Mafia King: A Mafia Royals Novella, Rachel Dyken [i am malala young readers edition .txt] 📗

a.m,” came Tank’s annoyed voice.

Or ten in the morning…whoops.

“I don’t own a watch.” I shrugged.

“What’s that on your left wrist, then?”

“Oh, that?” I shrugged. “It’s an Apple watch used strictly for heart rate and exercise purposes.”

“Exercise to you is opening your mouth and closing it, Tiny.” He made it farther into the room, and I tried…I really did. I tried not to check him out.

Not to stare at his golden skin.

His bulging biceps beneath his plain black t-shirt.

The new ink poking out from the V of that same shirt.

Would he get the Abandonato crest like the rest of the Family?

I shivered.

He would look so hot with it across his chest.

Our crest.

Mine.

I shifted my eyes away too slowly, and he caught them with his green-eyed gaze before he licked his full lips like he saw something else he wanted to lick.

He always looked at me that way—with both annoyance and need.

And I never knew how to take it.

On one hand, I wanted to believe the need trumped any annoyance he felt for me, but I knew how he saw me.

As a spoiled brat with a silver spoon stuck up her ass.

And even worse now that I was older.

Now that I was…different.

“You added more blue.” He jutted his chin toward me and sat down on the chair across from the sofa I was lying on.

“Yup.” I examined my black nail polish. “I felt like it wasn’t making a strong enough statement.”

He snorted out a laugh. “And what sort of statement were you going for? Gothic chic?”

“What?” I glared at him. “You don’t like it.”

“It’s not you.”

Disappointment threatened to choke me, and shame crawled up my neck by way of a harsh red flush. “You don’t know me.”

“I did.” He locked eyes with me. “Or I thought I did.”

“People change, Tank.”

“Not that dramatically.” He saw too much. I needed to pester him, to get him to verbally spar or maybe just spar in general.

I shot to my feet. “Wanna fight?”

He groaned into his hands, his golden-brown hair falling forward over his forehead. “You ask this every week, and every week what do I tell you?”

“Ummm, no. You say ‘no,’ even though you know I can hold my own. I’m an Abandonato, so…” I walked right up to where he was sitting and kicked him in the shin.

“Son of a bitch, Tiny!” He roared in pain. “Why?”

I laughed. “Because you were being a pussy.”

He glared. “Why are you like this?”

“Why are you?”

“What?”

“So…” I leaned down and whispered, “Weak.”

That did it.

A barely controlled rage burned behind his green gaze as he jumped to his feet and picked me up like I weighed nothing, then tossed me over his shoulder and stomped toward the weight room.

I could barely contain my triumphant grin—until he bypassed the weight room and shoved me into my room, then started to close the door after tossing me onto my bed.

“Oh, hell no.” I bolted after him just as the door caught my foot.

He glared. “Naptime, princess.”

“You bastard!” I roared, clawing at his arm.

He shoved me back again, as gently as he probably could.

So, I jumped around onto his back.

He let out a roar and threw me back onto the bed, pinning my body beneath his as his chest heaved in exertion. “You drew blood.”

“Where?” I laughed.

“My neck. And you’re insane. You know that, right?”

I located the blood and very slowly lifted my head until my lips pressed against his neck. “There…” They vibrated against his skin. “All better.”

He cursed under his breath. “We need ground rules.”

“For?” I leaned back as he pulled his hands away.

“This.” He growled. “No kissing me. No touching me. No annoying the hell out of me. Your dad put your safety in my hands for the wedding.”

I let out a huff of embarrassment. “And why can’t I touch you? Does it make you uncomfortable?” I trailed a finger from his neck down to the V of his shirt then gave it a small tug. “Hmmm?”

His lips parted as his expression shuddered, kicking me out of whatever emotions he refused to share with me. “Don’t push me, Tiny. Not right now.”

“See, I think that’s exactly what you need, Tank…to let me shove you right off that cliff into oblivion. Think how good it would feel.”

He jerked away from me. “Yes, and then decapitation by way of your father, all in the name of you having a bit of fun with my life. No, thank you.” He growled. “We leave Friday morning. Get your shit packed.”

“Already am.” I shrugged. It was a first, considering I’d never packed a week before anything—I was that excited.

“You?”

I nodded toward my Louis Vuitton luggage.

“I’m almost afraid to ask what you packed for the Mexico trip,” he admitted, which earned a laugh out of me.

“Oh, Tank, it’s a surprise.”

“Was afraid you were going to say that,” he grumbled and then shot me a glare. “Promise me you at least brought…underwear of some sort.”

I fluttered my eyelashes. “Why are you suddenly so concerned with my underwear?”

He clenched his teeth, his jaw ticking with annoyance. “Because it’s my job to make sure you don’t end up pregnant at eighteen, and flashing men your goods just to piss me off sounds like the sort of thing you’d call ‘fun.’”

“Cute air quotes.” I laughed. “And I guess you’ll find out.”

“Another sleepless night, how wonderful,” he grumbled.

“Dream of me, old man.”

His answer was a middle finger as he walked out of my room and slammed the door.

Of course, he didn’t see how my smile fell.

Or how I suddenly felt as empty on the inside as my room felt without him in it.

Why him of all people?

I was happy when he was near.

And then, when he was gone, I had this longing, and it pissed me off that somehow Tank was connected to it.

Then again, he’d always been connected.

I kicked my suitcase and then flopped back onto the bed.

Mexico.

With Tank as my babysitter.

Which meant he was forced to be in my presence—didn’t choose to be.

It also meant I only had