Chapter Four

The sex club Matteo headed to was located on the edge of the city, and ordinary citizens would never suspect what went on behind the walls. It looked like any other ordinary business, with opaque windows and security out front.

He pulled up to the curb and a valet rushed forward. Matteo exited the car and handed over the fob.

"You put one scratch on this car and I'll take it out of your hide," he warned.

The valet quickly nodded, and Matteo liked the fear in the young man's eyes. Then he headed up the stairs, Rocco following him. The security guard opened the front door, allowing them to enter. Once inside, a large concierge desk with a well-dressed gentleman waited. Awareness entered his gaze as he greeted them.

"Welcome, Signor Romanelli."

"Ciao, Elio. Let Allegra know I'll be in her office, please."

Elio nodded, and the doors to the elevator opened. Matteo stepped inside, followed by Rocco who punched in the code to go upstairs to the offices.

"Wanna stop downstairs after we finish talking with Allegra? I could certainly use a good blowjob."

"It's 8:00 in the morning," Matteo reminded him.

"So? It's fuck o'clock somewhere."

Matteo rolled his eyes. "We don't have time to get your dick wet. After this I want to check in with our other businesses. Having one person not paying can be overlooked, but two starts setting a trend we can't allow to continue."

"Got 'cha," he said.

"Station Jaime to our southern border. Have him send daily reports."

"Will do."

The elevator doors opened and they exited, heading to Allegra's office. Matteo punched in the code and entered. A moment later, Allegra hurried after them.

"Mr. Romanelli!" she said with fake enthusiasm. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Really? You had no inkling since you didn't make your payment this month, that I wouldn't show up? Are you that stupid or just na?ve?"

She flashed a toothy smile and popped out her hip as she ran her fingers down her torso. It was a move to distract him, but he couldn't care less. He wasn't interested in her assets.

"I'm sure we can make a deal," she murmured seductively.

"Stop," he snarled, and she immediately straightened as her hand fell away from her body. "I came here for one thing and it's not fucking."

She sighed and dropped the pretense as she stuck her nose up. "You're taking my profits."

"Funny, I thought they were Romanelli profits. You're owned by us, remember?"

"How could I possibly forget?" she asked snidely.

Matteo took a step closer, using his size to intimidate her. "You agreed to the terms we laid out for you. You don't get to change the rules of the game."

She marched over to the wall, moving a painting to reveal a safe. With a few deft turns, it opened and she pulled out a stack of money before closing it back up. When she turned, she held out the stack of hundred-dollar bills.

"Take it," she snapped. "I hope you choke on it."

Her temper tantrum amused him. Rocco took the money and handed it over. "Remember, whore, you can easily be replaced."

"Fuck you," she hissed.

"No, thank you," Matteo said, slipping the money inside his coat pocket. "Worn pussy doesn't really do it for me."

"Asshole," she said, reaching up to slap his face.

"Careful," he warned, catching her arm. Then before she could respond, he quickly and easily broke it. She screamed and fell to her knees, and when he let go, her arm hung at an unnatural angle. "Don't make me come back here, Allegra. Or I'll have to hurt you more."

Leaving her crying on the floor, he marched out the door, Rocco following behind to watch his back. Almost immediately, he thought of Macy, and how different she was compared to this place. Compared to his life. He hurt a woman, even though he didn't like doing it. Being Pietro Romanelli's only son meant he couldn't turn his back on who and what he was. A killer. An abuser. A monster. Did he have the right to bring her into his world?

If he was a good person, he would never go back to her coffee shop. Let her find a nice, safe man to have a nice, safe life.

But he never considered himself a good man.

****

Macy yawned as she placed one foot in front of the other. It was going to be a long day and already she was exhausted. A couple more days and she could catch up on sleep. As she greeted Amanda, she thought about Matteo and secretly hoped she saw him again. They hadn't made any definite plans, but he seemed interested in her.

