Trapped in his End Game (Series)

MARISA

The lights over my head give the illusion that it’s still daytime, but Dad’s office window-my office window, is black. The casino parking lot stretches out beneath me, the occasional sound of jets taking off and landing rattling the window.

What a long, crappy day.

Who knew that Dad left things in such a mess? I spent the whole day going through all those dummy corporations and canceling the payments to those accounts. I check my watch and it’s nearly eight; I’m already becoming my father. My hands still shake when I leave my office and lock the door. I wave goodbye to the people still working and head downstairs. The music in the casino pounds through my head until I can feel my brain swelling against my skull. When I leave the casino, my head snaps from side to side to look for anyone who might be waiting for me.

I can’t believe that actually happened.

It all seemed surreal. That Joe guy (whoever the fuck he was) was charming one minute and jumping down my throat the next. He tried to tell me how to run my own company. Who the fuck does he think he is? Obviously, he was behind some kind of huge scam going on right under my dad’s nose. It’s hard to believe, frankly. How could Dad spend so much time here and never pick up on all of it?

The crazy thing was I didn’t have a chance to talk about the whole incident to anyone at work. The police officer hauled him away and I filed a report, and then I went to the bathroom for fifteen minutes to cry in a stall. That look he gave me when he was dragged out of the office haunts me. His eyes looked dead.

I’ve never been threatened like that by anyone in my life, except Nathan, perhaps. The incident reminded me of all those times Nathan would lock me in my bedroom and corner me when I did something to upset him. My stomach clenches as I remember the horrible things he’d say to scare the living daylights out of me. And yet, I’m struggling with the desire to call him and talk about it.

I have no one else. Just him and Jessica.

Sure, I’ve friends, but they wouldn’t understand anything about what I’m dealing with right now.

I hurry to my car, suddenly shaky and nauseas. I unlock my Lexus and jam the keys in the ignition, heart hammering wildly.

You’ve just made a big fucking mistake. This isn’t over.

I wish I didn’t live alone. Maybe I should call Jessica and have her come over, just to feel a little less alone. I would call Nathan, but he currently hates my entire existence. He still thinks this was all my doing. As if. When have I ever done anything dishonest? I’ve only put up with him my entire goddamn life because I didn’t want to leave Jessica alone. Who would protect her if I was gone? Dad always left Nathan in charge when he left the house, and his bullying didn’t stop-even when he turned eighteen. She was too young and I just couldn’t leave, and even now she has no idea how ruthless he can be. I still feel scared for her. There were so many times when I just wanted to fuck off and cut ties with him, but Dad would get so upset.

Screw you, Nathan.

My stomach growls loudly as I pull into the parking garage under my apartment. I groan, thinking about my empty fridge, but I’m too freaking tired to go out anywhere. I think I’ll order in and zone out in front of Netflix to try and forget the horror of today. Tomorrow’s another day, and I’ll have to contact the police to investigate this mess. I push my keys in the door and unlock it, shoving it in. The door swings open to complete darkness and I shiver instantly.

I don’t want to go in. I’m still so fucking rattled from that nut, but I force myself in anyway, and I close and lock the door.

A swishing sound makes my heart jump. Is it a voice? I’m too afraid to turn on the light, because I’m scared it’ll reveal something I won’t want to see.

It’s nothing. You’re just jumpy tonight.

Yeah, I’m jumpy. I got attacked in my office. Attacked by a hot guy, and not in a good way. In a shit-your-pants, unpleasant kind of way.

There it is again, the unmistakable swish of fabric and then suddenly an arm wraps around my waist and pulls me into his chest. His other hand smothers my scream and a rough voice hisses in my ear.

“Hello, Ms. Toffoli.”

The smooth male voice is instantly recognizable. It’s him. Oh my God, how did he get here?

He’s here to kill me.

The light flares on before my mind gallops into full-blown panic. The light illuminates the giant foyer and three other men in suits. The callused hand covering my lips blocks my high-pitched scream. I’m trapped, pinned against Joe’s hard body as the oldest man approaches my upright, squirming body. He’s in his sixties and has a shock of white hair, and a gun rests on his hip.

Oh, God. Someone, please help me!

“Do you know who I am?”

He has a venerable voice, but it’s strong. The kind that ripens with age. I know from looking at him that screaming and struggling will be useless. There’s no pity in his eyes, just impatience. The men behind him look just as callous.

