Dirty Born: A Dark Mafia Romance: (Micheli Mafia Book 4) (Dirty: A Dark Mafia Romance Series) by Zoe Beth Geller

Author:Zoe Beth Geller [Geller, Zoe Beth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kinky Ink Publishing
Published: 2022-02-19T16:00:00+00:00

18

Valentina

Dazed over the loss of Papa and the fact that him walking me so proudly into the reception this afternoon was the last time I’ll ever feel his presence is tragic. I never got to say “I love you Papa” one last time. I can’t remember the last time I said those words. In hindsight, I was selfish and behaved like a spoiled brat.

His marriage was for the good of the family business and it’s one that gave me private schools, jets and luxuries most people never experience.

Now I find myself in the home of a stranger who Ridolfo is fine with and. . .

“How did you know Ridolfo’s name?”

“We’ve met.”

“You’re leaving out details,” I say as my mind struggles to put the together details.

“Not important.” Massimo smiles at me and takes my hand into his own. “You’re safe, we’re not the bad guys.”

My eyes connect with him and suck me in. I’m falling for him, like a bowl of my favorite gelato. I can’t get enough.

“Wait. The reception of a couple I don’t know, Papa is murdered and you’re there to save the day? I don’t think so.”

“Timing, that’s all.”

His hands warm mine and the heat travels up my arm. I can’t deny the tingles that go with it. His hands are surprisingly soft, not a paper pusher, but not manual labor either. He has no calluses.

Uncomfortable with his hands on mine, I immediately pull mine free. I cover my mouth to keep from shrieking and leap to my feet. My teacup flies across the room, landing on an oriental rug that must be irreplaceable if the pattern is authentic. Judging from the ornate items in the room and the lighted works of art adorning the walls, everything in the room must be collectible antiques.

I sprint to the end of the room, looking for a way out as anxiety wells in my chest.

“You won’t get far Valentina,” his calm voice stops me in my tracks. He’s not a man to mess around with but more than that. . .

His voice. I know that voice now that I’m not looking at him, and the pineapple smell jogs my memory. The hair on the nape of my neck stands up like a cat cornered by a dog.

I turn, facing the one man I’ve been longing to meet, the man with the sword tattoo. The tattoo on Massimo’s hand looks like the one on the man who rescued me in the garden from the few details I managed to observe before he fled.

I lift my eyes slowly. This is the man I owe a debt to. This is the man who slit someone’s throat to save me. This is the man who kissed my lips and left me thinking about him for months.

“You.” I can barely say the word as I take in his face, his dark eyes. I remember them, they reflected the same loneliness I see in mine.

He saved me again tonight. His hands are a contradiction in motion, capable of saving a life or taking one.

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