"Enzo's Girl" |18+| Book 2 - Mafia in love

Chapter | Twenty-two

His legs are surely long, with muscles showing through the tight fabric of his suit pants, flexing with each step he takes.

"And you are a liar, Jason," I tell him, and he smirks without looking at me.

I wish he has never pretended to be my boyfriend so he can be my friend, my best friend, someone other than my family that I can talk to and ease my heavy chest.

"No, I'm not. I'm just a damn good hitman working for your dad. I've just fallen for the... wrong person," he replies.

"Oh, fuck off, Jason!"

"Jesus, when did you get to have this foul mouth?"

"Since I had to fucking man up, Jason," I reply, bothered by his judgment, but right then the intercom rings announcing someone is downstairs.

Jason walks a few huge steps and presses the button.

"Yeah," he answers.

"Jason, open up," I hear uncle Mike saying and my racing heart almost chokes me, jumping right in my throat.

His voice is rough, filled with anger, and I immediately imagine the worst.

"Sure, Mike. Come up," Jason says and activates the elevator.

I take a deep breath and Jason immediately jumps next to me, wrapping his arms around my cold self, planting a kiss on my temple.

Surely the seriousness in uncle Mike's voice was no good news and Jason knew that.

"Women in your family don't break, Eve," he whispers in my ear and walks away the moment the elevator's door opens and a dark-eyed uncle Mike walks in.

His lips are pressed into a thin line and his thick eyebrows have frowned in a straight line when landing his eyes on Jason.

"Jason, out!" he orders and Jason walks towards the elevator not before nodding to uncle Mike and giving me another encouraging glare.

"Uncle Mike," I say, throat dry, swallowing the lump that has formed in my throat once my eyes land on his face, lifting my nose, radiating confidence that I swear I don't have but there is this power building up inside of me, growing with every second.

I can easily tell he is angry, the amber of his eyes is almost chocolate brown, and his eyebrows are gathered in a straight line that doesn't lose the tension even after landing his eyes on me.

He used to melt every time he would see me.

Seems today is not the case.

I decide to disregard the intensity of his stare and jump right into his arms, sobbing, relieved that I have in front of me at least one of the men, my dearest ones, walking on his own feet.

"Welcome back, uncle Mike," I whisper wrapped in his strong arms, barely breathing air in.

"Sweetie..." he says melting down and softening his voice.

Ha, I knew it!

We stay like this for a few good moments, uncle Mike rocking my body left and right, lightly and gently, bringing me memories of my happy childhood.

"What's wrong with you, kid?" he asks, still holding me and caressing the crown of my head and I know his question is deeper than he tries to tell.

I do take advantage of that because I know something more is in his thoughts.

"I'm hurting, uncle Mike," I complain and sob some more.

"You're not the only one, kid. Your dad is crashed. You weren't home when we arrived, and he blamed himself for having shouted at you before he left. And we both know this isn't the reason you are hurting, kid. So why do you punish his buttons?" he replies.