Underboss (With Me in Seattle Mafia 1)

“No more sex.”

I chuckle. “Darling, you couldn’t keep your hands off me if you tried.”

“Watch me.”

Chapter 3

~Nadia~

“What are you doing here?” Papa asks as I walk into his Denver office. He frowns and sets a pen on the notebook he was scribbling notes in. “You’re supposed to be in Seattle with Carmine.”

“I’m not going to Washington.” I pace to the window and stare down at Coors Field, downtown Denver, and the mountains beyond. I have to admit, it’s a beautiful city. Once you get past the high altitude, it’s one of my favorite places. But I’m not here to admire the scenery.

“Carmine is in Seattle,” Papa reminds me.

“I believe so.”

“So, I’ll ask again, what are you doing here?”

“I don’t need to be with Carmine,” I say and watch as a crane works on a skyscraper. “I can work just fine without him. Better, actually.”

“You’re supposed to be working together.”

“Now that the charade is over, there’s no need.”

“That’s not your decision to make.”

His stern voice has me turning to look at him.

“We don’t trust each other.” I cross to my father. “For good reason. The Martinellis think we had their family members killed.”

“We didn’t.”

“You and I know that, but convincing them is another matter entirely. And why would he work with me anyway?”

“Because he’s been ordered to do so.”

I roll my eyes and then sigh as I sit in the chair opposite my father.

“You’ve worked hard for your entire adult life to be taken seriously in this family,” Papa says thoughtfully. “You don’t question orders. Why now?”

“Alex wouldn’t want to work with him, either.”

“Did you fall in love with him?”

I scowl at the absurdity of the suggestion. “Absolutely not. He’s a liar—and not a particularly good one. And he’s a Martinelli.”

“He’s also young and handsome.”

And excellent in bed, but I’m sure my father doesn’t want to know that.

“I’m not young and stupid,” I remind him. “I just didn’t see the value in following him to Seattle when what we’re looking for most likely isn’t there.”

“It’s a place to start,” he replies and waves me off. “Get up there. Today, little one. And keep me apprised of the situation.”

“Yes, sir.”

I stand and turn to leave.

“Nadia?”

“Yes?” I spin back to him.

“I love you.”

I smile and blow him a kiss. “I love you, too, Papa.”

* * *

There’s a car in his circular driveway. I don’t think the older Cadillac belongs to Carmine.

I park behind it just as the front door opens, and Carmine steps out with another man. The unknown person nods and then gets into his vehicle and drives away.

I slam the door of my rented Lexus and send Carmine a sassy grin as I climb the steps of his house.

“I knew you were the big, fancy house type.”

“How did you find out where I live?” he asks by way of greeting.

“Oh, Carmine.” I pat his cheek and breeze right past him and inside, not bothering to wait for an invitation. “Don’t insult either of us by asking stupid questions. You knew plenty about me before you found me in Miami. And I know more about you than you’d probably be comfortable with.”

“I just have one question,” he says as he follows me into his living room. “Is your house really being remodeled?”

I cross to the mantel and run the pad of my finger over a little owl statue there. “I don’t have a house. If you’d done more research, you’d know that.”

“Maybe you live in a house owned by your father,” he suggests.

“I bounce from place to place,” I say without elaborating. I walk over to a painting and touch the name of the artist. “You have a lot of expensive knickknacks.”

“Are you going to simply walk through my house and touch everything?” I notice his teeth are clenched, his hands fisted. It fills my heart with glee.

Pissing him off is a pleasure.

“Maybe.” I smirk and wander into the kitchen. “I’m starved. I couldn’t stomach the crap they served on the plane. I know you have a private jet, but I went ahead and jumped on a commercial flight this morning. Even first class turned my stomach.”

I open his fridge and take inventory of the contents. I pull out a cheese and cracker tray and dig in.

“This salami is fantastic. Where did you find it?”

“You’d have to ask the caterer.” He leans his hip against the island and crosses his arms over his impressive chest.

Carmine Martinelli is the male version of beautiful. He looks like a fallen angel. With that thick, dark hair, those deep brown eyes, and full lips that could turn a girl inside out, he’s an impressive specimen.

No, I didn’t fall in love with him.

But I enjoyed him. Every chance I got.

“You look well,” I say and pop a cracker into my mouth. “But you have some bags under your eyes. Not sleeping well?”