Ruthless Empire: A Dark Mafia Collection

But her smile filled my mind, pressuring me to call her like a little red devil on my right shoulder. I was drawn to Willow now more than I was when we were together. I could chalk it up to seeing her again after so long, but in reality, I’d barely managed to force the part of me that breathed for her into a suitcase and get the zipper closed. When I looked into those crystal pools of hers again, it was like taking a bolt cutter to that zipper. Emotions flung out like snakes out of a prank can.

I opened my computer and navigated to Willow’s social media page. “If I was going to buy her something else, what would I buy her?”

“You’re going to buy her something else?” Gabriel finished cleaning up the mess I’d neglected and started taking pictures of the soaked papers with his camera phone, likely to salvage the information before the ink ran and it was illegible. “What’s the point?”

“I want to show her what she’d be missing by not giving me another chance.” I scrolled through her pictures, many of them with an actress that I recognized from a few big action flicks. Willow was the actress’s buyer. “She’s in the fashion industry now. What do people in the fashion industry want?”

Gabriel sat on the couch against the eastern wall, crossing one leg over the other. “Uh, clothes?”

“No, something they typically can’t afford right away at the beginning. You know, like when Molly first got here, and Luca bought her those outrageously expensive knives because it was something she’d always wanted as a chef and couldn’t afford? What do fashion buyers want?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, Sandro. Do I look like I’m dressin’ up chicks for red carpets over here?”

I couldn’t keep from laughing. If only he talked like that more, he might not be half-bad at his job. “I need to Google it.”

“Just get her jewelry. Chicks love jewelry.” Gabriel was staring at me like it was that simple, and I was an idiot for missing it.

“Willow’s deeper than that. She wants something m

eaningful. Like, I sent her roses, but I sent her white ones because I know they’re her favorites.”

A small knock on my door yanked my attention. One of the housekeepers, Marina, was standing in the doorway, sweating like she was about to give birth. “S-sir. I’m sorry to tell you, but a truck just arrived with about a million white roses in it. The driver said they were paid to pick them up and bring them back to the sender.”

I gritted my teeth together, something I tended to do when I was irritated. “Thanks, Mari. Give him a couple hundred to dump ‘em.”

She nodded and disappeared from sight so fast she left a plume of cartoon smoke behind her. The housekeepers hated bringing my dad bad news because he had an awful temper that he tended to take out on whoever was closest. Luca had inherited this trait, and though it wasn’t as strong before my dad died, once he took over, it rivaled the old man’s, if not surpassed it.

“Sorry, Sandro. I wish it could have worked out. I know you—”

“Does she think I’m some sort of weakling?” I asked, cutting Gabriel off.

“What?”

“She thinks she can send them back? Does she not know who she’s dealing with?” I returned to my computer. “I’ll show her.”

My afternoon then became a game of cat and mouse. I started by sending Willow several yards of some fabric the internet said was in style. She at least had the courtesy to sew the ends of the rolls together before sending them back to me. Then I sent an expensive camera, complete with over one hundred attachments designed to give any fashionista a reason to click! She returned the camera to me with a single picture on it, Ricky’s bare ass as he changed into a pair of swim trunks. Gabriel found that particularly funny until I told him if he didn’t get the fuck out of my office, I was going to punch him in the throat. On his way out, he told me to go with jewelry, which I did, sending her a fourteen karat diamond necklace. She returned it to me untouched; she hadn’t even taken the box out of the bag that it was gift wrapped in.

It started out as a genuine gesture to try and get her to see me and turned into a childish attempt to prove to her that she was missing something by not being with me. I was wrapping money around pebbles and chucking them at her window, but she was not opening the curtains. In fact, she’d turned the light off. By the early evening, I was so annoyed that I could have started spitting fire. I picked up my phone and called Ricky.

The line clicked on with Ricky on the other end, laughing already. “Hey, man. What’s coming next? A car?”

“Shut up. Did you have anything to do with that picture?”

“What picture?” His voice got quiet, then he called, “Did you take a picture of me? Willow!” His voice returned to normal volume. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“Whatever. Look, I need you to leave the house.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m coming over.”

Ricky’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I really don’t think she wants to see you.”

That knocked all of the rage out of me in one fell swoop. That’s right. I was actually trying to accomplish something meaningful. One could argue it was my penchant for losing sight of the goal that lost me Willow in the first place. I needed to not make that mistake again.

“I have to see her,” I responded with all the sincerity I could muster. “I…” My heart started to crack again. “I have to tell her I love her. That’s it. I’m going to tell her one last time what she means to me, and if she rejects me after that, I’ll let her go.”

Ricky let out a sigh. “All right. Give me ten minutes.”