Reckless Games (Reckless Mafia #1)

Chapter 7

Angela

“I guess you are right, but do you really have to move?” Emily's voice held a hint of disappointment as she continued her wishful thinking. “Did Lorenzo say anything about you needing to find a new place? I mean, I'd do anything to keep living in a mansion like his. Even if it means I have to mop the floors myself.” She sighed, clearly enjoying the thought of the lavish lifestyle that came with living in such a grand estate.

“It is what it is, Emily,” I replied, still scrolling through house rental listings on my phone. “I can’t live here forever.” And I have to get back to work starting next week. I had taken off for a few days to recover from the not-so-little house-shocker. But I had to get back on track.

“Yeah, what a pity,” she lamented, taking a bite of the chocolate cake we had baked earlier. “But one can hope. By the way—” She turned to face me, capturing my attention. “Can’t you just move in with me?”

It was a generous offer from Emily, and I appreciated it, but I knew her apartment was small, barely accommodating her own belongings. Adding another person to the space would be impractical.

“Yeah, and kick out the rest of your stuff to fit in mine. No thanks. Regardless, thank you for offer. It's the thought that counts.”

“Come-on, I'm pretty sure we could share the bed,” she retorted, playfully slapping my arm.

“And have you fallen on the floor in the middle of the night? Now that would be a sight to witness. You cramping up and then being all bitchy in the morning because of your crappy nights,” I shook my head.

Before Emily could respond, Lorenzo entered the living room, Giovanni trailing behind him. Lorenzo's usual composed demeanor seemed more intense, his face tight and focused.

“Welcome back,” I greeted, trying to break the awkward silence. His presence made my throat dry. Disheveled hair, strong arms visible under the rolled-up sleeves of his crisp white shirt, and the loosened jacket hanging in one hand all painted a picture of a man who had been extremely busy. Regardless, he was walking perfection.

His gaze softened as it met mine, but perhaps it was just my imagination. Lorenzo stopped in front of us, assessing both me and Emily before addressing her directly. “Gio will take you home,” he stated firmly, leaving no room for negotiation. Clearly, it was an indirect way of saying that our time was up.

Emily glanced between us, her expression showing that she would rather not debate with the man who stood tall at six feet and three inches. Not that I see it, I might look tiny next to him for just being six inches over five feet. “Loved catching up. See you soon,” she whispered, hugging me briefly.

I nodded, giving her a reassuring smile before watching Giovanni lead her out of the room. The atmosphere immediately shifted, becoming even more charged and intense. Lorenzo seemed exhausted, maybe from a long day at work, and I could sense the weight of whatever was on his mine.

He settled down beside me on the couch, positioning himself closer than necessary. His thigh brushed against mine, sending a current through me. He leaned back against the couch and let out a deep, weary sigh, closing his eyes and spreading his arms across the backrest. His arm brushed against my back, making me feel cocooned in his presence.

I wanted to ask him what had made him so tired and exhausted, but I was wary of possibly angering him. Still, it felt like a safe enough question to check on his well-being.

“Um…” I murmured hesitantly. Lorenzo's eyes snapped open, focusing intently on me.

“What is it, angel?” he asked softly, surprising me with the tenderness in his voice.

“Are you okay?”

His gaze locked with mine, a hint of warmth and intrigue in his eyes. “I am now,” he replied.

“That's good.” I smiled, pleased that he seemed to have softened in my presence.

“How was your day?” Lorenzo leaned in, giving me his full attention as he rested his elbows on his knees. His intense gaze made my heart race.

My day had been so much fun with Emily, and I was eager to share that with him. “Oh, I had a great day with Emily!” I exclaimed. He hummed in response, encouraging me to continue with a lazy smile playing on his lips. “We baked a cake together, and we caught up on everything we missed. Then we had a Harry Potter marathon, but got sidetracked by more gossiping…” I tailed off as one of his men entered the living room and began speaking to Lorenzo.

“Capo, I need to inform—” the guard started, but Lorenzo raised a hand, silencing him while maintaining his focus on me. His jaw tensed slightly, indicating his displeasure at the interruption.

“Go on,” he motioned for me to continue.

I attempted to resume my story, “and then I wondered if I should—” I tried again, but the man interrupted me once more.

“Capo, it's importa—” the guard didn't finish his sentence when Lorenzo swiftly drew his gun from his belt and fired into the guy’s shoulder. The sudden gunshot made me jump, and I watched in shock as he cried out in pain.

