His Target: A Dark Mafia Romance Page 9

  I have a few bags hooked over my arms with regular clothes in them already. I found cute stuff, things that I imagine Zeno will like. I want to look pretty, not just for him, but for myself. I never had the chance to look nice before.

  I step into the lingerie store, breathing in the fresh scent of perfume and cotton.

  A woman shuffles up to me immediately, her long pink fingernails folding over her hands as she clasps them together and smiles at me. “Is there anything I can help you find?” she asks.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “I’ve never been here before.”

  “Well, we should have plenty of things in your size. Is there a particular look you were going for?” she asks. “Casual, fancy, maybe something for date night?”

  “Something cute,” I say. I don’t care what I end up getting, just as long as I look nice in it.

  “Our winter line is in, and it’s to die for,” she says. Her teeth are impossibly white, even in the dimness of the store. “With your complexion, the blue sapphire or emerald would pair perfectly. Any jewel tones, really.”

  “Sure,” I reply. “Whatever works.”

  She hurries to the side of the store and runs her fingernails lightly over a mannequin in see-through blue lace. “This one might fit you. What do you think?”

  I come toward her, trying not to knock over anything with my bags. “Um, it’s see-through, right?”

  “If you’d prefer something more modest, you could also try this,” she says, moving over to another mannequin in a green bra and panty set. This one is certainly more conservative, but not nearly as exciting as the one we just looked at.

  I’m feeling daring. It will be my choice if Zeno ever sees me in any of these. Why not go all the way and treat myself to something sexy? Cute is fine but sexy is something that would make me feel really special, and I’ve never felt special before.

  “I’ll go with the first one,” I say, unable to keep my eyes off it.

  “Perfect, and what size do you wear?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  She looks me up and down, her expression analytical. “I think I can tell, but I’d like you to try on the bra to be sure.”

  “Okay,” I reply, standing awkwardly as she rushes into the backroom to retrieve the lingerie.

  I’m enjoying being treated like an average person, even though I’m still dressed in Zeno’s clothes. Nobody is watching me like I’m going to steal something, or clamping their nose shut when they walk past me. I feel relief more than anything.

  I stand in the same spot until the woman comes out again, waving at me to come to the dressing room. She hands me five different bras, all in different colors and slightly different styles. “You should try these on too if you like the first one. They’re similar.”

  “Thank you,” I reply softly, taking them and stepping into the dressing room.

  I close the thick black curtain, moving it a few times until there’s no way anyone could see inside. It hasn’t been that long since I’ve been off the streets, and I’m still obsessed with privacy.

  I turn to the mirror as I pull the green sweater over my head. My breasts fall out in front of me. My nipples are so pale that they’d probably be invisible under the see-through lace anyway. I shouldn’t be so worried.

  It takes me a moment to get the bra on, but once I see myself in it, I have to buy it. I look like a different person, so mature, and dare I say sexy? I’m no longer looking at Alexia, the homeless young woman with no name. I’m Alexia, the confident, sexy woman who has a man waiting for her in the car outside.

  My cheeks heat up, but not from embarrassment or even arousal. My throat tightens as tears come to my eyes. I’m choked up about looking halfway decent, emotions spilling out as I look at a woman I hardly recognize in the mirror. I’ve never thought of myself as pretty, but I feel pretty now.

  I wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand, trying to collect myself so that I don’t end up sobbing and having that woman with the bright white teeth come in to check on me. Then, I’d really be embarrassed.

  I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly through pursed lips.

  Okay, I’m good now. I can finish this shopping trip and get back to Zeno.

  I’m excited to wear my new clothes for him. He should get to see what he paid for.

  I go through the rest of the bras quickly, opting to purchase all of them. The woman upsells me a bottle of sweet-smelling perfume, which I accept.

  I still have most of Zeno’s money in my hand as I walk out of the mall, dressed in my new clothes.

  In the mall bathroom, I changed into a white jumper that shows a shocking amount of my pale thighs. I never wear white for fear of getting it dirty, but I’m no longer sleeping on the ground. I can afford to take risks.

  Zeno is outside when I spot him, smoking the rest of his cigar and leaning against the car. He looks elegant this way, serious and confident, deep but carefree. I hope he thinks agreeable things about me too when he sees me dressed in my new clothes.

  He jolts upright when I come into his view, his dark eyes widening as they sweep me from head to toe several times. I can’t suppress the color rising to my cheeks yet again at his reaction. I want to cry again.

  I gulp down my emotions as I walk up to him.

  “You look amazing,” he says, clearly blown away.

  I never imagined having this effect on a man. It does wonders for my confidence.

  I smile at him. “You made it possible. I have to thank you again for all of this.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” he purrs, and I feel that he means it.

  I shudder like a ghost has passed through me, but I don’t believe in such things. The ghost that I feel is the powerful energy that Zeno is giving off as his eyes continue to examine me. I almost feel like he can see my underwear through my jumper, though I checked a dozen times to make sure the fabric was thick enough.

  “Ready to go?” I ask.

  He stiffens. “Yes, of course. Did you get everything you needed?”

