Crowned In Blood

Chapter 8

8

Catalina

I couldn't move.

Breathe.

In and out. In and out.

My heart pounded so hard it was all I could hear. Seeing him reminded me of the night of the party, and I felt everything—anger, frustration, even a hint of fear.

But it wasn't just that. This man was uniquely capable of getting under my skin. He saw things I didn't want him to, things it wasn't safe for anyone to see. I had to keep them hidden, especially in this line of work, and even more so if he was working for my father.

Something in me said he wouldn't be the type. With his shoulder-length brown hair and tattoos peaking under the collar and cuffs of his shirt, he seemed like someone who would play the long game until he got what he wanted. Then he'd kill you.

But while I trusted my gut, there was no other reason he would have been at that party except to meet my father, which meant his presence was a threat.

"It's nice to see you again. I hope your dreams came true." His voice was deep, but warm, as though he truly meant it.

I turned to my assistant. "Olivia, cancel my schedule for the rest of the day, then head home." I turned back to the man. "And you, follow me."

I could feel him behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as the static electricity arched between us. I was hyperaware of him and I hated it.

The elevator doors opened, and when I stepped inside, he followed. The moment they slid closed, I spun around, pinning him to the wall, my knife against his throat.

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but he didn't make a move. He relaxed, his dark brown eyes somehow growing even darker, then he smirked.

Is he enjoying himself right now? He's fucking crazy.

"Why are you here?" I hissed.

"To meet with you, of course. Although if I would have known this was the reaction I'd get out of you, I would have come a lot sooner."

Yep. Crazy.

But based on his reaction, a fight wasn't what he wanted, which meant I wouldn't need to kill him. Yet.

The elevator reached the ground floor, and I moved to step outside to the patio area, but he grabbed the door before I could.

I glanced up at him and he had another infuriating smile on his face.

He was playing with me, and I was letting him.

Control yourself. The faster you find out what he wants, the sooner he leaves. Take a deep breath and deal with him the same way you would anyone else.

We walked in silence to the boardwalk encircling a glistening lake with a water fountain in the middle. I listened to the small chirp of birds and let the rays of the sun warm my chilled body. Then I turned to him and asked again, "Why are you here?"

"I meant it when I said to meet with you." His tone was gentle, casual, as if it was the perfect explanation when it made no sense at all.

"If you wanted to speak with me, you could have just called the office or sent an email. I am a busy woman."

"I know. Your assistant said the same thing. But seeing you in person provides benefits that a phone call and email wouldn't."

"Why don't you cut the crap and just tell me what you want?" I glared at him, but his grin only grew.

"Are you always this dismissive?"

"Do you always assume a woman will bend over backwards to your every whim and be flattered if you pay her a sliver of attention?"

He was silent for a moment, then threw his head back, clasped his stomach, and laughed. The sound was deep, rich, real , and I was speechless.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, his smile so wide that for the first time I noticed he had dimples, and the way the sun shone over him, as his shoulders shook with each chuckle, had me transfixed.

I was both enamored and envious of his ease with me. And I was even more infuriated, that after everything I’d been through, I still found him attractive.

You're a woman. You have eyes. Of course, you'd find him attractive. Admitting that doesn't mean you'll act on it.

I gave myself a small, mental nod. The friend of my enemy was my enemy as well, and ?that included this man. I turned back to the lake, waiting for him to sober.

He was still chuckling as he said, "Not everyone bends over backwards for me, but I do normally have an easier time. That assistant of yours is a handful."

I imagined Olivia dealing with him and had to suppress a smile. "You might have had an easier time if you were a woman."

His eyebrow arched in question.

"She's gay."

The man looked like he was barely holding back another full-blown laugh. "And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Well, you're not bending over for me right now, although I promise if you did, I'd make sure it was extremely pleasurable for you."

I smirked. "That's because I'm simply not interested."

He settled the full weight of his unnerving gaze onto me, searching for something I refused to give. Then he turned serious. "The night we met, I never formally introduced myself. The reason I came here to see you was to make up for that. My name is Marco Torrino."

His name hit me like a ton of bricks. He was the leader of the Torrino Mafia Family, one of the most intricate and feared in this city.

New York had almost twenty-five different families living or working within it, Hispanic, Italian, Irish, Russian, and Japanese, and most were enemies. We were all out to protect our own, and it only took one person to step over that line to start a war.

It's why I'd done my best to sort through and memorize each of the leaders' names, but keeping up with their day-to-day activities, as well as their immediate families’ was a full-time job and time I didn't have.

Fernando didn't keep tabs on other families, only struck deals or threw cash at them, so I had almost no information about the Torrino’s boss, besides his name. But it shocked me to believe it was the carefree man in front of me.

Marco wasn't crazy, foolish, or at ease. He was dangerous .

I straightened my back and asked in a cold tone, "When did you get back to the country?"

