Mafia War by L. Steele

4

Michael

What the hell is wrong with me? I had wanted to haul her into my arms, comfort her about our loss, hold her close and tell her that it was okay, that she was still alive and that’s what really mattered. But something inside of me had hardened, and I hadn’t been able to lower the barriers enough to tell her.

It’s as if Xander’s death crushed every last emotion that had sprung to life since I met her. He is gone, my child will never be born, and the only thing that matters to me now is to make sure that she is safe. It’s why I want to send her away, far from here, away from my influence, where my presence can’t taint her, where the company I keep can’t endanger her. Where my way of life will no longer cause her harm. It is the only way to ensure that she will never have to go through this kind of loss again.

She deserves better than me. She deserves someone who is on the right side of the law, who can give her security and safety, and keep her shielded from the darkness in which I spend so much of my time. She deserves more, so much more. Everything that I can’t give her. It’s why I have to let her go.

And yet, when she’d asked me about the Christmas festivities, I hadn’t been able to refuse her. She’d been right—Xander would not have wanted us to grieve his absence. He’d have wanted us to remember him with happiness, wanted us to have a good time as we indulge ourselves in his memory. It’s why I had given in to her request, and the Christmas party will take place as planned…

First though, I have to get through the funeral.

It's been three days since I left her at the hospital and returned home. I'd gotten on the phone and made arrangements for Xander's funeral. My brothers had offered to help but I had refused. This is something I have to do by myself.

Despite all of my influence within the police department, I hadn't been able to prevent them from conducting an autopsy on the body, which had delayed the funeral by a few days. But it had also given me the time to arrange for a funeral of the kind that befits Xander.

I straighten my cuffs, stare at my reflection in the mirror.

The eyes that look back at me, the features that fill the mirror are so like Xander’s. It should be me in the casket… It should have been me in that passenger seat and not him.

The only way to get through this tightness that claws at my chest is to find the bastards who did this and kill them… That is one thing on which I will not compromise. That is the only thing that keeps me focused… Avenge him, that’s the only thing that can restore the balance...somewhat. I knot my tie around my neck, tug on it until it hangs straight down. Then I turn and head for the doorway to my bedroom.

Her door opens at the far end of the corridor and she steps out. Clothed completely in black, from the veil that flows over her eyes and covers the bandage on her forehead, to the gown that draws across her narrow shoulders and down to her feet, which are clad in black stilettoes, she resembles a goddess who has come to stake her claim on the souls of us mortals.

She approaches, her movements slow enough to indicate that she is not completely healed from the incident.

The day on which I had lost, not one, but two of my children. If something had happened to her as well… I never would have been able to live with myself.

As she walks toward me now, all the pent-up emotions threaten to boil over. My fingers tingle and I want to wrap them around the nape of her neck, haul her close as I lick her lips, slide my fingers up her skirt and shove aside her panties to cram them inside her channel, which I have no doubt will be soaking wet.

She comes to a stop in front of me, and her scent… That luscious scent that is so Beauty fills my senses. My cock swells and the blood rushes to my groin. I widen my stance, glare at her as she tips up her chin. Her lips tremble as she parts them, and damn, if I don’t want to lean down and thrust my tongue inside her mouth and feast on her, and draw from the comfort that she can offer me.

But I won’t. I owe it to Xander to hold back. Xander, who is dead and who will never know what it is like to be married, to father a child, to see his paintings displayed in the best museums in the world, to grow old with his woman by his side, to see us take over the Cosa Nostra, to feel the wind in his hair as he drives with the top of his car down, to cuddle up with his wife, to hold his newborn… Fuck. I close my eyes, fold my fingers at my side. Oh, Xander, how am I going to get through the next few hours? How am I going to bury you…my heart?