Joe’s hand uncovers my lips slowly and wraps around my neck gently. My heart pulses hard into his fingers. It’s strange to be touched like this. His hand moves to my shoulder and I blush hard when Joe’s lips brush over my ear. The sudden surge of warmth confuses the hell out of me.

“Answer him.”

Answer him, damn it.

“No, I don’t know you. I don’t know any of you.”

My eyes scan the man with the black-rimmed spectacles, the other one with thick, dark hair who looks at me with poison in his gaze. None of them look familiar.

“My name is Jack Vittorio and I’m the boss of the Vittorio Crime Family.”

Crime family?

I stare at him and my eyes flick from man to man. “What, like the mafia? Is this a joke?” My voice rises to the ceiling, echoing around us harshly.

“Do we look like we’re laughing?”

I feel like I’m in some absurd crime drama TV pilot. My eyes scan the men in front of me-yeah, they’re Italian, but this is New York City. We’re everywhere. There’s no such thing as the mafia anymore, is there? These guys must be joking. This must be some sick joke Nathan cooked up, or it’s a scheme to force me to embezzle money.

“Did my brother put you up to this?” I ask, looking at each of them in turn. “How much did he pay you?”

The man in the back, the one with a handsome smile, laughs. “Is she for real?”

Jack’s whole face darkens. “I don’t have time for this shit. You can google my name later. Your dad might have prepared you for your fucking job. He never explained anything about our arrangement, did he?”

“A-arrangement?”

“I tried to tell you,” Joe says in my ear. “You wouldn’t listen.”

I’m confused and I feel stifled in Joe’s suffocating grip. I shift my arms, but Joe’s arm pins them against my body in a vice grip. “There’s no need to hold me captive. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jack looks over my shoulder and nods, and his arms unwind from my body. I step away from him. The absence of his heat around me makes me tremble where I stand.

I look at Jack square in the face. “My dad never mentioned anything about you. His death was very sudden.” The air feels sharp; it cuts my lungs. “Listen, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“I just told you who I am.”

“I know.” My tongue darts out to moisten my lips. “That doesn’t mean I believe you.”

Impatience narrows Jack’s face even further and he steps forward. “Why don’t you shut up and just listen.”

I back up, acutely aware of the gun strapped to his waist and I back into Joe’s solid body. I bounce from his chest like he’s a brick wall.

“Your father and I had an arrangement. I use the casino to turn my cash into a legitimate business, and we skim a little off the top. That’s what all of those companies are for. In return, I help you cook the books and offer you protection.”

Cook the books? This snide bastard has no idea what he’s talking about. My hollow laughter rings in my apartment.

“My dad does not-didn’t falsify financial information about the casino. He’s not a criminal.”

The guys behind Jack laugh at me, the hallway echoes with their mirth. My body heats like a furnace.

Even Jack’s face lights up with a grin. “I’m sorry, hon, but he was. The Worlds Casino has been in the red for years now; why do you think your old man asked me for help?”

This must be a scam. I don’t buy it.

“In the red? That’s impossible! I’ve seen the financial statements!”

“Are you even listening to me? We cooked the books.”

I’m shattered.

If this is true, everything I’ve known was a lie. My dad misled shareholders. No wonder he was so stressed all the time.

“Then-then I’ll sell the company.”

“No, you won’t.” The old man’s face looks troubled, but the threat is implicit in his voice. “Or the man behind you will break your legs.”

I turn around and stare at Joe’s impassive face, and I feel a rush of corrosive hatred. His eyes meet mine and quickly look away.

“Joe’s going to be watching you for the next few months until we decide you’re trustworthy. Drop the fucking charges against him. I’ll let this one time slide because you didn’t know who we were, but now you do and there’s no excuse. The next time you call the cops on one of my associates, I’ll knock your fucking teeth out. I don’t care if you’re a woman.”

My chest feels uncomfortably tight. Somehow, the threat of violence against me scares me less than the reality of my company. “But how am I supposed to keep this up? What if I’m audited by the IRS? They’ll find out eventually.”Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Don’t worry about that. We have professionals to keep that from happening, and I’ll let you file for bankruptcy when I decide to pull out of the casino. If that ever happens.”

Jesus.

My whole life-my dream-it’s shattered at my feet. Jack Vittorio took a shotgun and blasted it into oblivion. I want nothing to do with this. Everything I’ve worked for was a sham. I don’t want it anymore. It’s toxic. They’re toxic.

“Are we clear about what needs to be done? Drop the charges against Joe and set up the accounts. If you don’t, we’ll go after your brother and sister first.”

