Chapter 12

CHAPTER

TWELVE

Saverio

W ith our mission accomplished, Giorgio and I fly back to New York City on Sunday evening. It's been a tense week during which neither of us spoke more than ten words. He leans back on the seat opposite me in the chopper and loosens his tie, seeming to relax for the first time since we left for Boston. The pensive way he looks at me tells me he's got shit on his mind, but I'm too focused on what I'm busy with to give him my attention, which is watching Anya on the camera that feeds to the app on my phone as she gets ready for bed.

I've been obsessively stalking her via those cameras during the week. It had more to do with a foreign anticipation that built in my gut than making sure she doesn't cross any lines. The man I put in charge of watching her is doing his job. He would've alerted me if she tried anything foolish. No, my obsession is born from a strange possession that pumps through my veins. I've always condemned slavery, but by God, I'd love to make her my slave, to shackle her to me and coerce obedience from her with the sweetest punishment. As always, my cock agrees with that thought.

Yet the eagerness to get back to her doesn't sprout from lust alone. Worry won't leave me in peace. She's been sick most mornings and throughout the day. Losing that much energy and nutrients can't be good for her or the baby. She hasn't slept well either. She's frequently up in the middle of the night for a drink of water. Sometimes, she switches on the bed lamp and reads. The only reason I won't barge straight into her apartment tonight is because she needs her rest. We'll land late, but come Monday morning, I'm taking her to see Nicole.

"You need to let this thing with Rachele go," Giorgio says.

I lift my face from my phone. "Who says I didn't?"

"You haven't been yourself this week. You're preoccupied. It's not like you to be unfocused during a job."

I fix him with a cold look. "You know better than to fucking push me now." I'm still in killer mode, the violence coursing through me making me more of a war machine than a man. "I did the job, and I did it well."

"I know you, Sav." He stretches his arms over the back of his seat. "Seeing her on Wednesday fucked with your head."

I don't bother to reply. I check the screen of my phone. Anya is in bed, lying on her side with the covers pulled up to her chin. She has a habit of making a nest with pillows before settling in. She always pushes one between her knees and another against her stomach. I love that little ritual, and I missed it because of fucking Giorgio.

"Are you going to kill him?" he asks.

Clenching my jaw, I close the app and meet his gaze again. "Who?"

"Archibald."

"Maybe."

He considers me for a moment before saying, "It'll make Rach miserable."

I know, and in that lies the problem, because no matter what passed between us, I will always care about her in the way one cares about family. Besides, Luigi won't take kindly to it. As much as Giorgio is his biggest disappointment, Rachele is his greatest pride. She's always been the apple of his eye.

"You need to move on," Giorgio says. "Find yourself a new girlfriend."

My laugh is harsh. "I have no intention of ever falling into that trap again. Besides, my contact in the bureau said the police are asking questions about Anya and me. They want to know if we're legit. Until such time as the investigation is closed, we'll be the perfect, happy couple."

Shaking his head, he says, "That's a sick game, even for you. You're going to have to kill her eventually. When the dust settles, she'll disappear quietly."

I clench my fingers into fists lest I strike out and strangle the very man I'm supposed to protect. "No one fucking touches her, or that cocksucker is dead."

"Easy." He raises his hands. "You're acting like a dog with bone."

"She's important," I bite out. "As long as she's my ticket to freedom, she's my property, and I'll kill anyone who lays a finger on what belongs to me."

"Jesus, Sav." He pinches his eyebrows together. "You need to get laid, man." Resting his elbows on his knees, he leans closer. "Let's go to the club tonight. Nothing takes the edge off like pussy. We can take two each. Hell, why not three? We can fuck a different hole of each."

My tone is cool. "You're on your own. I'm supposed to be a faithful boyfriend, remember?"

He sighs and sits back. "You're fucked up, know that?"

"I'd rather be fucked up than in jail."

"It's going to screw you up." He taps his temple. "Not getting your dick sucked for months—because trust me, this investigation isn't going to blow over any time soon—is going to make you cranky."

Cranky is a light way of putting it. Not that blowjobs did much for me in the last few months. I suppose the problem was that I didn't care about those flaxen-haired beauties. I felt nothing as they touched me, not for them and even less for myself. Like I said, they worked damn hard for their money. Pumping me empty took skill, effort, and a fuck-ton of patience. The only thing that prevented them from asking the question in the forefront of their minds was how much they feared me. No one would dare say the I-word and my name in the same sentence. As it turned out, it only took Anya to prove that I didn't turn impotent overnight. I have no intention of becoming cranky when I can drag her into my bed. However, I don't tell Giorgio that.

My phone rings just as we come down to land, cutting the conversation short.

Thank fuck.

I check the caller ID. Once the pilot has put the chopper down and cut the blades, I swipe the button.

"Livy, what a surprise. I hope everything is all right?"

"Yes, yes," she says in a croaky voice. "As good as it can be at my age."

"What can I do for you?"

Her tone is assertive. "You and I, mister, need to talk."

In a wink, I'm on high alert. Did she find out something? Anya likes her. It would be a shame if I have to kill her, but I won't hesitate to do what must be done.

"Of course," I say, letting her hear the smile in my words. "Tonight?"

"It's late already." She adds quickly, "Well, too late for a visit. I'm an early riser, so I go to bed early."

"How about tomorrow?"

"Nine o'clock," she says in a no-nonsense manner. "I don't want to sound like a cliché, Mr. De Luca, but don't be late."

With that, she hangs up.

"Who was that?" Giorgio asks, regarding me with suspicion.

"Anya's neighbor, the old lady who caught us and thought we were making out in the street." I pocket my phone. "She wants to talk."

He narrows his eyes. "About what?"

I open the hatch and get out. "I'll find out tomorrow."