DeLuca (Mafia Romance)

9



Carlo

What was I thinking?

I paced the hotel suite while I berated myself. I had been fucking some whore while Mia was being attacked in the same goddamn hotel! Never again. I would never fail her again, she could have been killed. My stomach rolled. He laid his hands on her, and he fucking forced himself on her. Damn it! I had to calm down, Mia was in the bathroom getting cleaned up and I had to pull myself together before she came back out.

My head was so messed up. I never made personal connections. If someone messed up or lost their usefulness they would be put down, simple. That’s how my life had been before Mia came along, simple. An obstacle presented itself and I overcame it by any means necessary. There was no room for anything other than rational thought. A simple way of life, weigh the pros and cons and execute. Now all my thoughts were muddled by the feelings I was having for this girl. I wanted to protect her and make her happy and I had no clue how to do it or why I even wanted to in the first place.

The only person I had ever cared about before was my mother and she died a long time ago. I couldn’t save her so what made me think I could save Mia? The attraction to Mia that plagued me earlier seemed inconsequential now in light of the night’s events.

What a difference a day could make.

I heard the bathroom door open in the other room and the padding of her feet as she came into the living area. My back was to the bedroom door, I didn’t think I could look at her swollen face right now without going into another fit of rage. I had already smashed one of the lamps and knocked over the side table, I was acting like a child throwing a tantrum.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Carlo?” she called, her voice was soft but not broken, like she was being gentle for my sake. “Look at me, please?” I still didn’t turn around. “Are you mad at me?” she tried again, that got me to turn around.

“What? God no, Mia. Why would you think that?”

“You told me to be careful and I was anything but. I drank too much and let those guys hang out with us. I know it was stupid. I mean I knew I was being stupid, the warning bells were there but I just wanted to let loose and not worry about anything for one night.”

I moved quickly to where she stood at the threshold of the bedroom and took her in my arms, resting my head on top of hers. “Stop it, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m pissed at Angelo and I’m furious at the situation but not you, never you, sweetheart,” I kissed the top of her head and squeezed her harder, I didn’t want to let her go. “Come on, you need to get some rest.” I led her into the bedroom and tucked her into the bed. I kissed her head again and turned to click off the side lamp.

“Where’s Gina?” Mia asked in a sleepy voice.

“Gina is fine, just drunk. She’s sleeping it off in your room. This is my apartment,” I replied.

“Oh,” Mia whispered and something seemed off about her voice, “Hey Carlo?”

“Yes?”

“Will you stay with me?”

“I am, I have to wake you up every couple of hours because of the concussion, remember?”

“No,” she let out a breath and started again, her voice just barely above a whisper. “Could you, just, could you just hold me. Please? Just for tonight, I don’t want to be alone.”

My heart stopped, then started thumping double time in my chest. “Of course,” I climbed onto the bed from the other side, careful to stay on top of the covers, and wrapped my arms around her again. She rested her head on my chest and it just felt right. I had never done this with anyone, never just held someone like this. Normally I would have considered it way to intimate an act but with Mia it seemed completely natural.

Just as I was about to fall asleep she spoke, her words muffled against my chest. “Thank you,” she said. I didn’t have to ask her what for, her tone told me it wasn’t just one thing. I understood.

I gave her a small squeeze, “You’re welcome, love.”

Mia

The weeks following the attack at the club flew by. Gina ended up staying an extra week and we took full advantage of the pool and the early summer sun. It was about all we could do while I healed. It’s not like we could go out in public while I had yellow and green bruises all over my face. The only change in my routine were my self-defense lessons with Angelo every morning.

Carlo had been reluctant when I first brought it up. It took two straight days of bargaining on my part but I eventually convinced him. He only had two conditions; the first that my lessons would be held at the house by Angelo and the second was that I could never complain about spending his money again. The latter had been tough on me, but I begrudgingly conceded.

The first week of training had been brutal. I had experience with taking a hit, but day after day of being hit, tossed, flipped, and choked was something else entirely. Angelo was careful to use just enough force to get the picture across without truly injuring me but my body was still incredibly sore and bruised. I had thought he would teach me how to get out of holds and enough moves to give me time to get away like the defense classes I had seen on TV or the short lessons they taught in PE at school. Boy was I wrong. Angelo was training me the same way he would train one of his men, and he was relentless.

“Again!” Angelo shouted as he stood over me. I was flat on my back on the grass in the side yard where we had taken to practicing. Angelo had just flipped me over his shoulder from a chokehold I had him in.

“Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me how to flip you?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.

“You have to learn to recover quickly, what if they throw you to the ground? You have to learn how to fall, learn how to recuperate and strike before they have a chance to attack you on the ground.”

“I need a water break before you start tossing me around again,” I said. I had to keep reminding myself this was my idea, I had asked for it and he was giving it to me. I got up from the grass as quickly as my sore muscles would allow. I stretched my arms above my head in an attempt to loosen my stiff muscles. I was wearing a black racer back tank and Lycra capris workout pants so I could move around easily without the constraints of regular clothes.

I walked a few yards over to where I had left my sweatshirt and water bottle. “Ugh, my muscles are so tight I don’t know if I can keep doing this today,” I said in between gulps of water. I could tell my face was flushed from exertion and sweat ran down my back. We had been at this for hours already and the summer heat was starting to get to me.


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