Reckless Games (Reckless Mafia #1)

Chapter 1

Present; Angela: 24, Lorenzo: 31

Angela

"Love me, love me. Say that you love me," Emily belted out at the top of her lungs, causing my ears to throb with each off-key note. She gyrated to the imaginary beat, oblivious to the death stares I was inflicting at her.

"Would you please stop that? How many times do I have to remind you that your singing resembles a dying hyena?" I sighed, shaking my head at the live wire in Cafe Bistrovia. "You're going to scare off the customers."

Emily flashed me a mischievous grin. "Oh, come on now. We all know I'm the life of this place. You'd all be bored stiff without me." She winked at a passing customer, who flashed her a toothy grin in return.

"Order up!" The chef's voice echoed from the kitchen window, diverting Emily's attention as she deftly balanced three plates laden with penne pasta, Italian steak, and a juicy hamburger.

"Gotta go," she chirped, bustling off to serve the waiting tables.

"Remind her not to sing next time, or we'll all end up deaf," Marco, our seasoned chef, quipped from the kitchen.

"I heard that, Marco!" I chuckled, enjoying the banter between the two.

Life had settled into a monotonous routine since my parents' tragic accident. Get up, work to survive, eat, sleep, and repeat. I longed for something to break the monotony and inject excitement into my mundane existence.

And then, twelve months ago, he walked into my life. With stormy silver eyes that held depths I could drown in, he swept me off my feet with a single glance. For a brief moment, life felt electric, full of promise and possibility.

But like a passing storm, he vanished as quickly as he appeared, leaving me yearning for more. And so, I returned to the same old routine. He should have at least left his number out of courtesy. At least in the name of gratitude for practically saving his life. I had tried reaching his friend’s number that he called with my phone that day, but I figured he already blocked me after I got no response.

As time passed, his absence only fueled my thoughts, leading them back to him with alarming frequency. Okay, who was I kidding? My mind practically lived in his orbit. Did he ever think of me? Did he miss me as much as I missed him?

But then reality crashed down on me like a wave, washing away any romantic notions. Why would he miss me when we barely knew each other? What I felt was just attraction, I reminded myself. Plus, why would someone like him as much as even glance twice at someone like me ? Would he even remember me if our paths crossed again, or would I become just another stranger in his life? The weight of these questions pressed down on me, threatening to suffocate any hope I held onto. I shook my head, attempting to dispel the thoughts as Emily returned, a radiant smile plastered across her face. She carried a bouquet of roses and a bag.

"Who's that from?" I blurted out, unable to contain my curiosity.

Surprisingly, she shook her head. "Not for me, but for you!" she exclaimed, her grin widening.

"For me?" I echoed, taken aback.

"Yes, and there's more," she chirped, handing me the bouquet and a small card. I frowned and opened it, reading the message inside.

Even when apart, my thoughts are woven with threads of your presence, wrapping me in a blanket of warmth that knows no bounds. In your presence, I found my heaven and my hell, for even the devil yearns for the embrace of an angel like you.

My eyes narrowed at the words. Who would send this to me? “Who gave it to you?”

“The delivery guy brought it to the front of the restaurant. Does it say who it's from?” Emily’s curiosity piqued and she plucked the note out of my hands. "Wow, talk about an unconventional love confession. He could have at least thrown in an 'I love you.' Maybe I should start giving your admirers some pointers; they won't stand a chance with lines like that." I shot her a pointed look, the one that screamed, are you kidding me?

“Open the bag,” Emily interjected, sensing the need to change the subject. I sighed and reached into the bag, pulling out a dress. And to say I was stunned would be an understatement; the dress was absolutely breathtaking. It would reach my midthigh easily. The deep, rich shade of crimson only added to its allure, enhancing its beauty in a way that left me speechless. It was simple, yet enchanting. “No freaking way! That's beautiful. I too want admirers now!”

"I don't know. I mean, don't you think something just feels... off?"

“You think too much. Eat the mangoes girl, don't count the pits. Plus, you are definitely wearing this tonight. We'll go out!” I had a weird feeling about all of this. And as far as I know, my intuitions are never wrong.

