Page 3 of His Mafia Sweetheart

I let my gaze rake over the carnage, the pools of filthy water, the crushed stems oozing sap like blood. "Looks real friendly."

I don't raise my voice, but the goon flinches like I've slapped him. "Just following orders, sir. The Bianchis told us to lean on every shop on the block, get them to pay up for protection. But if we'd known this was one of your places, we never would've - "

I silence him with a look, my eyes going flinty. "This is one of my places now. And I won't ask you nicely again. Get the fuck out of here before I show you what happens to little boys who don't know how to play in the big leagues."

There's a frozen moment where I think the lead thug might actually be dumb enough to challenge me. His fists clench at his sides, his piggy little eyes darting to his buddies for backup. But self-preservation wins out over pride, and he signifies his crew with a jerk of his head.

"Our apologies, Mr. Caruso," he grits out through a rictus smile. "It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't." The words drip with silky menace, a thousand unspoken threats woven between the lines.

They scuttle out with their tails between their legs, the door chimes jangling wildly in their wake. And then it's just me and the florist boy, the air practically sparking with the tension crackling between us.

Eli clears his throat, drawing my gaze back to his face. Up close, I'm struck by how damn pretty he is, all golden curls and creamy skin, pink lips parted in an uncertain little smile. He looks like he belongs on the cover of some bodice-ripper romance novel, windswept and dewy-eyed.

"I...thank you," he says, the words emerging breathless and shaky. "For stepping in like that. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come along when you did."

I feel my mouth tighten, annoyance warring with an unexpected tug of something softer, more sympathetic. I ruthlessly quash the feeling before it can take root. I'm not here to play white knight to some naïve little civilian. I'm here because my father ordered me to be, and because this shop is the perfect front for our less-than-legal revenue streams. Eli Bloom is nothing but a cog in the machine, a means to an end.

"I didn't do it for you," I rasp, holding his gaze with cold intensity. "This place belongs to me now. And I protect what's mine."

Something flares in those cornflower eyes, hot and defiant. "Yours? Excuse me, but I built this business from the ground up. It's mine, not some mafia trophy for you to throw your weight around."

I feel my eyebrows climbing my forehead, the corner of my mouth ticking up in grudging respect. Well, well. The kitten's got claws. Not that it'll do him any good in the long run. He's a lamb frolicking in the lion's den, too stupid to realize he's already been marked for slaughter.

"You've got a real fire in you, don't you, Sunshine?" I murmur, stalking closer with predatory intent. He holds his ground, tilting his chin up to maintain eye contact as I invade his space. The move puts our faces inches apart, close enough for me to see the gold flecks in his irises, to smell the crisp green scent clinging to his skin. "But you're out of your depth here. This isn't some quaint little Hallmark movie. It's the real world, and it's mean and brutal and it will chew you up and spit you out without a second thought. You're just lucky it was me who got to you first, and not the Bianchis or the Russians or any of the other circling sharks out there."

Eli swallows hard, his throat bobbing enticingly. This close, I can practically feel the warmth radiating off his skin, see the translucent blue of the veins pulsing beneath. It would be so easy to reach out and snap that slender neck, to silence the reckless words spilling from that pretty mouth.

But I don't. Because beneath the bravado, there's something...intriguing about Eli Bloom. Something that makes me want to dig my fingers in and peel back his layers, to see what makes him tick. It's a dangerous curiosity, the kind that can get a man killed in my business. But I've never been good at resisting temptation.

"Well, lucky me," Eli murmurs, a hint of sarcasm lacing the words. "So what happens now? You just move in and start calling the shots?"

"Basically." I flash him a wolfish smile, all teeth and dark promise. "Congratulations, Sunshine. You've just acquired a new roommate. And a 24/7 bodyguard, courtesy of the Caruso family."

His eyes go wide and incredulous, pink lips parting on a disbelieving huff of laughter. "You're joking, right? This is my home, my business. You can't just - "

"I can, and I am," I cut him off, my tone brooking no argument. "This place is a front now, and you're my cover. Which means your ass belongs to me until I decide otherwise. Get used to it, because I'm not going anywhere."

I can practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes, the instinct to argue warring with the dawning realization that he's well and truly trapped. After a long, charged moment, he exhales gustily and slumps back against the counter, the fight draining out of him.

"Fine," he grits out, sounding like the word physically pains him. "But let's get one thing straight, Mr. Caruso. I'm not some puppet for you to jerk around on a string. This is still my shop, my home. You're a guest here, not the king of the castle. Capiche?"

I can't help it - a bark of genuine laughter escapes me, rusty and unfamiliar. It's been a long time since anyone had the balls to talk to me like that, to stand up to me without flinching. There's a strange, foreign warmth kindling in my chest, a flicker of respect and something more dangerous, more unwelcome.

Attraction. Desire. The kind of wanting I ruthlessly buried years ago, when I learned the hard way that love is the deadliest weapon of all.

I clamp down on the feeling with brutal efficiency, my face smoothing back into its customary mask of icy control. "Whatever you say, Sunshine. Just remember - guest or not, I'm the one with the power here. It's in your best interest to stay on my good side."

Something knowing sparks in his gaze, a wry twist curving the corner of his mouth. "Somehow, I get the feeling you don't have a good side, Mr. Caruso."

My lips quirk into a blade of a smile, humorless and cold. "You're not wrong," I murmur.

The words hang between us, dark and loaded, as I turn on my heel and prowl out of the shop. I've got calls to make, strings to pull, contingency plans to set in motion. Because ready or not, Eli Bloom just became the most important piece on my chessboard. And I'll be damned if I let anything threaten my hold on him - not the law, not my enemies, and sure as hell not my own treacherous desires.

It's hours later, deep in the velvet dark of night, when I hear it - a muffled sniffle, a hitched little breath that carries through the thin walls of the apartment.

I'm stretched out on the bed, hands laced behind my head as I stare up at the water-stained ceiling. Sleep is a elusive mistress tonight, chased away by the adrenaline still buzzing through my veins and the relentless churn of my thoughts.

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