Underboss (With Me in Seattle Mafia 1)

“I’m not alone. I’m being held hostage, remember? So, what now? What’s our next move?”

“We’re staying here for another week.”

She scowls, but I hold up my hand to stop her from saying anything more.

“You’re healing, but you’re still fragile. When we get out of here, I need to make sure that you’re well and capable of having my back. We’re likely going to get into a couple of sticky situations. As long as you’re feeling up to it, we’ll go to New York next week.”

“Have you called the Sergis?”

“I’ll call Billy when I have a solid date.” No mob family travels to another family’s territory without alerting them and asking for permission. It’s a code we all live by and respect.

So, the fact that someone was in Seattle to hurt Nadia only intensifies my anger.

No one should have been here.

“They hate me there.”

“Hate is a strong word,” I remind her.

“And accurate.”

“You’ll be with me.”

“What if they hate you, too?”

I smile thinly. “They don’t.”

Chapter 5

~Nadia~

“I’m bored out of my mind.” I pace the penthouse in front of the windows. “It’s been two damn weeks. I feel great. I can even cover what’s left of the bruises with makeup, and you’d never know they’re there.”

Carmine lounges on the couch, reading something on his iPad.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading stock reports.” He sips his coffee. “How are your investments doing?”

I cock my head to the side. “Are you some kind of financial advisor?”

His grin is wide and toothy—and cockier than any one man has a right to be.

“I have a master’s in finance,” he says. “I guess you could say that I’m a financial advisor.”

“To your family,” I finish for him. “You help them hide money.”

There’s that smile again. “I assure you, everything I offer is legal.”

“Bullshit.”

“So, I’ll ask again. How are your investments?”

He’s evading.

“I don’t have any.”

His brow knits. “None?”

“No.”

“Nadia, you’re pushing thirty. You should have a Roth IRA, at the very least. You should have stocks. I know you’re set to inherit more money than the net worth of several countries, but—”

“Carmine. I don’t want to talk about finances. I want to get the hell out of here.”

He sighs. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Anything.” I bounce into the bedroom to snatch up the new shoes I ordered a few days ago. Since blood now covered the running shoes I had on the day I was attacked, I needed new ones.

When I’m dressed and ready to go, Carmine sets his iPad aside, and we step into the elevator.

“We should head to New York tomorrow,” I say as we ride down to the ground floor.

“It’s Friday, Nadia. Let’s go Monday.”

“Because the mafia takes weekends off?” I roll my eyes. “You’re stalling.”

“I told you before; I want to make sure you’re healthy.”

“I feel great.” It’s not a complete lie. Aside from a little ache in my shoulder when I raise my arm above my head, and the vision in my left eye still being a little blurry, I feel pretty good. The doctor said I might not get my sight back all the way, though.

That pissed me right off.

But I’m not dead, and that’s something.

“I saw you wince this morning when you reached for a mug in the cabinet.”

“You’re watching me like a fucking mother hen.” I scowl as we step outside and then stop to take a deep breath. “I love summer.”

“Seattle is nice in the summer,” he says. “Less rain, more sun. Not too hot, thanks to the Sound.”

“It’s a beautiful day.” I tip my head up to the sky.

“You might want to pay attention, so you don’t faceplant on the concrete.”

I laugh and glance up at him. “You would probably catch me.”

“Maybe.”

These past two weeks have shown me that I can let my guard down around Carmine. Now that it’s just us—no pretenses, no blatant lies or games—I actually trust that he won’t hurt me.

Not intentionally, anyway.

He’s the only person in the world that I can trust right now, and I just hope that he doesn’t do something stupid to betray that faith.

“What’s that place?” I ask, pointing across the street. “It looks like a coffee shop. Cherry Street Coffee House. How did I not know that was here all the time we’ve lived here?”

“I don’t think I’ve been in there,” he says. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Yes. An iced Americano sounds awesome right now. Let’s do it.”

We watch for traffic and then hustle across the street. The café is so cute, and it smells amazing when we walk inside.

I order my iced coffee and throw caution to the wind, including an orange and cranberry scone. Carmine gets the same. Before long, we’re walking out of the shop again, loaded down with our treats.

“This is the best day I’ve had in two weeks.”

Carmine laughs. “If I’d known that all it took for you to have the best day ever is a coffee and a scone, I would have done this sooner.”