Consumed by Desire: A Dark Mafia Romance

“I think I can handle that.” A pulse of excitement runs down my spine as he kisses my neck softly.

“Good. Very good girl.” He laughs gently, kisses my throat, and pulls my hair. “Now, undress.”

Chapter 28

Olivia

It’s a sick irony that Danil wants to meet midway down in the parking garage of the hospital where Fynn’s lying in a coma, but I don’t have much choice. He sets the time and place, and I’m expected to show up. Tell them you want to see your new brother-in-law, I’m sure they’ll love that. Your husband is all about family, isn’t he? That bastard is condescending even over text. Casso’s tech gurus did they best to trace the number Danil is using, but nothing definitive came back—apparently, he’s using some kind of virtual defense network. Which left us with no other choice but to play along.

I stand awkwardly with my arms around myself in the far corner right where Danil told me to go after getting a ride with Karah. I don’t like the flickering lights or the deep subterranean quiet that haunts the lower levels. It’s like a tomb down here.

The place smells like wet concrete and car exhaust. Black mildew grows on a nearby wall and long lines of moisture stains cover the ground. I’m trying to stay calm, but it’s hard when I keep picturing Danil’s hard expression the last time I saw him, the intensity in his eyes like he wants to gather me up and steal me away. His unhinged messages don’t help at all. The texts he sent were uncomfortable at best and psychotic at worst, and I worry that I’m making a terrible mistake by following through.

But last night, after messaging nonstop with Danil and setting the plan, I went with Karah to the hospital. She was coming here anyway, so it was easy to snag a ride. The room was empty and quiet, and we sat next to Fynn’s bed for an hour or so while Karah watched her brother with a deeply worried expression on her face, like she was trying to bring him out of his coma through sheer willpower alone. I didn’t speak and neither did she—we only watched her brother breathe, in and out, and listened to the chirp of nearby equipment, the soft murmurs of nurses speaking with each other, the gentle sway of the breeze outside. It was peaceful, and getting a glimpse at the way Karah gazed on her brother with utter and unceasing admiration made something click inside of me like a revelation.

Manuel’s dead. It’s an obvious fact but an important one. My brother is gone, but Karah’s brother isn’t. Fynn’s still alive, even if he’s in a coma, and no matter what I do, I can’t bring my brother home, but I can help the Bruno family. I can help Casso’s family and maybe work to heal the rift I helped create. Maybe this isn’t ideal—I never imagined in a million years that I’d want to do anything positive for these people—but good acts can come from bad situations. The positive has to outweigh the negative, and only people willing to sacrifice can make that happen.

But it’s more than that. I want to stitch together whatever’s ripped inside of Casso if I can. I want to mend him, and though I know I’ll never put his flesh back together the way it was before, I want to try to get him as whole as possible. There will be scars and pain and nothing’s going to be perfect, but I want to give Casso as much as I can—give him something I never had.

A second chance.

Which is why I’m here in this parking garage waiting for Danil and scared out of my mind. I don’t know what the Russian wants, but it won’t be good, and it might end with me bleeding out on the concrete ground, but I’m at least I’m trying. I’m here and I’m trying, and even though Casso begged me not to go through with this madness, the rest of his family agreed this was the best course of action. Even Elise seemed to think it was a smart idea, and that’s what clinched it for me. In the end, the Don had to do what was best for everyone, even if it nearly killed him to approve my plan.

But that’s something else Casso has to learn: no matter how strong he is, how much control he has, it’s never complete.

Sometimes, the people we love do things we don’t approve of and don’t agree with, but we love them anyway. That’s what love is. Love with conditions isn’t love at all, it’s a contract. And I’m done being in business with my husband. I want more.

Footsteps nearby. Soft at first, but getting louder. I strain, trying to see where they’re coming from, but the garage is empty and still, and the concrete echo scatters sound all around. The cars nearby gleam in the fluorescent overhead bulbs. We’re two stories underground and it feels like I’m buried in the dirt. I think of that car ride to Villa Bruno with Papa at the start of all this—another funeral, another burial.