BREAKING THE LAW_A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Page 6

  She snorted.

  “All of a sudden you’re worried about my safety?” she scowled. “Thanks for the tip.”

  She was gone before Draggan could respond.

  Making her way out of the FBI office, Andrea forsook the elevators, the pent-up anxiety in her blood needing to be worked off.

  All night she had paced around the apartment, debating what to do.

  She half-expected Marco to return, or for an agent to knock on her door and take her to safety. But neither thing had happened.

  Grabbing the burner phone that would connect her to Draggan, she had thought about calling him several times. But she just couldn’t understand why no one had reached out to her.

  A sea of confusion washed through her until the early light of dawn made one thing perfectly clear; the only person who had shown her an iota of concern was the man she feared was responsible for her cousin’s disappearance.

  Her consternation was replaced by a burning anger toward the FBI, and by the time the sun had fully risen, Andrea had stormed into Draggan’s office.

  Now I’m even more confused than before, she thought. How come they didn’t know that Marco Sardelli had come to my apartment last night? I thought the place was wired.

  It could mean only one of two things; either no one had been watching her the previous night…or she was not as wired as she thought.

  That’s ridiculous. What possible benefit could there be for throwing me in blind? It doesn’t help them in the least.

  She was getting a headache thinking about any of it.

  I need to go home and get some sleep. When I get up, I’ll figure out a new plan of attack, since hanging out at Il Toro obviously isn’t possible anymore.

  She couldn’t very well waltz back into the restaurant as if nothing had happened. It would look too suspicious.

  Hailing a cab down the street from the FBI building, she weighed her options.

  As far as she could tell, there was only one thing to do; have a nap, and then call Marco Sardelli.

  **********

  Of course, she couldn’t sleep when she returned to her apartment and she stalked around the small unit, toying with the business card.

  I’ve got to come up with a good story for calling. I can’t just play damsel in distress…can I?

  Andrea wondered why not. He had already saved her once, and it would give her the upper hand if he thought her weak.

  But there was something in his eyes which told her he didn’t respond well to vapid, ditzy women.

  And you don’t want to give him the impression that you’re hitting on him.

  She wasn’t naïve. She knew that there were going to be parts of the job which would push her various ‘limits’, but she didn’t want to encourage anything if she could avoid it.

  Imagine sleeping with my cousin’s killer.

  Andrea tried to muster a shiver of revulsion, but oddly, it didn’t come.

  Instead, she thought of what his piercing green eyes would feel like, boring into hers as he mounted her.

  What the hell is wrong with you? She yelled at herself. He’s handsome but he’s not that handsome!

  Then she had to wonder why she was lying to herself. The burning attraction she felt toward him was unmistakable – and accompanied by an equal amount of red-hot shame.

  If he was not the target of her investigation, she would be throwing her panties at him, guaranteed. And the idea worried her.

  Jesus Christ, Andy, keep your shit together. Find a booty call if you must but stay away from Marco Sardelli like that. You have no idea what he’s capable of.

  She wracked her brain for a story and cover to give him when she finally called.

  No sobbing, fall-to-pieces bullshit. You need something better, something –

  Suddenly, she had it.

  Without hesitation, she picked up the phone and dialed.

  To both her relief and chagrin, the call went directly to voicemail.

  “Leave a message.”

  Even the sound of his voice sent chills through her.

  It’s the Florence Nightingale Effect. He saved you and now you think you owe him something. But you don’t. He owes you something – your cousin.

  Andrea cleared her throat nervously.

  “Uh…hi, Mr. Sardelli,” she breathed, trying to still her shaky breaths. “This is Sofia Moran. You – I – we met last night…you…well, I’m the girl from Il Toro. I’m sorry to bother you but I was hoping you might be able to do me a favor. I – well, it’s…”

  She abruptly stopped talking, wondering if she was playing a part or actually acting like a jackass.

  No, I’m sincerely being an idiot. Spit it out!

  “If you could call me back, I would appreciate it.”

  She left the number to her undercover phone and hung up, tossing the cell aside as if it was contaminated.

  Pathetic. You better work on your speaking skills for when he calls back. If he calls back.

  But somehow she knew he would.

  After all, he had gone out of his way to find her and leave his card.

  Maybe he was worried she would go to the cops.

  The irony made her laugh aloud.

  There really never is a cop around when you need one, is there?

  Andrea knew there was nothing left to do but wait, and she settled onto the sofa, grabbing the remote control to flick on the small flat screen mounted on the wall.

  No sooner had she settled on a channel when the phone rang, causing her to jump.

  He’s calling. Christ. He’s calling back.

  Gulping back the stone in her throat, she accepted the call.

  “Hello?”

  Her voice escaped in a shadowy whisper.

  “Sofia?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Marco Sardelli. You left me a voicemail. Is everything okay?”

  Okay, she told herself with steely resolve. You’re on.

  “Oh, hi,” she said quickly. “Yes. Thanks for getting back to me.”