I’m too shocked to take it in. There’s a hollow feeling in my chest that only gets worse as they stare at me. To my horror, I feel a lump rising in my throat. Oh, Jesus. I really don’t want to cry in front of these people.

“Fine. Whatever.”

He rolls his eyes at me as he motions to the guys in the back to leave.

“Chin up, kid. It’ll get easier,” he says as he breezes past me.

The man with spectacles moves past me without a word and another one gives me an apologetic smirk before leaving. I seem to stand there for ages, my eyeballs fixed somewhere at the end of the hallway. Then I turn around and Joe’s standing a foot away from me.

I yelp and jump backwards, clutching my chest as my heart beats painfully against my ribs. What the fuck is he still doing here? He looks at me with that same irritating, emotionless expression he carries around all the time. I want to slap him, to hurt him, to make him feel a tiny bit of the horror inside me.

“I’ll be there early tomorrow to help you.”

Bile rises in my throat. “Are you going to break my legs if I do something you don’t like?”

He takes a step forward and he towers over me. He must be at least six feet and I’m only 5’4″. Dark eyes blaze down at me. “Why, are you planning to do something stupid?” he asks in a toneless voice.

Fuck him and his indifference. If it weren’t for his eyes, I would think he was dead inside. “Fuck you.”

His eyes harden. “You’re not mad at me,” he says in a low voice. “You’re mad at your old man.”

I flinch from those words. Mad at my father? How could I be mad at a dead man?

“No, I’m definitely mad at you.”

I swing my arm before I can stop myself, aiming for his face. A loud smack echoes in the foyer as my palm rips across his stubbled cheek. His head whips to the side, his handsome face already blossoming with an angry, red mark. Joe reels his head back and looks at me with murder in his eyes. A slow, deadly smile spreads across his face.

What the fuck did you just do?

What an incredibly stupid thing to do to someone who has license to do whatever he wants with me if I don’t deliver on my promises. My breath hitches and I snatch back my hand, backing away.

He grabs my wrist and squeezes hard enough for me to yelp. “Do you just go around hitting people when you don’t have your way?”

My back hits the wall, but I refuse to be intimidated by this man. “Don’t you?”

The edge of his mouth lifts slightly into an involuntary smile.

“So you do feel human emotions. I was starting to wonder.”

Lord, Marisa. There’s a time and place for a smart mouth.

I know that I’m supposed to be scared of him, but I don’t feel on edge when I’m around him. His eyes are too passive, even if his body is not.

“You’re in denial,” he says suddenly, unaffected by my insult. “Jack will make good on his promise, believe me.”

It cuts me to my core. Yeah, maybe I’m a little in denial. I never knew the mafia existed until tonight-never knew that my dad was a crook. A fraud. He went into business with these sharks and then he died and dumped the mess onto me.

I’m allowed to be in denial.

“Maybe you’re in denial about your line of work.”

Joe lunges at me, grabbing my wrists as his body moves into mine. My back slams into the wall and I gasp from the pain, and then his lips crush against mine.

What?

I go limp against the wall, stunned. I expected him to hit me, for his fists to batter against my body. Instead, he’s kissing me.

Why?

I don’t care about why when his lips are against mine and the most intense heat I’ve ever felt passes through them into my face and neck. Jesus. Even his hands wrapped around my wrists feel like hot brands against my skin.

“What are you-?”

“Shut up.”

His ragged voice cuts me deep and makes me shiver all over, but at the same time I feel a ripple of anger. No one talks to me like that. Then he leans forward and takes my lips again, and I taste something sweet from his tongue, something like scotch. An unexpected thrill shoots up my abdomen as he plants stunning kiss after kiss on my mouth. I tremble as heat chases away the paralyzing cold in my body and I respond back without thinking, addicted to it. I sigh when his thumbs caress the sensitive skin over the inside of my wrists, a feeling that makes me arch against him.

God, I need this. I need to feel wanted by somebody. Even if it’s fake, I need to feel like someone cares about me.

His hands finally let go of my wrists and I gasp into his mouth as he traces my neck and shoulders. Then his face pulls back suddenly and we break apart, breathing heavily. He has his palm against my neck, and my vein throbs against his hand. He holds me against the wall, looking dazed. My whole body glows with warmth and my skin feels oddly sensitive. I want more of him. I’m flying high, and the small smile on his face brings me back down to Earth.

The fuck am I doing? He’s a monster.

He ruined my dream.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” I breathe in his face.

Still smiling, he gives my shoulder a squeeze and leaves out the open door.