Soft fingers curl around mine, and I glance down to find Beauty has clasped her fingers around mine. She flattens my hand between her much smaller ones. They almost seem like a child’s in comparison to the width of mine. Her pale skin is like ivory against my tan. I stare at the contrast. So fragile, yet so strong. So breakable, yet so… Tenacious. She is a study in contrasts. The yin to my yang. The other part of me…and yet…

I can’t keep her with me. This one time, I need to be selfless. I need to let her go so she can survive. So I know that she is safe… Wherever… Whoever… She is with.

The breath hisses out of me and I hear her intake of breath. I glance down to find I’ve wrapped my fingers around hers and have squeezed. I loosen my hold, but she doesn’t let go.

"You didn’t hurt me," she insists.

"You shouldn’t come to the funeral," I snap.

"We’ve been through this, already." She firms her lips, "Now is not the time to pull back. Now is when I appear by your side. Now is when we show the world that they didn’t strike us down. That I am still alive."

"And mark a target on your head again?" I growl.

"I’ll be safe as long as I am with you."

"You’ll only be safe when you are away from me."

"I beg to differ."

"Why are you so stubborn?" I growl.

"Why are you so...so...pigheaded?" she snaps back.

I scowl at her and she flushes, but doesn't look away. Her eyes blaze with that inner fire that has attracted me to her from the beginning. That I need to resist if I have any hope of letting her go. I take a step back. "Just this once, I am allowing you to have your way," I set my jaw, "but make no mistake, once Christmas has passed, you will return home to London."

I release her, begin to walk away.

"Twice," she calls out behind me. "That’s twice you’ve let me have my own way."

I stiffen. Minchia! She’s right. First, I allowed her to continue with the Christmas festivities, and now, I’ve acquiesced and allowed her to come to the funeral. Goddamn it, she’s getting to me and I am not even aware of it. The faster I get her out of my sight, the faster I can go back to being how I was.

Alone. Focused. This time, on revenge. It’s the path I have chosen for myself; the path I should have never allowed her to sway me from.

I turn away from her, then walk down the stairs and open the door for her. We step outside where Antonio, Sebastian, Christian, Adrian and Massimo wait for me. I slide into the driver’s seat of my Maserati. Sebastian holds the passenger door open and she slides in next to me. He slips into the back seat, along with Antonio.

Massimo follows behind in his car with Christian.

We complete the fifteen-minute drive to the chapel in silence. The last time I was here, I had faked my own funeral. This time… It’s real… More than real.

I ease the car into a parking space in front of the chapel, push open the door and step out. I walk around to open Beauty’s door. I hold out my hand and she places her palm in mine. I tuck it into the crook of my elbow, then walk forward. Sebastian follows me, and within minutes Christian, Adrian, Massimo and Antonio fall into line behind me. We walk into the chapel and every person turns to watch us. The place is packed, as is to be expected. I walk to the front row, guide her to our seats, when she stiffens. I glance over as Nonna rises to her feet. She closes the distance between us and holds out her hand.

"Nonna," I take her hand and kiss her fingertips. Her fingers tremble. I glance down into her face, take in her anguished eyes. Her features are composed though. I wouldn’t have expected anything else.

She grips my fingers as she gazes up at me. "Mika," she swallows, "I hope you are going to hunt them down and teach every last one of them a lesson."

I bend my head, and she kisses my forehead. She releases me and turns to Beauty. Something unspoken seems to pass between the two women. My Nonna nods. She steps back, takes her place next to my father, who turns his face away from me.

Typical. In times of crisis, you can count on my father to retreat into that stony place inside of him where none of us can reach him. Like me. Che cazzo. Where did that thought come from? I am nothing like him.

I will not let myself become like him. I am far more focused, have more empathy for my brothers, for my clan. Hell, if it weren’t for that, I’d have gunned down every single head of our rival clans, and all of the other families. I’d have shot first, then asked the questions.

Instead, I have my men searching, identifying who was behind it… Then, I’ll begin the killing. Which is only fair. An eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth. The death of their entire family for the death of my brother and my unborn child. Yeah, that’s only right.

There’s a commotion behind me. I turn to find Luca prowling up the aisle.