“Get back to work!” Margaret, the cafe’s manager, clapped twice sternly, grabbing our attention before I put the things away and went to take more orders from the customers.

***

"Are you still sulking on him?" Emily's voice cut through the pulsating beats of the club as I knocked back another shot. Despite my efforts to suggest a quiet dinner at a fancy place, she insisted on dragging me here. But I stood firm on my condition that if we were going to a club, it had to be of my choice. Which was why we were now standing in Inferno .

"Who?" I feigned ignorance. She decided to wear a black spaghetti strap dress, reaching just above her knees while practically force-squeezing me into the dress that came in today from the stalker. Emily said it was too beautiful to be left waiting for it's turn. I couldn't deny, the dress did fit me like a second skin, enhancing every curve of my body. It made me feel sexy. What can I say? I was after all blessed in my woman-departments. More than needed, actually.

"Silver eyes?" Ah, there it was. I instantly regretted telling her anything about that night, but in my defense, I was drunk. At least Emily had promised to keep it under wraps, and so far, she was doing a decent job.

"You wish," I lied. Of course, I always thought of him. Did I sulk over the fact that I wouldn't see him again? Perhaps.

"Forget it then. Tonight, we're finding you a new guy. Let's hit the dance floor," Emily suggested enthusiastically.

"I'm really not in the mood." I declined, taking another shot.

"Oh, come on! Live a little. Who knows, we might just find you a handsome replacement who can outshine Mr. Silver Eyes." I highly doubt that, but was there any harm in trying? I guess not.

She pulled me onto the dance floor with an unyielding grip, and try as I might, I couldn't break free. With the pounding beat of the music engulfing us, she began to move, nudging me playfully to join in. Reluctantly, I started to sway, allowing the rhythm to guide my movements.

"Woohoo, own it, girl! Show 'em what you've got!" She cheered enthusiastically as I surrendered to the music. Maybe it was the alcohol, but I found myself letting go, embracing the intoxicating energy of the club.

As Emily caught the eye of a guy and began to engage with him, I found myself gradually drifting away from her, lost in the pulsating crowd. She danced off with the guy, both of them happily grinding on each other. Well, at least one of us was having a blast. I brushed aside the sudden pang of emptiness that struck me, determined to maintain a cheerful facade. However, our carefree moment was shattered when the sound of gunfire pierced through the music.

***

Lorenzo

Exhaling a puff of smoke, the cigar dangled lazily from my fingertips as my gaze remained fixed on her. From the heightened point of my office in the club, I had a perfect view of the captivating show she was putting on. Damn, she was utterly oblivious to the attention she was drawing. That's what I mean by her innocence—it's both endearing and infuriating. Yet, seeing her here, embracing my club, fills me with a sense of pride. I'm proud of her choices. And of mine. I knew that dress would accentuate her beauty the moment my eyes fell on it, back when I was accompanying Emir—my ally and the leader of the Turkish Mafia—to select a few dresses for the girl he rescued—practically the wife of his sworn enemy. That guy has it deep for her and doesn't even fucking realize it.

My crotch pulsed, the blood immediately rushed to it as I saw her move her delectable body sensually to the beat of the music. Deep down, I kinda also regret buying that dress, as she was turning more heads than needed, igniting the urge to behead every single one of them. She always finds her way back here on the days she's feeling down. Whether it's because of her relentless manager who never cuts her any slack during shifts, or to escape the haunting memories of her parents’ death. How do I know? Because I keep a vigilant watch over everything that's mine .

Angela Thompson, soon to be Angela Martinez, became the catalyst of my undoing, the bane of my existence the night she rescued me. Now, I'm at her beck and call, a willing servant prepared to fulfill her every command, all without her even realizing it. She was mine the moment my eyes landed on her. At that time, I was too fucking stupid to realize what the changes in my heartbeat meant. But now it was all crystal clear.

But really, who in their right mind would save an injured stranger, let alone accompany them to the hospital, all while he's wielding a gun and engaging in acts of killing people? It defied all rationality. Yet, she did just that. It was this inexplicable act of kindness that compelled me to keep a vigilant watch over her. An innocent beauty like her, in a world as ruthless as ours, needed my protection. And I was determined that it would be mine alone to provide.

