Emilio (Made Men #3)

Two

Emilio

I did not have time for this shit. I really didn't. I had things to do, work to attend to. I was supposed to be at my son's PTA right now, talking to the teacher about why he got so much damn homework. Then I was supposed to be interviewing tutors for him. But the fucking Russians had to come and mess up my entire day. 

Filthy motherfuckers. After all the shit they pulled, kidnapping Isabelle, then trying to become allies after we killed a bunch of their men, and their leader Jace Ivankshov, they sent a scared little chick to steal information. Also, who even sneaks into offices anymore? Did they not try hackers?

I stood to the side, against a wall, as I watched Isabelle and Mariano argue back and forth about the girl. She wanted her to get some clothes. Mariano wanted to kill her and get this shit over with. Isabelle has such a soft heart. She's hardening up, of course. She ought to, she is Donna now. 

I shook my head, walking to them. I didn't have the time to watch them argue and then hate-fuck and then come to a decision. 

"I'll take her." I announced. "Get her some clothes. I'm in need of a new maid."

"Just send her back." Isabelle pleaded to her fiance. "She looks harmless. She couldn't steal anything. She has a brother. She's his only family."

I snorted. "This type of behaviour from the Donna is gonna cost us, Mariano."

I'd harbored a crush on Isabelle for so long. She was my brother's fiance, for fuck's sake. My Donna. I had no business wanting to kiss the shit out of her pink lips. She was so gorgeous it was almost funny. And she was sweet and innocent, a little fiery. My brother was a lucky son of a bitch.

Then again, Mama wasn't a bitch at all.

Mariano cupped her face and whispered, "You know we can't do that, tesoro."

I resisted the urge to gag. My stupid crush on her had long since faded. I'd almost begun seeing her as my little sister. She had something about her that made you want to protect her like a little child. Their PDA was gross, though. Mariano was so pussy whipped it made me want to throw up.

Isabelle nodded solemnly, then turned to me, "I swear to God, Emilio, if you take advantage of her or do anything remotely - "

I cut her off. "She's not my type." I said. "Please, look at her, you think I'd fuck a skinny Russian bitch with scars all over her body?"

She gasped. "I can't believe you said that. You're a dick, Emilio."

I shrugged. It wasn't news to me. 

I looked at my watch. "Hurry, Mariano. I need to pick Nico up from school."

Isabelle marched into the room the girl was in with a few clothes in her hand. After a while, she came back out. 

"Go." She told me, then disappeared off to Mariano's office with him. God, they fucked like rabbits. I could never imagine fucking one girl for all of my life.

I snuck my head in through the door. "Come on out." I ordered gruffly.

The girl was now wearing a hoodie I had seen on Isabelle a few times and tight pants I think are called leggings. The clothes didn't fit her well. She was too skinny. When I had seen her naked a while ago she had been all skin and bone. Her arms were crossed over her chest. When she saw me, her gaze shifted to the floor.

"Out." I ordered again. "I don't have all day."

She clutched her arms tighter against herself, and a sob broke out from her throat. Fucking hell.

I walked in and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her all the way to my car, ignoring her hiccups and cries, pushed her into the passenger seat and shut the door. "Don't fucking test my patience." I hissed at her. "When I tell you to do something you better fucking do it."

"Y-y-yes, sir." She stammered. I wanted to yell at her, tell her to stop being so weak and scared, but I just got in my seat and started driving. I'd have all the time in the world to change her disposition.

I looked at her from the corner of my eye as I drove. She had long, black hair that reached her waist. She had big brown eyes that would shine gold in the Sun. Her skin was a smooth light brown, marred by scars and bruises. I could only see her face and hands right now, because she was wearing full sleeved clothes. She had a cut on her forehead, and she kept wringing her hands in her lap.

"What's your name, again?" I asked.

"B-Bethany, s-sir." She spoke so softly it was almost impossible to figure out what she was saying.

I nodded, shifting my concentration back on to the road. A second later, Bethany coughed?

"P-permission to sp-speak, s-sir?" She asked.

Why was she asking permission to speak?

"Yes?" I said, offhandedly, "And you don't have to ask permission to speak."

She nodded slowly. "Are you going to s-sell me?"

I wanted to play with her, frighten her a bit, twist her mind. Poor little mouse. But she was too scared anyway. I was afraid she'd restart crying any minute. 

One thing being in the mafia had not taught me was how to deal with crying chicks. And I sure didn't want a practical lesson right now.

"No." I said honestly. "I'm taking you to my house. You will be helping the housekeeper."

Bethany gasped. "Y-you won't put me in a brothel? Or r-rape me?"

"We don't have any brothels. But you can go back to the Central if you wish to be a whore."

"N-no." She said. "S-sorry, sir."

Why was she saying fucking sorry? What a fucking mess. 

If the Russians had sent her she had to be one of their best. But she's been shivering when Luca had found her in Mariano's office, and had started crying the moment she'd been caught. Hadn't fought, hadn't argued. And now here she was, stuttering, calling me sir, and apologizing for no damn reason. 

Well, the Russians were fucking stupid. Or maybe, just maybe, this was all just an act.