Page 135 of Tempting My Mafia Monster

I stared at him. “We?”

“We,” he grinned. “You. Me. Together. Killing Sean. It’ll be lovely.”

I set my beer down on the table and stood up. “I’m goin’ with Giovanni.”

“Change of plan. He’s staying behind. I offered to go instead.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to be there. Sean had Aria’s mother killed, tried to kidnap my wife, tried to destroy me in the process, and took my sister.”

That’s when I saw it in his eyes. Beneath the jokes, the cocky exterior, and the designer clothes lay the lethal hatred I knew too well.

“McKenna is mine to kill,” I growled.

He raised his hands. “Just want to be your cheerleader. I promise I’ll have your back tomorrow, not try to stab it.”

It was his back he should be more concerned about.

“I know you’re used to doing shit alone,” he continued. “But tomorrow, we’re in this together. That’s the only way this works, and we take McKenna down. We need to trust each other.”

“Says the man who bashed my head into cement.”

“Actually,” he smirked. “The cement was at fault there. Not me.”

“You’re really shite at apologies.”

He laughed. “Told you.” He stepped through the door. “Six o’clock. Out front. Don’t be late.”

When the door slammed behind him, I rubbed my face with my hands. If I didn’t accidentally kill him before we landed in Belgium tomorrow, it would be a miracle.

I needed to clear my head. Grabbing my packet of cigarettes, I left the pool house and froze when I noticed there was no Buccini soldier standing guard outside. I peered around, spotting pairs of armed men patrolling the perimeter of the estate, but none paid me any notice. I guess the Buccinis were showing me that trust worked both ways.

Strolling around the outside of the mansion, I leaned against a tree trunk and lit a cigarette, peering up at Soraya’s bedroom. The lights were off. It seemed too early for her to be asleep. So where was she? Not knowing made tension coil tightly in my shoulders.

A soft, deeply sad melody drifted towards me from an open ground-floor window beneath her room. I stilled.

Somehow, I knew it was her. She was playing.

My feet were moving before I’d even decided, drawn towards the music as if it were a leash around my neck, different from the one I’d worn for years. I stopped by the wall of the French windows, pressing my back against the climbing vines and flowers that framed them. Peering through the window, I saw the music room lit with a warm glow from a floor lamp.

Soraya sat at the piano with her eyes closed. She wasn’t even reading the sheet music. Her fingers simply moved from memory… gliding across the ivory keys with an aching tenderness that made something sharp twist in my chest.

The room vanished. Instead, I was transported back to the bunker.

She sat at a keyboard, testing notes with a pencil in her mouth. I moved behind her, leaning in to kiss her neck. She smiled, trying her best to ignore my wandering hands.

“Put your headphones back on,” she said, giggling as I nuzzled her again, my hands cupping her tits. “It’s not finished yet.”

“Play for me.”

“Not until it’s finished.” She pressed a quick kiss on my lips. “You are so impatient.”

“What’s the song about?”

“You,” she replied, smiling sadly. “Us.”

I frowned. “It sounds depressing. And painful.”