Page 44 of Tempting My Mafia Monster

“Do you play professionally?”

She shook her head with a slight smile. “Only for my family, mainly Mamma. It settles her when the dementia takes hold. The thought of strangers listening makes my stomach twist.”

“Why?”

A slight dip appeared between her eyebrows as she frowned, thinking hard. “I don’t know. It feels too personal, maybe. Like I’d be giving a piece of my soul to a world that might not understand it. I compose for myself, and I’m too much of a perfectionist. I’m never one hundred percent happy with any of my songs. I’d rather keep them hidden.”

I stared at the notes, avoiding her eyes. “I’m sure they’re perfect.”

She shrugged. “I did have a manic moment a few weeks ago and applied to showcase at the Auditorium Parco della Musica. Maybe one day I’ll get the chance.”

Maybe one day. She still had hope that she would get out of this place, that she would go back to her life.

I glanced around the bunker, wondering whether rearranging the furniture might let us fit a piano or a harp down here. I made a mental note to add it to the list of things she needed.

If It Were Possible

Isquealed, resting my hands lightly on his shoulders as he lowered himself towards the stone floor. His huge arms bent slowly under our combined weight, the movement smooth and controlled, as if gravity didn’t apply to him as it did to everyone else. I couldn’t even do ten push-ups before I’d be face-planting on the floor. I bit my lip with a smile, loving the feel of his solid muscles shifting beneath my palms.

Push-ups weren’t the only thing. He also made me wrap myself around him like a koala while he did pull-ups on the bar. I’d lock my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, pressing my front to his as he lifted us both off the floor again and again with relentless power. What was better than watching him get all sweaty during his workouts? Being able to lick the sweat from his neck while feeling the hard lines of his body rippling against me. That usually ended with me distracting him, and us doing a much more pleasurable form of exercise together. I certainly wasn’t complaining.

Since we’d started having sex weeks ago, everything between us had changed. We couldn’t stay away from each other. Not that we’d tried. We’d settled into a new routine. Every night, I’d fall asleep with him wrapped around me, his warmth driving away the chill from the stone walls. Every morning, I’d wake to the feel of his lips brushing my skin, checking I was still there.

He’d pull me down onto his lap for breakfast, sharing the same meal as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He’d work out while I acted like a human dumbbell attached to him. That would end in hot, feral, delicious sex, followed by a freezing shower I still hated with a passion. Then we’d curl up in the chair, tangled together, while we talked, read, or kissed. That would be my favourite part of the day. The long, slow make-out sessions that made my chest so full it almost hurt, or the hours that seemed to fly by as we talked about nothing and everything. In those moments, I could almost forget where we were and why.

We’d been left alone since Monster killed the men who’d attacked me. The only proof we hadn’t been forgotten was the food trays sliding through the door three times a day. He’d had no fights, no killing missions, nothing. But we’d just been told he had one tonight, and it made my stomach twist.

The darkness in him seemed to retreat the longer they stayed away; the real man inside, who had never felt safe enough to be seen, was breaking through. And that man was affectionate, needy as hell and obsessed with learning everything about me. How I thought. What I loved. The music in my head. And I was in serious trouble. Because somewhere between the passionate kisses, the mind-blowing sex, the quiet conversations and the way he held me at night, I was falling for him. Hard and fast.

I couldn’t help but think of a life together outside, and how much I yearned for it. We had to escape. When I’d only been thinking about myself, I knew my only option was to wait for my family to find me. But I wasn’t leaving without this man. He was the most lethal and dangerous man I’d ever met, and I knew he could get us out.

I just had to convince him to try. To want it for himself. This had been his life for so long that he didn’t know what it meant to truly want to live. To have hope for a life different from this. Maybe he didn’t think he deserved it, as if he weren’t human enough to live a life outside chains and cages. Whatever had happened in his past, whatever they’d done to him over the last twenty-four years, had ripped every ounce of faith and hope from his soul. I knew there was still a part of him buried deep inside that wanted more. He may not see it, but I did.

My fingers tightened slightly, nails digging into his shoulders as he lowered again. He let out a slow, controlled breath.

“I want to come to the fight tonight.”

He froze mid-press-up. I stared at the back of his head, at the messy black strands I ran my fingers through several times a day.

“No.”

He carried on. I lowered myself onto him, lying on his back and wrapping my arms around his torso. I kissed his shoulder blade as his dark eyes remained fixed on the floor beneath him.

“I don’t want to be left here alone. I want to be wherever you are.”

Even though he showed no emotion, I knew the words were registering. He was thinking, contemplating the two scenarios. Me, left alone in the bunker after what happened last time he had to leave, and me at the fight, watching him in the cage.

“It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous for me to stay here without you, too.”

“No one will touch you. Sean and I have a deal. They know what will happen to them if they do.”

I sighed quietly. “Please.”

He dropped to his knees on the floor and sat back on his heels. I slipped around to his front, straddling his lap and keeping my arms locked around his neck. His tattooed fingers ran through my knotty curls as they bounced. I think playing with my hair calmed him; he seemed to do it often.

“I won’t be able to concentrate with you there,” he said, scowling deeply.