself as a smile finds its way onto my lips.
She’s going to be the death of me.