He touched his chest. "I'm honored that you looked into me."

"Of course, it's only natural that I keep an eye on my enemies."

"I'm not your enemy, Catalina," he said, his voice low. "I'm your ally."

I scoffed. "As the head of another family whose borders are near my own, yes, you are. And anyone who was invited by my father that night was someone he believed could be an ally to him. An ally to my father could never be one to me."

"I am not your rival, nor your father's ally." Marco sneered, clenching his fist around the metal railing.

Why does he seem offended? Did I touch a nerve? "Then why were you invited?"

"Likely for the same reason Fernando was." His voice turned hard and flat. "To barter a deal."

Ah, yes, of course. I'm always the trophy, a prize to be fought over, then sold, never a person with value and worth.

I bristled under the heavy reminder of my past, the air suddenly as frigid as Marco's tone. It cut into me like a knife, breaking the glass jar I kept my emotions buried behind.

The truth hurt. It shouldn't have, but it did.

It wasn't as if I'd grown stupid enough to believe my father cared about me, or that if I could go back in time, I would have been able to escape my arranged marriage. But somehow, knowing that if Fernando had said no, my father would have offered me to Marco instead, made me sick.

How many people had my father invited that night for his deal? Was Fernando the first on the list, or did he have an entire roster?

Was that part of the reason I was constantly hounded by bosses thinking they could marry me and claim my empire? Were my father's decisions still affecting my life and success today?

When will it ever stop?

I'd been ignoring my father because I couldn't figure out how to deal with him. I couldn't kill him, it would be a PR nightmare, and as his next of kin, it would bring unwanted attention to my familia.

I had no idea if he was in bed with other families, and while I had power now, I was only one person. It was what held me back trying to find the people Fernando trafficked, and it was what was holding me back now.

I leveled my gaze at Marco but couldn't keep my sadness out of my tone. "Would you have made the same choice?"

His body trembled, nostrils flared, eyes narrowed, the vein in his neck engorged. But it was his face, the cold, absolute fury that came over him, that shocked me.

He looked like death, like someone who would destroy anyone and everyone in his path. For the first time since I'd met him, he looked every bit the killer I knew he was.

"If you wouldn't have killed Fernando, I would have. Do not ever compare me to that bastard again," he growled.

My throat went dry. I couldn't speak, and even after I swallowed, I still couldn't utter a single word.

I didn't trust anyone, especially not men, but I believed what Marco said. I may have not trusted a single other word he'd spoken since the moment I met him, but I knew, without a doubt, he would have killed Fernando for me. His reaction had been far too immediate for me to think otherwise.

I didn't know how to handle that, how to accept that there was someone, a complete stranger, who would have come to my aid. So I asked the only other thing I could, the only thing that felt safe. "What do you want from me?"

His eyes softened, his tone gentle. "There's something you need. Let me help you find it."

His words were a caress on my skin, but instead of calming me, it raised my hackles. "Have you been watching me, Marco?"

His lip lifted in a small smile. "I wouldn't be good at collecting information if I wasn't."

"Tell me then, did you know Fernando was trafficking children?" I hissed.

The thought that he might have found out what Fernando was doing, perhaps had even allied with him in the past and that was why he had approached me now, filled me with disappointment and disgust.

The mafia did illegal things all the time, but there were limits. If nowhere else, then for those in our own familia. It was our job to provide discipline, protection, and order, not to sell our members and treat them as cattle.

I had a firsthand experience of what that felt like, and even though I might need it, I could never accept the help of anyone who would do the same, especially in their own familia.

Marco stood to his full height, and I realized he'd angled himself so I wouldn't have to crane my neck to look at him. He'd been respectful, even when I hadn't been.

A thread of guilt twisted my gut.

You don't owe him anything, least of all respect. To some level, that was true. He had shown up on my turf, unannounced. I was certain he'd given Olivia a hard time. And while I still didn't know what his plans were, I was one-hundred percent certain they were far from innocent.

"Have you ever seen the ramifications of a mafia war?"

His question cut through my thoughts, and the intensity of his gaze stole my breath.

"No."

"When a mafia head is removed internally, it shakes up their entire organization. I'm certain you have some experience with that." His gaze hardened. "But when they're removed by another family, it's different. If both sides are not aligned, they will go to war, and that means they will risk everything , not only their lives, but the lives of those under them." He clenched his jaw so tightly that a tic started in his teeth. "I've seen innocent men, women, and children killed by stray bullets and assassinations all for power. A mafia war covers the streets in blood ," he cursed.

I steeled my breath. "Why are you telling me all of this?"

Marco leaned onto the railing, and although the stance seemed casual, the tension in his shoulders said otherwise. "I have always hated Fernando. I hated the way he did business, how he ran his familia, and the person he was. He was an asshole who cared about no one but himself and thought he could buy anything he wanted in the city, and did, frequently ," he bit out. "But if I would have known he was trafficking children, I would have started a war, regardless of the expense it would have cost me. I've seen people who have gone through that, how it affects them. How it breaks them, and I would never stand for it."

