Model for the Mob (Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance)

“Luca will do nothing,” Franco roars, sounding unhinged, like a man who could snap at any second. “I’ll put a bullet in that fool’s head if he tries anything—”

“Shut up, you monster,” I scream, the words coming from deep inside of me. “You’re not even close to half the man Luca is, so keep his name out of your mouth.”

“Is that her, the prize, little Lucy Scott? Ah, dear Lucy, it’s so nice to meet with you again.”

“Go to hell,” I snap.

He chuckles. “I’m going to make you pay for that. I’ve done my research into you, Miss Scott, and I still have no fucking clue why that bastard Luca wants you. You seem like a sad little girl to me. But I guess you’ve got some mafia connections somewhere. Ah well. I’ll soon carve your bravery out of you.”

I let out a quiet whimper, my insides twisting in agony.

The phrase is vicious and cruel and sickening.

Carve your bravery out of you.

It plays in my mind on repeat, throwing out accompanying images which make my skin crawl.

“Luca will save us,” Maria whispers fiercely. “He’s never failed me before. Never.”

I can tell she’s trying to sound brave and confident for me, but there’s an unmistakable quiver of uncertainty buried within her voice. She tries to hide it, but she can’t.

“Are you going to come out like nice little whores, or are you going to make me get the blowtorch?”

Heavy machinery, Paulie said… does a blowtorch count as heavy machinery?

“If you’re wondering if that’ll work,” Franco growls, “it will. It’ll take us maybe an hour to cut our way in there. If that. And every minute it takes I’m going to take out on your bodies. In any way I damn well want. Then I’ll send Luca the photos of my work… if he’s still alive by then.”

I stand up, my heart thudding with a deafening beat. Toto yelps and leaps into Maria’s lap.

I walk right over to the door and pound my arms against it, rage bubbling out of me.

“Luca is going to kill you. Don’t you understand that? My man would never let anything happen to us.”

“Your man?” Franco laughs viciously. “Luca has never so much as looked at a woman. You’re living in a dreamland, you silly slut.”

“You’re living in a dreamland if you think he’d ever let you get away with this,” I scream.

“Enough. Men, open this fucking door.”

The metal sound returns, and I imagine a giant blowtorch being dragged over to the door, enough to turn the metal into melting butter.

I step away from the door on shaking legs, barely able to bring my breathing back to something like normal.

“What do we do?” I whisper, dropping onto the bed.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Maria says, her voice wavering. “Just wait… and pray that Luca gets here in time.”

A loud hissing sound comes from the door, the flaring power of a blowtorch.

“See you soon, ladies.” Franco laughs maniacally. “See you very soon.”

I slide my hands over my belly, praying that Luca is alive, and hating myself for not consummating our love when we had the chance.

We might never get another opportunity.

Please, Luca. Please be alive.

Maria and I huddle closer together when the inside of the door starts to glow orange. Hisses of heat flicker from the place they’re cutting, spitting into the air. I’m sure I can even feel some of the heat from here, but perhaps that’s just my anxiety piling onto the terror.

“Be as cooperative as you can,” Maria whispers, no longer trying to mask the dread lacing her voice. “Whatever they ask… just do it.”

“Maria, they might ask some pretty sick fucking stuff.”

I’ve never cursed this much before, but my fear is making it easy to use the words I was punished for in the orphanage.

“I know,” she says. “But it’s the only way to keep men like this calm.”

“We have to get weapons.”

I stand up and pace to the kitchen area, grabbing the heaviest can I see. It’s a big chunky family-size soup can, almost so big I can hardly get my hands all the way around it. I turn to Maria and Toto, holding it up.

“We can use these. We’ll hit them and then…”

Maria shakes her head. “They have guns. They have the numbers. We’re done, Lucy. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll try to get the worse of it. I’ll try to protect you. Getting to know you – even if it’s been such a short time – it’s been one of the greatest pleasures of my life.”

I return to her, dropping the can. It feels so puny and useless in my hand anyway.

I slink onto the bed and huddle close to her, sharing her heat, hopefully sharing some of her bravery.

Then the blowtorch stops.

The hisses stop flying into the air.

“What’s happening?” I whisper.