  “Yes,” I reply, walking around the car with my bags.

  He rushes after me, opening the back door and placing my bags inside. His eyes linger on the pink bag of lingerie, and I feel my heart skip a beat. He doesn’t say anything, but I imagine he’s picturing what I bought. I wonder if he’d like to see me in it.

  The fire in me is hotter than ever as I settle into my seat. I think my shower this evening is going to be a lot longer than the one last night. I have to bring myself down to earth, and the strong stream of water between my legs is a wonderful solution for my unrelenting horniness.

  “Do you like movies?” Zeno asks once we’re on the road again. We’re heading to the grocery store to get food for the next few days.

  “At the orphanage, we watched the same couple of Christmas movies for years, even if it was the middle of summer,” I explain. “As long as it isn’t a holiday flick, I’m down for it.”

  “What about action? Or romance,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

  “Never seen either of those,” I admit.

  “Damn, maybe we should have a marathon,” he says. “Movies and ice cream.”

  Honestly, anything with him would be a good time. We could be staring at a blank TV, and I’d still spend the entire night on the couch with him.

  I take my hands out from between my thighs for the umpteenth time. I’ll need to glue them to my sides at this point. “Anything is good,” I say.

  Zeno turns his head, looking me over again. He’s been doing that a lot since I got into the car. Inevitably, his eyes land in my lap, gazing at the distinct V of the white fabric pulled tightly between my legs.

  It’s impossible to hide the outline. I should’ve gotten a larger size, but it’s too late for regrets now. I’ll just have to accept that I’m wearing something that draws in the male gaze. I’m not ashamed.

  I look at Zeno’s lap in return for his stare, noticing the bulge th
at has grown there. It gets bigger every time I see it, threatening to tear out of his pants if it doesn’t stop growing. I know he’s turned on by me. I wonder what it would be like to give in to our primal desires.

  But I barely know him. On top of that, he’s way older than me. Thirdly, I shouldn’t let a man into my life just because he’s nice to me. I’m still emotionally vulnerable, and I’ll probably end up getting hurt. I need to be careful with Zeno.

  I press my knees together so hard that they ache, but I can’t dull the rush I feel between my legs. My pussy is begging for Zeno’s touch. I keep thinking how amazing it would feel for his hand to be there, rubbing me as the smokey scent of his breath comes down on my neck.

  Okay, I need to stop this right now. We’re pulling into the grocery store parking lot, and I’m not going to be able to hide a wet spot should it form in the white fabric between my legs.

  My mind is all over the place, thinking up impossible situations in which Zeno dominates me, pinning me into the couch during the movie and sliding into me from behind.

  Enough!

  I take a sharp breath in and let it out, repeating it several more times as Zeno parks the car.

  “Are you alright?” he asks, frowning at me.

  “Totally fine,” I reply, having the force the words out. At this point, I’m lying more than he is.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Zeno

  I’m going to fuck this up so badly that Boris is going to personally come to my house and strangle me to death. I know that because Alexia keeps bending over in that ridiculously short jumper and giving me a full show of the outline of her perfect pussy in the fucking grocery store.

  My teeth are clenched so tightly that they hurt, but that’s nothing compared to the ache of my cock struggling to get out of my pants. It’s painful to have an erection so strong in a pair of stiff slacks. They’re not designed to stretch like this.

  I keep reminding myself to be patient, but it’s nearly impossible with how amazing Alexia looks right now. I want to say that she’s doing it on purpose, that she wants me to tear her cute white jumper off and pound her hard, but I’m not taking any chances. There’s fifty-million dollars on the line.

  A cold shower should fix the problem, but I won’t get around to that until we’re back at the shoddy three-story crack house with our groceries. By then, Alexia will be hungry again, and we’ll be making dinner. I won’t have time for a shower until afterward.

  My personal phone buzzes in my pocket, taking my mind off Alexia as she leans over in the ice cream freezer, digging around for another flavor to enjoy tonight.

  Who could be calling me at a time like this? It certainly isn’t Boris because he only has my burner phone number.

  I slip the phone out of my pocket and take a step back from Alexia as I answer the call. The phone number isn’t one I recognize, and I assume it’s spam, but you can never be too sure. I get calls from fresh phones from time to time, and they’re often important.

  “Hello,” I say, waving at Alexia to continue shopping as she looks back at me.

  She buries her head back into the freezer.

  “Hello, this is Igor, your friend from the bagel shop,” a thick Russian voice says through the phone.

  “How did you get this number?” I snap, looking around me instinctually for a threat. My heart pounds in my chest. Boris couldn’t have given this number to him because he doesn’t know it. What the hell is going on?

  “I have connections,” he replies smugly.

  “Boris doesn’t have my number,” I growl. “How did you get it?”

  “Boris? You know him?” Igor asks, his gelatinous brain working hard to find the connection.

  I scoff, turning away from Alexia and speaking in a near whisper. “We’re part of the same mafia, you dunce.”

  He laughs loudly from his belly. “Oh, my friend, why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”

  My shoulders loosen. “I didn’t know until I spoke with Boris. He said he’d have a talk with you.”

