Mobster

“Why don’t you try this one?” Alberto says, breaking the moment.

Her eyes move from mine, making those red waves fall around her face again. I don’t know if I’m thankful or if I want to punch Alberto. Either way, I keep on staring at her.

“Really?” she asks, smiling at him.

That’s my smile.

He cuts her a piece of a cannoli and hands it over to her. She takes it from him and brings it to those full lips. I watch her mouth wrap around her finger, and my cock jerks in my pants. Then she fucking moans. Her eyes fall closed, clearly loving the taste, and I want to cry out in frustration. For some reason, I don’t like it. All of those sounds are for me. Only me.

Her eyes fly open and come to mine. I must have growled out loud instead of just in my head. I’m sure my face is hard. I try to force a smile, but I can’t seem to do it. I probably look pissed, but what I’m feeling right now is nothing like I’ve ever felt in my whole life.

Her cheeks turn pink, lighting up her freckles. Her blush is beautiful and it makes me wonder how far down it goes. Does her pussy turn pink when she’s shy?

Alberto cuts in once again. “Would you like some?”

I’m going to murder him.

“I um…” Her eyes linger for a moment longer on me before looking back to him. “I’m sorry, I just remembered I have to be somewhere.” She turns and half runs from the bakery before I can stop her.

“Fuck.” I pull out my wallet to drop a five for the coffee, but Alberto shakes his head as I take off after her.

She can run, but soon enough she’ll be mine.

Chapter One

Emma

I stare up at a house that looks like a giant fortress. I thought the gates and security we came through were intimidating, but I was wrong. No one is getting in or out of this place without at least ten people knowing. Crap on a stick, what have I gotten myself into? Maybe I’ll just blow my interview to make sure I don’t get the job. I’ll say all the wrong things and have them push me out the door as fast as possible. I’ll go back through that giant iron gate I came through and pretend this never happened.

I didn’t really have much of a choice to come to begin with. When the agency calls with a request, you’re obligated to go and do the interview. It’s part of my contract with them, and I still have more than a year left on it. I thought I would stay on, but after this I’m not so sure anymore.

I can do what other live-in baby nurses do and go freelance. Then I wouldn’t be in a bind like I am now. I’m standing outside of Salvatore Castello’s fortress with my knees knocking together in fear. He’s a known mobster in this city. Actually, he’s the mobster in Los Angeles. People say no one does anything if he doesn’t like it, and they jump when he tells them to. It doesn’t help that two of his guards are flanking me. Both wear dark suits to match their dark hair and eyes. Everything about them is a blank slate of intimidation. Even the expressions on their faces are unreadable, but I’m terrified.

The problem is, when you freelance you don’t always know if you’ll have a job. With the agency, I went from one house to another, but I’d only done this twice already. I’d signed up to be a live-in caretaker after I graduated from nursing school. I was leaving my dorm and had nowhere to go, so signing with the agency made sense. The idea felt safe. I knew I’d have a roof over my head right away, and so far, it’s worked.

Suddenly the door that we’ve been standing at for over ten minutes flies open. A woman about my height stands there, her long rich brown hair looking a little disheveled. She’s clearly very pregnant and a little out of breath. When my eyes meet hers, they take me by surprise. They’re nothing like any color I’ve ever seen. They’re gray with light purple around the pupil. Her face lights up with a smile when she sees me. She really does look like she’s glowing. A small twinge of jealousy hits me at wanting that. I’ve always loved babies. I want a herd of my own, but I don’t think that is in my future. I can’t even put a roof over my head. Well, at least one that doesn’t land me in a bad part of town.

“Emma?” she asks.

“Yes, you must be Thea Castello,” I answer. My eyes go to her belly, and I can’t but help smile. I think it’s the first time I’ve smiled since the agency sent the Castellos’ file over to me this morning. There wasn’t much in it, which isn’t normal. I didn’t have the doctor’s records. Just their names and address and that this was their first child.