  There was an awkward pause as she tried to remember what she was going to say to lure him back again.

  “Are you okay?” he asked again, and there was an unmistakable note of concern in his voice. “Do you need something?”

  “I feel stupid calling you…”

  “Don’t.”

  “It’s just…I realized after everything that happened last night that…that I didn’t pay my tab at the bar and I don’t really want to go back there alone. I don’t know anyone in Miami or I would call them but…”

  Another long silence ensued.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Andrea tensed.

  This was a bad idea. You should have thought of something better. You should have –

  “You’re worried about your bar tab?”

  “I had a few drinks,” she insisted. “The bartender shouldn’t have to cover my bill. I’ll pay it, happily, I just don’t want to go by myself.”

  “Fuck your bar tab,” Marco growled. “The owner can afford to absorb it.”

  “I’d rather – “

  “No.”

  There was a finality in his voice and Andrea exhaled slowly.

  Well so much for getting him back here to take me.

  “What are you doing right now?”

  “Me?” Andrea choked. “Uh, nothing.”

  “Good. I’ll be there in half an hour. I’m taking you for dinner.”

  “Dinner?”

  “Not to Il Toro. Wear something nice.”

  The line went dead and Andrea stared open-mouthed at the phone in her hand for a long moment.

  Well that didn’t go quite as planned, she thought apprehensively. Now I have a date with a potential murderer. Wonderful.

  But as she ambled to her feet, Andrea could not deny the spark of excitement she was feeling about seeing Marco Sardelli again.

  I can’t reconcile that the man who burst into Il Toro last night is capable of harming
any woman. He didn’t have to save me. There was no reason for him to do that.

  Andrea was sure she had never been more confused in her life, as she had been in the past twenty-four hours.

  She had expected some level of grey when she entered the realm of undercover work but she was finding the reality much more complicated.

  Examining Sofia’s wardrobe in the bedroom closet, she suddenly remembered something.

  Is this place wired or not?

  She hurried back into the living room and stepped onto the arm of the sofa, reaching to pull out the smoke detector.

  There was no indication of a camera there, nor was there one in the cable box.

  She scoured through the unit, checking under lampshades and couches, looking in every corner she could find for any piece of surveillance equipment, but with each cupboard she opened, her chest constricted further.

  Nothing. There were no cameras, no listening devices. What was going on? Fear crept into her mind as she realized that the people who were supposed to keep her safe, didn’t care at all. Was she just that expendable? Or was there something else going on here?

  She had no answer.

  Slowly, Andrea retreated to the bedroom to select an outfit for her date as a disturbing realization washing through her.

  Sadly, at that point, she trusted Marco Sardelli more than she did the FBI.

  Chapter Seven

  Fuck, she’s beautiful. And so damn vulnerable. What am I doing here with her? I must be out of my fucking mind.

  Marco was sure he was.

  He had blown off a meeting with his soldiers that evening, a much-needed regrouping after what had happened with August.

  But when Sofia had called, the lonely note in her voice had been enough to make him drop everything.

  I used to want to do that for Mara too, he thought with chagrin.

  Marco knew it wasn’t fair to compare Sofia to Mara, that they were two completely different people.

  Yet there was something that seemed to connect them, some quality that seemed almost familiar to him.

  Maybe it’s because they both have some odd spell over you which you can’t seem to shake.

  “You’re looking at me weird,” Sofia told him nervously. “Is something wrong?”

  Marco shook his head quickly.

  “I’m just trying to figure you out,” he replied and she seemed to flinch at his words.

  “Figure me out? How? What do you mean?” she asked warily, reaching for her water. “There’s nothing to figure out. I’m just a normal girl from Virginia.”

  “Tell me about that,” Marco said, sitting back in his chair to fold his arms over his chest. “What brought you to Miami?”

  She stared at him for a moment and he realized she was trying just as hard to figure him out as he was her.

  I can’t really blame her for being suspicious.

  Sofia was saved from having to answer when the waiter brought their meals to the table.

  “You like osso bucco?” he asked as she reached for her fork. Sofia nodded eagerly.

  “Are you kidding?” she asked, her eyes brightening as she stared at her plate. “I live for meat.”

  She seemed embarrassed by the words as they tumbled out of her mouth and she glanced at him through her peripheral vision.

  “Uh, I mean…”

  “Hey, I’m Italian. I love a woman who appreciates food. Around here, all the women are worried about gaining an ounce. It’s refreshing to meet a woman who will order veal once in a while.”

  Their eyes met and Marco noted with some amusement that she blushed, despite her attempts to hide it behind the hair falling over the side of her face.

  “So?” he asked as she took a mouthful of her food.

  “It’s really good,” she replied nodding, but Marco chuckled.

  “No, that’s not what I meant.”

  Her innocent eyes met his questioningly.

  “What?” she asked.

  “What brings you to Miami?”

  Sofia continued to chew and Marco wondered if she wasn’t stalling for time on her answer, but he didn’t push.