  “Oh, he called me, but I was busy taking a piss.”

  “Lovely,” I reply.

  “I guess I should tell Max not to blow your head off then,” Igor says.

  I stiffen up again, sharply aware of my surroundings again. “Are you following me?” I growl.

  “Max is,” he replies.

  I spin around, scanning the innocent shoppers for a sign of the obvious mafia goon coming after me. I don’t see anyone.

  “Where is he?” I hiss.

  “In the parking lot, last time I checked,” Igor replies casually.

  “Are you kidding me? Tell him to call off the hit, unless he wants to be the one with his brains blown out.”

  “Alright, chill,” Boris says. “I’ll send him a message.”

  I hang up the phone and grab Alexia by her thin arm, yanking her away from the shopping cart. “Do you want to look at some of the bread or something?” I ask.

  “Ouch, what are you doing?” she cries as I drag her through a group of shoppers.

  I’m attracting more attention than I want, so I let her go. “Listen, could you just get some bread in the back. I’ll take care of the cart.”

  “Zeno, you’re acting weird again,” Alecia says, crossing her arms at me and pouting.

  “Just trying to speed this up,” I reply with a crooked smile.

  “Bullshit. Are you being chased again?”

  “Not exactly,” I reply.

  “You are.”

  I scoff. “Just go get some bread, please. It’s in the back.”

  She shakes her head, stepping past me. “The bread is in the front of the store.”

  I grab her arm again before she can go any further. “Go to the back then, for something… anything.”

  She struggles against my grip, but she’s not going anywhere without my permission. I overpower her easily.

  “This isn’t a game, Alexia. I’m serious,” I say, glaring at her with such ferocity that she shrinks immediately.

  “I’m not going to let you go get killed. I don’t know what weird shit you’re involved with, but I want it to stop,” she says, glaring back at me.

  Her attitude surprises me, indicating a deeper connection than I had thought. It’s sweet, but I have business to take care of. I won’t let Boris’s idiots mess up my mission. They’re making it difficult as is, and I’ve already had to admit more than I care for Alexia to know because of their mistakes.

  “Go to the back, and I’ll be with you in a moment. I just need to check if those weirdos from the bagel shop are still following us,” I explain. “It’s nothing new.”

  “So, you are still being chased. Don’t lie to me,” she says.

  “It’s complicated, but I’ll explain it later. Okay?”

  “Fine,” she snaps, pulling away from me again. I let her go, and she storms off to the back of the store.

  I’d rather her be mad at me than to become a victim of mafia violence. She has no idea how dangerous things can get, especially when someone has their sights on me. I’m in danger because of someone’s incompetence, and mistakes could easily lead to her following me to the grave.

  I sigh, pulling out my phone again and calling Igor back as I cautiously walk to the front of the store. I know I’ll be able to smell the thick, musky scent of Max before I see him, but I want to be vigilant in case he’s trained with a rifle. I know firsthand how easy it is to pick someone off, even if they’re inside a building.

  Boris answers his phone almost immediately. “Good, sir. Everything is good. Max was already heading back to the headquarters because Boris called him.”

  “So, he’s not here anymore?” I ask, double-checking as I peer around one of the aisles toward the sliding glass doors at the front.

  “No, he’s gone. I’m sorry about that. I wouldn’t have sent him had you just told us before.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, if I knew I would’ve told you,” I say, combining
my words with a sigh. “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye,” he parrots.

  “Wait,” I blurt before he can hang up. “How did you get my number? You never told me.”

  Igor chuckles. “Your license plate is registered to the state of California. Your number is on file.”

  “Not publicly,” I say, hoping that he got it some other way.

  “No, no, I have friends there. Easy, sleazy, and kaboom! I have your phone number.”

  I sigh. “Alright, it looks like I have to change it then. Thank you.”

  “Any time.”

  I hang up the phone and return it to my pocket.

  Normally, I wouldn’t ever encounter other mafia gangsters or get wrapped up mafia drama. I’m the type of guy who lays low, doesn’t talk to many people, and does their work without raising eyebrows. Sure, there’s always the risk that I piss someone off, but that’s rare now with who my victims are, and what’s more, nobody ever knows who I am.

  But that doesn’t stop more people from trying to kill me.

  A bag of flour beside me explodes in an incredible display of white smoke, and I’m suddenly aware that I’m not so safe at the front of the store as I thought I was. Either Igor was lying about Max, or I have a larger problem at hand.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alexia

  Screams and gunshots at the front of the grocery store tell me what I didn’t want to know. Zeno is involved in some heavy shit, and I’m in big trouble for being around him. It’s probably time that I split, and that’s a damn shame because I was really starting to like him.

  I stay low as people rush like a tidal wave through the store, swarming the rear exits and pooling out into the street behind the store. I want to find Zeno before I go, if not just to make sure that he’s not dead before I get the hell out of here.

  I move against the flow of people, bobbing and weaving through them, trying not to get knocked over and trampled. I can see fear and panic on their faces. Their eyes are wide, and their eyebrows are arched back in distress. Some of their mouths are open in silent screams, while others are shrieking their lungs out.