Gemma: A Mafia Forbidden Romance

Even when he hurt us, it was followed by gifts and sweets. I can’t be angry with her for accepting the only kind of love she’s ever seen.

“Chay,” I say softly. “You deserve more. Don’t let Ma and Da be your example, their relationship is shit. You deserve a sweet love, one that doesn’t cause any pain, ya hear me?”

She nods her head and a single tear escapes trailing it’s way down her cheek.

“What’s his name?” I ask.

“Troy Bishop,” she whispers.

I kiss her cheek. “Ma wants you down for dinner soon, I would cover those up.”

She nods and fetches the concealer she dropped while I head out of her room.

I’m gonna fucking kill Troy Bishop tonight.

The kid on his knees in front of me is a bloody, broken mess. He begged the entire time, not much of the tough guy he thought he was when he hit my sister.

Sean inflicts the next kick, one right to his ribs. From the crack that sounds off I think he broke one.

Good for him.

I didn’t tell Declan where I was going when I left my family's house. Instead, I called Sean to meet me and hunt down this little prick. Declan would have brought him to the basement and tortured him before killing him. Declan’s way of torture is a little bloody and messy for me.

I prefer to inflict agony in a different way. With my fists. With the heel of my boot. I like to leave them in a dark alley thinking they have a chance of escape while I pummel my fist into their jaw.

Knives have their time and place, and who knows, maybe Troy will still get one. For Troy, he’ll get to live another day.

We leave him in the alley after he passes out. His ribs are broken and his eyes are swollen shut. He’ll be fucked up for a while. Death would have just given him an easy out, this way the pain of his suffering will be elongated.

And maybe I’ll get to do this again in a few weeks.

My phone dings as Sean and I hop into my truck leaving our friend Troy behind.

I pull it out and open up the new text message. It’s from Gemma, a picture of her in what looks to be a club. She types out... Come find me.

My cock perks to life immediately. She’s in a tank top, just a hint of her cleavage is showing in the selfie. There are lights behind her, I can see the top of a bar with rows of glasses behind her.

Fuck.

I recognize the wood of the bar, the shelves behind it, even the lineup of the alcohol—a whole lot

of whiskey.

She’s in my fucking bar.

I’M TAKING A RISK.

One I probably shouldn’t, considering the angry words that my father said after the last time I did something like this.

But I can’t help myself, I want to see Liam again. I want to feel his touch, the warmth of his body pressed against mine. I want to taste him, hold him, and love him. I want everything he has to offer.

It’s a stupid risk.

But one I want to take.

The bartender is looking at me and I’m assuming he’s going to let Liam know I’m here. He already knows though, I'm waiting on him.

It doesn’t take long for Liam to arrive. The door opens with a bang, bouncing off the wall. He stands there in the doorway assessing the bar, eyes scanning along the patrons until they reach mine. He stalks toward me. “Upstairs.” He growls.