Cosa Nostra: A Steamy Mafia Romance (Kids of The District Book 3), Nicci Harris [read a book txt] 📗

He straightens further. "Nothing. Just. . ."

"Oh fuck, please don't hold back now, you ugly bastard. Spill."

"You should ask her to move in, Max," he says, sounding more like my father than my employee and I both dislike and like that familiarity. "Not tell her."

Carter has been working for us for over fifteen years. He is a few years younger than Butch and has proven himself to be loyal beyond his contract. Beyond what we could have imagined. I turn my back to him and open the fridge door, pulling out an orange juice. "I don't need to ask."

I hear him shuffle his feet with apprehension. "In this case, you should anyway."

When I spin back, I'm met with a glint of nervousness. "I should, should I? Are you in love, Carter?"

His teeth flash as he laughs. "Good thing I'm ugly."

"Yeah." I grin at him because. . . who can't she charm? "Good thi-"

Suddenly, I hear the sound of voices - Butch's and someone else's. Usually, I don't care to involve myself in Butch's business, but in this case, the other voice has piqued my interest. Putting my glass down on the island bench, I stride past Carter and head down the hallway towards Butch's office.

"I thought you would protect my daughter. After everything I have done for you-"

With that, I push open the doors to the office, making my presence known. Ben Slater and Butch both look over at me, neither overly taken back by my attendance. Which in itself seems far too forced. Butch shifts his weight slightly - a gesture that on any other man would seem like unease. He taught us boys from a young age to be the impartial man in the room. To keep others guessing as to our intentions. As to our interests. Never show anyone what affects us. At times, I am good at this. When it comes to Cassidy though, less so.

Whereas I'm half-dressed, both men are in tailored dark suits. That doesn't faze me at all. I didn't even know Butch was here. And Ben isn't powerful in a suit. He isn’t powerful at all.

"You discuss Cassidy with me. Not Butch," I state, growing further irritated that Cassidy's father came over here but clearly didn't respect me enough to address his issues with me. I cross my arms over my chest and wait for him to do just that - discuss Cassidy.

Butch leans on his desk casually. "Ben is sharing his concern for Cassidy's wellbeing."

I stiffen, but despite my annoyance, I try to keep my voice level. "Cassidy's wellbeing is my business."

Ben Slater is a lean man with an aura of wholesomeness that I couldn't feign even if I wanted to. I highly doubt Ben Slater finger fucks his wife at dinner, surrounded by some of the richest, most autocratic pricks in the District. He'd be an in-the-bedroom-missionary-style man, for sure. Everything about Ben is hopeful and gentle and boring. From his unguarded generous hazel eyes to his open stance and neat appearance. He is anything but the impartial man in this room.

He smiles sadly at me. "How did she hurt her arm?"

Her arm. That fucking slice. My hands twitch, but I try to keep my face straight. "She was attacked. Nothing like that will ever happen again. I have taken care of it."

I narrow my eyes at them as they share a glance, the non-verbal exchange rather odd. Filled with meaning. Secrets. I don't like it. Why Butch is even entertaining this conversation is beyond me. Not that I know all of his dealings. Or want to. But still-

"She's my daughter, Max. I love her very much. I just want her to be safe," he states, openly expressing his affections like the sentimental man he is known to be. Of course he loves his daughter. She's his daughter.

His daughter.

That dull ache moves through my chest again at the thought of having a daughter. At having a son. At either of them getting hurt. He has every right to be worried. This is his business, goddamn-it. Fuck. I'd be hunting down the bastard who cut my little girl. I'd be burning houses to the ground indiscriminately.

I unfold my arms. "Nothing is more important to me than keeping her safe."

"Can you?" When Ben takes a step towards me, I grit my teeth, then have the urge to put my hand on his shoulder and reassure him. But I don't. "Keep her safe for me."

I nod once. "I can."

For you.

For me.

Cassidy

Walking down the third storey hallway, I tip toe towards the sound of banging and laughter and music - some kind of gangster rap. I stop mid-step when I hear the easy-going chuckle of Bronson filling the gaps between the profanity-filled lyrics. Glancing down at my pink silk pyjamas, I consider going back and covering myself in a robe.

Another bang pulls my gaze back to the room ahead.

Max's voice, more relaxed than I've heard it in a long time, greets my ears like a warm hug. His tone makes my heart pirouette. With that lovely feeling, I'm too intrigued to turn back.

The door at the end is open. Its walls are painted a bright white, reflecting the natural light. When I reach the entry, I peer around, trying to catch a glimpse of who is inside before they notice me. Bronson's dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a blue shirt the colour of his eyes. I notice Butch at the exact same time as he notices me.

Frick.

My cheeks warm at his welcoming smile. He's in a dark fitted suit, looking oddly out of place standing on the blue tarpaulin that covers the floor. "Girl of the hour."

Butterflies break loose in my stomach.

Bronson uses his watch to turn the music down. He grins at me, that mischievous dimple indenting his cheek. "Good morning,