Still, throughout the day, every time the bell rang, her heart would race until she glanced up and realized it wasn't Matteo. Disappointment rolled through her, and when closing time rolled around, she knew he wasn't coming.

As she rode the bus back to her apartment, she tried to convince herself it was for the best and started to list all the reasons why she shouldn't get her hopes up. They were complete opposites. She was too busy trying to keep her head above water. He was obviously wealthy. He was sophisticated. The list went on, yet still, she was disappointed he hadn't shown up.

Macy had about an hour left before she had to clock in at the arcade, so she grabbed a quick bite to eat, showered and changed, and ran out the door in record time. The bus dropped her off in front of the arcade and she hurried inside to punch in. Before heading onto the floor, she used her inhaler. All the hurrying left her a little breathless.

"Thought you were going to be late," Tommy said as she slid behind the counter.

"Who, me? I'm never late."

He rolled his eyes good naturedly.

For it being a Wednesday, it was certainly hopping, and she stayed busy. A coworker had called out, so Macy found herself running back and forth from the floor to the rewards counter. By the time they closed, her feet hurt and her back ached. Still, if she was going to afford the shots she needed, she had to work as much as possible.

"Want me to give you a ride?" Tommy asked as they punched their timecard.

She should say no because she didn't want to take advantage of their friendship. She'd grown up in the system, and had learned at an early age that she couldn't rely on anyone but herself. But she was completely spent and the ride would knock about forty-five minutes from her commute.

"If you don't mind," she said. "I can pay you for—"

He held up his hand. "Absolutely not. That's what BFFs do for one another."

She smiled, but a yawn hit her at that moment and it took her a moment before she could talk. "Thank you, Tommy."

He led her out the back where the employee parking was located. After opening her door, he hurried around to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel. Macy leaned her head back and closed her eyes, and the next thing she knew, she was being shaken awake.

"Hey," Tommy said. "Now you're worrying me."

"I'll be okay," she assured.

"You're working yourself to the bone."

She shrugged. "I'll rest when I'm dead."

"Don't say shit like that," he said, scowling.

"Sorry," she said. "See you tomorrow."

"It's okay to take a day off."

"Nah, it's really not. Thanks for caring, my friend."

She patted his arm and then exited the car, turning and waving as she headed for the stairs of her second-floor apartment. Tommy took off and she slowly made her way up to the landing. Suddenly, a hand reached out and yanked on her purse, spinning her around. A man stepped from the shadows, towering over her. Scars lined his face and tattoos covered his bald head. He terrified her. Without thinking, she tried to yank her purse away, but the man raised his arm and punched her in the face.

Darkness immediately consumed her.

When she eventually roused, she discovered she was still lying outside since no one bothered to help. She groaned as pain engulfed her, tears springing into her eyes. What the hell had happened? Then it all came rushing back, and Macy looked around for her purse, seeing it lay only a few feet away. The contents were strewn all over. Her chest felt tight, restricting her breathing. Using the handrail to help herself up, she made her way to her possessions and collected them. Luckily, the asshat didn't take her rescue inhaler and she had to puff twice to ease the constriction in her lungs. Grabbing the rest of her stuff, she realized almost instantly that her money was gone. A sense of hopelessness settled in her soul. She worked damn hard for her money, and to have some asshole just take it almost made her cry.

Slowly, feeling like an old lady, she climbed the stairs to her apartment and let herself in. Feeling vulnerable, she pushed the coffee table in front of the door just in case. Her keys had been in her pocket, thank goodness, but she didn't feel safe. Hurrying into the bathroom, she flicked on the light and gasped as she saw her face. The man had punched her across her cheek, splitting the skin and bruising the entire area. Dried blood had coagulated around the wound. Tears sprung into her eyes, pulling her down into self-pity.

She found some acetaminophen and took it before stripping to shower. The hot water hit the cut on her cheek, making it sting. Afterward, she dried and put a bandage over it. All she wanted to do was sleep, and that's what she did, crying herself into slumber. Sometimes, life was too damn hard.