“Another night of admiring her from afar?” Another night of pure torture and understanding the meaning of so close, yet so far, I wanted to correct Giovanni as he sauntered into my office, sinking into the couch with a heavy sigh. But I decided not to say anything. “When are you deciding to make yourself known to her?” When the time comes. And when would that be? I had not decided yet.

"Declan needed some border security for the shipment. Is it taken care of?" I inquired instead.

"Yes, I just sorted it out. He mentioned he'll reach out if he needs more weapons," he replied. I nodded, taking another puff of smoke from my cigar. My gaze locked on the enchantress as I stood before the expansive glass window. "I believe we may have a slight issue," Giovanni muttered, a frown etched on my features before I pivoted to meet his gaze. However, his eyes were fixed on the security footage screen across the room. Five armed men forcefully breached the club's entrance, shooting the guards who attempted to block their path. Gunfire erupted as they stormed inside.

I bolted out of the office, Giovanni hot on my tail, barking orders to rally my men. The urgency in my voice echoed through the chaos as I called for them to gather around swiftly. As I set foot in the club, a wave of déjà vu washed over me, the familiar scene of pandemonium unfolding before my eyes. Amidst the screams and cries, my focus honed in on one person: Angela. The rest of the club could light up in flames for all I cared, as long as she remained unharmed.

Anger ignited within me as I witnessed her struggling to assist her friend, who lay slumped against the wall, drunk. That's not what angered me. It was the sight of an intruder closing in on Angela with a gun aimed at her back. In a split second, I drew my gun, my finger tightening on the trigger as I aimed, the bullet finding its mark in the center of the intruder's forehead. My men sprang into action, neutralizing the remaining threats and ushering the people to safety, while I made a beeline for Angela.

I noticed her trembling with each gunshot. My heart clenched at the sight of her vulnerability. Damn it, I needed to get her to safety. It became clear that the initial five men were merely a distraction, as more men emerged, turning the club into a battleground. I would be damned if I let history repeat itself on my watch. Not here in my vicinity, not now.

A bullet whizzed past me and my head whipped to pinpoint its source—a hulking figure throwing a sharp glare my way. With lightning reflexes, I returned fire, three shots piercing his chest, sending him crashing to the ground.

Angela's piercing scream tore through the chaos, drawing my attention back to her. Her eyes darted between her unconscious friend and the approaching threat. One of the guys with a gun was closing in on her. I quickly assessed her, relieved to find no signs of injury, only sheer terror etched on her face. Without hesitation, I maneuvered towards her, approaching from a blind spot.

Unable to lift her friend, Angela seized an abandoned gun lying near her on the floor, her hands trembling as she aimed it at the advancing man. "Stay back! Or I'll shoot," my girl declared, attempting to summon courage despite her trembling frame. The man scoffed, taunting her with a sinister smirk.

"If you had the guts, you’d have already pulled the trigger, darling," he spat, both of them locked in a standoff.

Closing in on Angela, I reached her side just as her finger tightened on the trigger, murmuring a prayer under her breath. “Please forgive me, God,” I heard her mumble. If only she knew, an angel like her doesn't need forgiveness. In one fluid motion, I encircled her, pulled her back against my chest, and took control of the gun in her hand. With one pull of the trigger, a thump echoed after the fire went off and the guy dropped, silencing the room.

Angela gasped while her form was tightly pressed against mine, making a surge of temptation course through me, threatening to unleash the primal desires simmering beneath the surface. I swallowed hard, struggling to contain the beast within as her intoxicating scent enveloped me, eliciting a silent groan of longing. Damn it, this position was fucking torture.

Agonizingly slow, she peeled herself away from me, each movement sending a jolt of anticipation through my veins. Finally facing me, her jaw dropped in surprise. I’d have given anything in that moment to know what was running through her tiny head. And then, with a seductive grace, her rosy lips parted, each syllable stirring a hunger within me that I never knew existed.

"Lorenzo?"

Fuck, I was a goner.

***