Possessed by the Killer (Dark Possessive Mafia)

The clink of glasses. Probably pouring a drink.

“I push too hard,” Dean said, voice louder, near the door. “Get too aggressive. Maybe I set a bad example.”

“You killing those Healy boys didn’t get Lorenzo killed.”

My mouth fell open. Lorenzo, one of his Capos. I remembered him from that meeting where they voted him into office. I felt a strange relief that it hadn’t been Gian—I liked him a lot. But Lorenzo was nice too, or at least as nice as a mafia guy could be.

“I know that,” Dean said. “But maybe if I wasn’t so aggressive about going after the Healys and fighting this war, maybe Lorenzo wouldn’t have gone out himself.”

“Lorenzo made his choice,” Bea said. “You can’t let it eat at you.”

Dean grunted something, and I moved closer, trying to hear. The floor squeaked again and I sucked in a breath then cursed softly. The door opened and Bea stared out at me. Her face flashed anger, then softened.

“Come in if you’re going to listen at the door,” she said.

Dean stared at me with red-rimmed eyes. He looked exhausted, his normally pristine suit crumpled and messy, like he’d been out ever since the last time I saw him earlier in the day.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Fine,” he said, head cocked. “How much did you hear?”

“Lorenzo,” I said.

He nodded and looked away.

Bea touched my arm, smiled, and slipped out of the room. I wanted to tell her to come back, wanted to beg her not to leave me alone with him right now—but I couldn’t bear the say the words, not with Dean on the edge of breaking.

“Can I do anything?” I asked, feeling helpless.

“Have a drink with me,” he said, and sat heavily down in one of the chairs, leaning his head into his hand.

I hesitated, but went to the drink cart and poured a little whiskey in a glass. I didn’t really like it, but figured he’d like it if I drank whatever he was having.

I sat in the chair next to him and leaned over. I touched his arm, and he shifted toward me.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Lorenzo went on the offensive,” he said thickly, staring at his drink. “He’s a good Capo, but not the best fighter. I don’t know what the fuck he was thinking.”

“They killed him?” I asked.

“He tried to knock off one of their safe houses,” he said. “Tried to rob it and kill a couple of their thugs. It didn’t go as planned though, and he didn’t walk out.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well.” He sighed and knocked back his drink. “It’s the price of this business, but sometimes it feels too steep.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. They killed each other all the time—some part of me thought that he must be immune to death by now. And yet he seemed broken up like losing one of his Capos hit him deeply. I took his hand on impulse, to comfort him the way I’d comfort anyone in his position, but his eyes met mine and I saw the longing there, deep in his gaze.

I sipped my drink. It was hot on my tongue. “Do you ever think about walking?” I asked.

“No,” he said gently. “But it’s hard. Every death is my fault to some degree.”

“Bea said it’s not,” I said.

“Bea’s being kind,” he said. “When they die, it’s because I couldn’t protect them. I couldn’t be there, or I couldn’t send the right men. Or the Healys outsmarted me. Or some other reason. There are a thousand ways a Don can fuck up, and I need to be better than all of them.”

I squeezed his hand. “I think you are,” I said.

“I’m trying, at least.” Another short silence. “Leading the family is heavy. It’s a weight that pulls me down every day, but I wouldn’t give it up for anything. I love them too much to do it.”

I leaned closer, and he met me halfway. His hands moved through my hair and tugged me to his lips. We kissed, chaste and gentle at first, then deeper, the taste of whiskey on our tongues mingling until he pulled me up from my chair then lifted me and sat me down on the desk. I gasped in pleasure as I wrapped my legs around him—and I thought back to our wedding night, to his head up my dress—

“Dean,” I whispered, moaning as he bit my lip. I wore a thin cotton t-shirt and no bra plus a pair of tight sweats. I felt naked, exposed, and it drove my heart into stuttering whirls.

“Don’t talk,” he said, kissing my neck, then pulled my shirt up over my head.

I let him, feeling insane and lost and hungry.

He kissed my collarbone, then my breasts, teasing my nipples with his tongue. He palmed them and kissed me again and god, it felt good to let him touch me. He moved back and tugged my pants off, then tossed them onto the floor, and his eyes moved up my body like he couldn’t get enough of staring at my skin. My nipples were hard and pink and I let him spread my legs with a soft, startled gasp.