Plain Jane and the Mafia Beast

“You can do that?”

“There are a lot of things I could do. I’ll only do them if you agree to my terms.”

She didn’t see the point in arguing with him. He’d won no matter what. “Fine. Fine.” Dropping her arms down from her face, she turned her head to look at him. “You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

“No. I have no plans to.”

“Good, because I don’t want to die. Not yet.”

“You have a plan of when you want to die?”

“I’ve got an idea, but there’s so much I want to do before that day. I know it sounds crazy, and I can’t believe I’m talking to you about this.”

“It’s fine.”

She didn’t think it was fine, not at all. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Vincenzo, but you can call me Vince. You’re Arika.”

“You remembered my name.”

“I did.”

She didn’t know what to make of what was going on.

The rumors that filled the diner as she moved from table to table suddenly flashed through her head.

“You’re part of the mafia?” She didn’t seem to have any filter either. Slapping a hand to her mouth, she groaned as pain struck her again. Any sudden movement seemed to cause her pain. She hated that feeling. Nothing she did seemed to help.

Being helpless was something she wasn’t accustomed to, and right now, she needed someone a lot. There’s no way she’d be able to go into work like this.

She loved her job, even if it was long hours that hurt her feet.

“If you want to keep breathing, I suggest you keep those kinds of questions to yourself.”

Gritting her teeth, she nodded her head, seeing the threat in his gaze. She didn’t want to die.

“No questions. I get it.”

“That’s correct. It’s better this way.”

He wasn’t apologizing. Watching him, Arika saw he wasn’t used to making excuses for his life. This man was part of the mafia. No doubt about it and now her life could possibly be in danger.

From the frying pan into the fire.

“I won’t tell anyone. I don’t want to die.” She spoke slowly, softly, hoping he didn’t see her as any kind of threat.

“You shouldn’t be worrying about this. What you need to do is rest.” His gaze moved down her body.

She became more aware of her nakedness at his assessment of her.

Did he like what he saw?

Taking a deep breath, she looked at him, waiting.

“Are you in pain?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be back.”

She didn’t move from where he’d put her.

The last thing she wanted to do was to give him any reason to be angry with her. She didn’t do well with a person’s anger.

Staring up at the ceiling, she admired his plain white walls. Not a crack in sight. On her bedroom ceiling there were three noticeable cracks. She’d gotten a ruler and measured them, which she did every single week to see if they were getting bigger. They weren’t, but that didn’t exactly give her any comfort.

Why was she thinking about her cracked ceiling when she was lying in a mafia man’s bed?

This man was deadly.

Serious.

Scary.

He returned seconds later, holding a glass of water. “Here is the medication that the doctor gave. It should help you sleep and numb the pain for a little while.”

She stared down at the pills.

“What is it?”

“They’re painkillers, Arika. I have no reason to drug you. I don’t do drugs.”

He’d given her no reason to not trust him. Taking the pills and the water, she swallowed them down, thanking him.

“You’re not used to having someone take care of you, are you?”

She shook her head, not really sure what to say.

“Do you take care of a lot of women?”

“No, you seem to be special to me.”

She rolled her eyes, not believing a single word he said to her. They didn’t know each other. Neither of them meant anything special to one another. He worked for the fucking mafia. There’s no way she’d have anything to do with him. Her life was planned out. She didn’t want, nor did she need, any complications.

“You’re so easy to read,” he said.

Turning to look at him, she found him smiling at her as if watching her amused him.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“You don’t hide your feelings very well, do you, sweetheart?”

“I … this is all a little confusing for me. I don’t know you. You’re a killer for all I know.”

He’s mafia. Of course he’s a killer.

She tried not to think about all the ways he could kill her without anyone finding her body.

He took her hand, at which she jolted from the contact.

“You’re a real mystery. Does my touch repulse you?”

“I’m not used to stuff like this.”

“Men touching you?”

“Anyone touching me, to be honest.” She bit her lip. Why was she telling him all these things? He didn’t own her heart or her mind.

He was a guy.

She didn’t get along well with men.