  “Adventure,” she answered finally and he laughed.

  “I see. How’s that working out for you?”

  She eyed him appreciatively, a spark of amusement lighting up her eyes as she reached for her glass of wine.

  “I’m still here,” she replied. The answer was meant to be lighthearted but he could detect a note of gratitude in her voice.

  He leaned forward, his eyes locking on hers and she didn’t look away.

  “That guy is being dealt with,” he told her in a low voice. “You don’t have to worry about him again.”

  Something flashed in her eyes and for a second, Marco wondered if she had ever really been worried about August in the first place.

  Sure, she had been scared, but when he found her, she wasn’t crying or acting hysterical.

  I wonder if she could have taken him.

  It seemed far fetched, given her slender frame, but as he continued to study her face, he felt like the woman sitting before him might have the capacity to take care of herself.

  Sofia cleared her throat and turned her attention back to her plate.

  “What do you do, Marco?” she asked, scooping another forkful of pasta into her mouth.

  “I’m in consulting,” he answered automatically.

  Her dark eyebrows raised with curiosity.

  “What kind of consulting?”

  Under normal circumstances, he would be wary of her questions. His experience in the family and his genetic make-up ingrained suspicion and caution with strangers.

  But it was different with Sofia. He had sought her out, after all.

  “Business,” he replied, hoping she wouldn’t push him for more details.

  She didn’t.

  “How about you? Are you working? In school?”

  Sofia chuckled.

  “How old do you think I am?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “School was a while ago for me.”

  “Oh? Are you an old woman of twenty-five?” he chuckled but he found himself curious about her response.

  She smiled enigmatically.

  “Something like that.”

  They ate in silence for a moment but there was nothing uncomfortable about the quiet between them.

  No, Marco thought. I’m wrong about her. There is nothing about her which reminds me of Mara. I don’t know why I thought there was.

  He wiped his mouth, determined not to think about his former lover again for the rest of the night.

  After all, he had a much better place to focus his attention that evening.

  ********************

  Sofia reached for her keys and toyed with them in her hand, casting Marco a shy look as they stood in the hallway in front of her apartment.

  “Thanks for dinner,” she said, sweeping her hand through her shoulder length hair. “I – it was really good.”

  Marco shrugged, leaning a hand against the wall.

  “That’s not the greatest restaurant. If I had known you liked osso, I would have taken you to Il Gabbiano. Next time, okay?”

  Again, her cheeks flushed an endearing pink and she grinned.

  “Next time?” she asked shyly. “Is there going to be a next time?”

  Marco dropped his arm, his face turning serious.

  “That’s up to you,” he replied quietly. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you again, showing you around town.”

  He didn’t add that he felt responsible for her safety or that the attraction he felt toward her was mounting with each look they shared.

  The last thing I want to do is scare her off, not after what she’s been through.

  They stared at each other and Marco felt a rush of blood flow through him but he willed himself not to act.

  Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what her luscious mouth tasted like.

  The way she keeps biting on her lower lip is making m
e hard.

  He knew she wasn’t trying to be coy, that she just had a natural innocence about her. And that was precisely what drove even more heat to his crotch.

  Marco stifled a groan.

  I gotta get out of here before I do something that freaks her out, he thought, ripping his eyes away from her face. But before he could move, she did.

  He hadn’t expected her sudden motion, his back landing against the wall he had been leaning on as Sofia pressed her mouth to his, her body extended onto the balls of her feet.

  She had seemed much taller to him but in that moment, as she pushed her lithe form against his broad chest, she was a waif.

  A part of him thought of resisting her, worried that maybe she felt like she owed him something. But as the passion between them ignited, and a small moan escaped her throat, he realized that she was acting completely of her own volition.

  Marco’s strong hands fell onto the small of her back, pulling Sofia’s frame closer and she sighed as her legs scissor-crossed into his.

  Their tongues clashed, his mouth covering hers, nipping at the fullness of her lips.

  She tasted like wine and mint, the combination only fuelling his arousal.

  Her palms slid around the back of her own body, covering his hands that had covered the globes of her ass. She pushed his down, the hem of her skirt catching along his fingers.

  “Fuck, you drive me crazy,” he murmured, her eyes locked onto his at the comment. Then she pulled him away from the wall and urged him back toward the stairwell, her lips still locked on his.

  At least she knows what she wants, he thought, mildly impressed. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it as they crashed through the exit door and he leaned backward onto the stairs.

  His hands cupped her rear as she straddled him, her eyes still fixed on his.

  Her hips began to grind against his pants and Marco felt a burst of heat surge toward his engorged shaft, her fingers lacing around his neck to bunch in his hair as his mouth glided along the line of her throat.

  Marco grunted slightly, his lips meeting the sweetness of her skin, inhaling the scent of her perfume and he bucked upward as she fumbled for his buckle.

  Lower his mouth traveled, meeting the swell of her full breasts against the low neckline of her sequined dress.