Another one of his men rushed in to assist the injured man, while Lorenzo, still calm, glared at the scene. “When she talks, everybody fucking listens! No matter how important anything is, it can wait,” he said sternly, his voice low and grim. “Nobody disrespects her. Or else the next time, it’s going to be your throat. Add it to the rules!” The two men nodded fearfully and quickly exited the room.

I sat there, stunned by what just happened. Lorenzo had shot someone for interrupting me, even though it could have been something important. I didn't dare question his decision, knowing how unpredictable his reactions could be. But was that really necessary? I looked back and forth at the place where the two men stood seconds ago and the guy sitting beside me.

“So, is there still some cake left?” Lorenzo asked nonchalantly. I nodded, still in shock.

“Would you mind bringing some for me to my room while I freshen up?” he asked. I could only nod in response, trying to digest the situation that just transpired.

***

I carefully sliced the cake and placed it on a plate, feeling a swirl of apprehension as I made my way upstairs to Lorenzo’s room. What he had done earlier with his own man had left me uneasy. This man had some serious anger issues.

When I arrived at his room, I knocked a couple of times, but there was no response. Assuming he might be in the shower, I decided to just place the cake by his bedside and quietly leave. That wasn’t a hard task, right? However, as I turned to leave the room, Lorenzo emerged from the bathroom, his presence commanding my immediate attention.

Oh my! My eyes took in his perfectly sculpted form, damp and glistening from the shower. Did I mention he was shirtless? His chiseled chest and defined muscles seemed to be carved from marble. The fearless phoenix tattoo rested on the center of his chest; its wings spread out to reach his shoulders. I noticed that the ink managed to cover the bullet scars he got a year ago. My breath hitched, and I was unable to tear my gaze away from his raw, confident beauty. I was thankful he was wearing sweat pants.

“I, um, just came in to leave the cake here,” I stammered, flustered by his unexpected appearance. “I didn’t want to intrude... ” Why the hell was I so lost for words? “..never mind. I'll come back later.”

I turned to leave, but Lorenzo’s firm voice stopped me in my tracks. “Wait!” he said, the tone leaving no room for argument. I froze, my hand on the doorknob, unable to move as I heard his footsteps approach.

He stood behind me, his figure looming over me. His chest brushed against my back, sending a shockwave through my body. The door closed behind us with a crisp click as he pushed it shut. My pulse quickened as I stood close to him, while the air grew hot and charged with anticipation. His hand found its way to my waist, holding me firmly as he turned me around to face him. My eyes closed on their own accord as his hands caged me in, resting on either side of my head against the door. I concentrated on the seemingly impossible task at hand; breathing.

“Look at me, Angela,” he whispered huskily into my ear, his breath warm against my skin. His voice sent a trail of goosebumps down my skin, and my body responded involuntarily to his command. “Let me see those oceans,” he murmured, his lips grazing my earlobe, making me gasp.

I opened my eyes and locked gazes with him, captivated by the intensity of his stare. His silver orbs, deeper than a galaxy, seemed to bore into my soul, a mixture of desire and desperation swirling within them. The tension between us was thick, like an electric current that left me both nervous and exhilarated.

He closed his eyes briefly, his jaw clenching as he seemed to struggle with some inner turmoil. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, a soft, exasperated curse that seemed to be directed at himself.

I stood still, holding my ground, the plate of the dessert being the only barrier between us. After a moment of intense silence, he slowly stepped back, releasing me from his hold. He took my hand and led us to his bed, where he sat down and took the plate from my hands.

I watched him closely, my heart still racing, as he scooped a bite of cake and brought it to his lips. His gaze connected with mine, not moving a centimeter as he savored the cake without breaking eye contact, almost daring me to look away. The way he looked at me made me feel a mix of vulnerability and excitement. I was going to choke on air anytime soon if this continued.

Then he took another spoonful of cake and held it out to me. “Have some with me.” I obediently opened my lips to take the bite, chewing slowly as his eyes stayed fixed on me. After swallowing, I saw his gaze lower to my lips. His next move stunned me. He leaned in, closing the gap between us, and sensually licked the frosting clean from the corner of my lips, a low, satisfied groan escaping his throat. My heart stopped beating. “Fucking delicious,” he murmured, all the while his intense gaze never leaving mine.

***