I gulped. I wanted to question him, to ask if he would really go that far for the freedom of someone else, but when he turned his head and I met his eyes, absolute certainty shone through.

"I'm not the only one who would have either, Catalina. Some sections of The Underground operate differently, but the Spanish are forbidden from trafficking or slavery within the familia. Our people came to New York to get away from those things in their own countries, and that was one of the rules we all agreed on."

"If that's the case, then how did Fernando get away with it for years ? Someone should have caught him."

He nodded. "That's what I'd like to help you find out."

I angled my head up to him, observing him in the same way he often observed me. "And what do you want in return?"

"A favor."

I crossed my arms. "Are you going to expand on that?"

He smirked. "When the time is right."

A small, hollow chuckle escaped my lips. "I'm pretty sure that's the oldest trick in the book, Marco. Why would I agree to that?"

"Because you need my help. My specialty is gathering information, and you'll find no one better than me in the entire Northeastern United States. I also have ties to Italy. If anyone has been trafficked out of New York through Spain or Italy, I'll be able to find them in time."

I bit my lip to keep myself from scowling. He was right.

"And if that's not enough, I can teach you about the other families here."

My head snapped up, and I glared at him. "What?—"

"I'm not insulting you," he said gently. "But I know how much there is to learn about this world. It took me years to understand the ins and outs, and you've only been in this for six months. You've done an amazing job in that time, better than I or anyone else could, and you will continue to, even without my help. But why not use me for all I'm worth? I have knowledge you won't be able to find anywhere else. Let me help you fill the gaps you have."

He took a step closer, and I studied him. His dark hair blew around his face, but his deep brown eyes never left mine. An air of ease and certainty seemed to exude from him, wrapping around me. Yet he didn't seem cocky; he seemed genuine.

Still, I had to ask. "Why?"

"Would you prefer me to lie to you or be honest, even if it will make you uncomfortable?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I'd prefer honesty if you can manage it."

He chuckled, taking another step closer until the tip of our shoes touched, and my heartbeat raced in my chest. "Because I want to see you succeed. I went to your birthday party, not because your father reached out to me." He leaned in, his voice a dark, hushed whisper. "It was simply an opportunity."

I tried to shrug off how breathless I was. That anything about him could affect me even in the slightest was something he could never know. If he did, he'd use it to his full advantage. I was sure of it. “For what?”

"To meet you."

"You can't honestly expect me to believe that."

"It's fine if you don't. But I saw potential in you that night and I see it now. You could have ruined your entire familia. Instead, it's running better than it did even when Fernando was alive." He stood to his full height once more. "You have skills and a mind that most don't, and anyone else would have failed where you have succeeded. There are no limits to where you can go, what you can achieve, and it would only make sense for me to ally myself with you and stay along for the ride."

The small part of my heart, the piece that had always wanted to be enough, do well enough, be praised for my accomplishments, fucking danced at his words, and I hated it.

"You know, your ability to be so smooth and find the right words to say is only going to make me not trust you more."

He shrugged. "I told you my honesty would make you uncomfortable. But does that mean you're going to turn down my offer?"

I wanted to, but I couldn't. He had more knowledge than I did and contacts outside of the country, and I needed that. And he was offering to share the information he had on other families with me, which would only aid my familiarity with this world.

I couldn't trust others. I had no one in my corner. But now this incredibly frustrating man was attempting to give me everything I needed for something as simple as a favor.

"I have conditions."

He grinned so wide, his dimples showed. "Name them."

"You will not attempt to hurt or kill me or my familia. Nor will you try to ruin us in any way."

"You have my word."

"And you will also not try to usurp me from my position as head of my familia nor try to undermine me or my power."

"Is that all?" His eyes twinkled. "I can even write up a contract if you'd like."

He looked thrilled, like he'd won something, and it irked me that I didn't know what it was. Still, I had no other stipulations. This deal was incredibly sided in my favor. He didn't have to concede to anything I wanted, yet he was still willing to.

I sighed. "Yes."

"Then I'll have the contract drawn up and sent over to you within the hour." He stepped back and held out his hand. "I'm excited to be working with you, Catalina."

He said my name as if he was savoring it, like a snake who had just caught the prey of a lifetime. It unnerved me, but I wrapped my fingers around his hand and shook it anyway. "Same to you, Marco."

He hummed, his fingers adjusting around my own and, with a firm grip, he bent down and kissed the back of my hand.

A bolt of electricity zipped to my shoulder, and I bit my cheek to keep from gasping at the small touch. But when he looked at me, his eyes were full of heat and mirth.

Dropping my hand, he stepped back. "I'll be seeing you soon, Catalina."

He walked away, but the feeling of his lips on my skin stayed behind.

What did I just get myself into?