Mafia's Obsession [18+]

9.

Ezio

A shrill ring on my phone makes me groan, but still my hand reaches to the bedside drawers and taps the green. I briefly glance at the girl beside me that I think knocked out dead if not for her chest movement. She's undisturbed, laying on her side facing away from me and far on the edge of the bed. One push and she's definitely falling onto the floor.

I curse myself for not turning off my phone last night knowing I'm going to receive a hell lot of phone calls in the morning.

"Rise and shine." Marco sing-songs on the other line, thick of sarcasm and annoyance.

I rub my face harshly. "Is he talking?" I ask right away. Last night we caught the fucker that helping Russo with the shipment. Our low-rank soldier who thinks it's a good idea to backstab us. As if we won't find out.

"Talking? He was fucking singing!" he yells. Again with the irritation I can't miss.

"Must you shout in the morning?" I snap, having enough of his childish act. Though I know very well what caused it.

"Unlike you, at least I'm doing my job." He scowls. Yeah, he has a point. I need to remind myself not to cockblock him again in the future. But hey, it's my payback because he wouldn't tell me where my girl was. Though he's aware they were literally in the same place, Maria Fiori's gallery.

"I'm busy." I mutter.

"Oh, yeah? Doing what?" Another sarcastic tone. If not for being my best friend since childhood, he won't get away with it. Doing your sister. To be exact. I voice internally. "Wait, don't fucking say anything." He backtracks.

"I don't."

"Shut up."

I grin.

"So, what are we going to do with him?" he asks, sounding so dramatic and tired.

My eyebrow raises. "I'm surprised you haven't killed him yet."

"Of course I have. I mean with the body. Do you have any spesific sick idea to send Russo a message?" My grin widens. This is why I and Marco always work in sync. Our minds work alike. He knows exactly what I want. What I prefer. He's calling the shots he knows I'll take. He doesn't become my right-hand man for nothing. The man is smart as fuck.

"I'll leave that to you." I reply.

"Right. And now I have a day off." He hangs up immediately.

Sofia stirs beneath the sheets, groaning as she moves. Probably sore from last night fucking. Amazing fuck if I'm completely honest. I came so hard it was almost embarrassing. Like a fucking teenager. But hell, that pussy is one to blame.

I run my knuckles over her side, caressing the curve and the dip of her slim waist. Can't help myself. She's so tempting, naked on my bed. Damn it. I have never brought women home before. But there she is, laying here like she owns the place. And the sight doesn't even bother me. I am fucked.

"You okay?" I say when I see her wince once again. Those beautiful eyes flutter open.

"Well, I feel like a car just ran me over." She replies sarcastically, shifting her position so she's sitting against the headboard.

"That bad?" my lips curl up.

"Yeah, don't fuck me in near future." She scoffs. I really hope she's joking. "What time is it?"

I check my phone. "Ten."

"What? Oh my God, I'm late for work." She gets up immediately, skipping toward the bathroom. She doesn't even bother to cover herself. I watch her, amused.

"Can't you call in sick?" I ask. It's not like she has to earn money for living.

"Then, how should I spend my boring day?" she yells over the running water. Touché.

"I don't know. Have you explored the mansion?" I suggest lamely.

"Boring!" she exclaims. From my observation, she's always unfazed by the luxury. Money never seems to amaze her. There's no twinkle of joy in those eyes at everything I have offered. None. Impassive as ever.

While she's taking a shower, I get up putting on sweatpants and t-shirt from my walk-in closet. I need to go to my office to evaluate some reports.

"I can't take you today." I yell out, hoping she can hear me from the bathroom. She didn't even close the door.

"Okay!" she yells back cheerily, more than happy to spend the rest of the day without me. It surprises me that I'm not even offended by it.

✖️

I work for hours in the office, making a few calls, signing documents, you know, the usual. I took a break only to have lunch before sitting back in my office. I need some confirmation from Marco, but after last night I know he'll just ignore my calls.

I stretch my arms over my head and get up from my leather chair, deciding to take a shower. I walk back to my bedroom, only to find it messier than before. Her luggage in the corner is wide open with piles of her clothes and shoes scattered on the floor. The sight gives me a headache. There is no way I organize them for her.

I dial her number, but of course she doesn't answer. Unluckily for her, I am an insistent bastard.

"What?"

I can't believe this girl. Should I be the one who's irritated?

"Are you always this messy? Your stuffs are all over the room." I almost snap, trying to keep my composure.

"Right. I'll bring them home." She replies sarcastically. I'm almost sure she's rolling her eyes right now.

"I have much space in my closet, just keep it all there." I say, rubbing my temple as I stride toward the bathroom and find the marble vanity now filled by her makeup and everything. "For God's sake, I really can not tolerate messy, dolcezza."

"I was in hurry this morning." She huffs. As if it shouldn't be her to blame.

"Where are you now?" I ask, ignoring her excuse. I realize it's already five and she has not come back yet.

"I...uh have a late meeting with some clients—"

"Don't fuck with me." I narrow my eyes, seeing her bullshit right away. This girl lives to fucking test the hell out of me. Why can't she for once give me peace? Since she graces me with her presence, my temper gets even worse.

"Umm, I'm drinking at a bar with my coworkers." She says, letting out which I hope is the truth.

"Franco will pick you up." I state sternly.

"Huh? But I was taking your car." She replies, confused.

So, she was driving by herself and didn't even care to inform me?

"Which car?" I already know before she says it out loud.

"Bugatti." She replies sheepishly.

Yeah. Talk about the nerve.

"Franco will pick you up." I state once more, emphasizing every word and leaving no room for argue.

"No need. I'm still sober, Z."

Like hell. She obviously slurs, calling me Z.

"Well, I'm not risking my car."

"You bastard."

✖️