CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Lyla’s mouth opens slightly in shock. “I'm so sorry.” I study her face, looking for signs of pretense, but there's none. “It's fine.” I grunt, standing up and taking the plates to the sink. My mom and sisters. My heart beats.

I wasn't able to protect them that night. All they had done was go to the church to pray. I close my eyes, gripping the edge of the sink tight.

*“Don't be too long, Mama,” I shout out, knowing whenever she sets foot in the church, it could be hours before she comes out. “Emilio, my child, I want to go pray for the souls of your brother and you. I do not like these decisions you are taking,” Mama retorted, steeping down from the car. Ever since she found out my brother wanted to go back to the Mafia, she had been grumpy all day.

“You know, Mama left that life for a reason. And you guys want to drag her back into it,” my sister says, giggling. Her twin and she were the carbon copies of my mom. “Mama knows we need to do this.” I reply, hanging my head in shame. We didn't need to do it; we were just being stubborn. She ran away for our sake after all.

“Well, I hope you know what you're doing.” They step out of the car together, following my mom. Usually I would wait for them, no matter how long it took, but that night, I had to go for a meeting with Achilles. One of the twins had been tasked with calling me. I watch them walk away, my world, their blonde hair blowing in the cold winter. Luckily, they were dressed warmly. I will come pick them up later……*

“Emilio,” a voice intruded my thoughts. “Emilio,” Lyla.

She was by my side. “You're scaring me,” she whispered. That made me open my eyes. What was I doing that was scaring her?

I had my gun in my hand, pointed directly at her forehead. She was a brave girl; she didn't move; instead, tear tracks marked her face. “Please don't kill me,” her lips trembled.

I let out a sigh. “I was remembering something horrible, my little one. I wouldn't kill you.” I say. “Yet,” came her shaky reply.

I grin at her, putting the gun back into the waist of my pants. “Anyway,” I smile, feeling my demon come out slightly. It wants to play. “Let's play a little game.”

Lyla sits up straighter in her chair. “What game?” She asks, suspicion etched on her face.

“Cards my love,” I say, swiping out a packet of cards I had bought earlier. “I don't know how to play any card game,” Lyla replies, nibbling on her lips.

“Here,” I dragged the stool and sat on it. “I'll teach you.”

I open the pack of cards, pleased at how attentive she is. After I shuffle them, I place the stack in front of me.

“This game is different from what you know.” I informed her. “I'll pick a card and hide it. We each have three guesses to say which card it is. After three guesses, if you don't get it, you take off a piece of clothing.”

Yes, I know. A naked game. I really want to see her skin, and I could tie her and undress her, but sometimes I'm a gentleman like this.

“Really? That's silly,” Lyla confirms. She adjusts and smirks at me. “Ready.”

I smile back. “I'll go first.” I shuffle the card, looking into her dark eyes. Lyla is a mystery to me, I want to explore all her layers and know what exactly she's hiding, the kind of person she is. If the whole Daddy trained good obedient girl is an act. I already think it is but I want to see it for myself.

I pick a card and smirk at it. “First guess,” I say.

“Um, No. 5 Red Hearts,” she hesitates slightly. I shake my head no. “Ace, Black Clover,” I shake my head no again.

“One more guess.”

Lyla frowns at me, eyeing me from the bottom of her lashes. A hidden temper, she's really trying to make sure it doesn't come out. “God. I don't even know much about cards much,” she is frustrated. “10 Red hearts.”

I grin. “Wrong again love. One piece of clothing.”

If she had a gun, she could have probably shot my knee out with how she was looking at me. I smile wider, wondering if I could be the one to take her gun virginity. She pulls her top off and her nipples, fuck. Hard and pink and so ready for my mouth.

“My turn jerk.”

Seems she was a sore loser. She picks up the stack of cards, a frown on her face and mimics my movements, shuffling the cards just how she saw me do. A quick learner.

She pulls a card out and smiles a bit. “Guess.”

I lean back a bit. “Queen of Hearts, Red.”

Lyla’s mouth opens in shock. “How did you know that?” she screeches. “I'm a good body reader. “

She frowns at me and gets up from the chair, pulling her sweat pants down.

We played a couple of more rounds and I lost my shirt and pants along the way. Her eyes flick over my body at times, I know she has a lot of questions about my scars and who put them there. I haven't even told my brothers about who did them to me, choosing silence and bloodshed instead to let out my pain.

“This is so unfair,” Lyla cries, slamming the card down on the counter. I wiggle my brows at her, enjoying her annoyance. “Sore loser.”

“Cheat”

I gasp, clutching my chest. “Ms Russo I am not a Cheat.”

Lyla pauses. “Oh shit.”

“What is it?”

“I don't think I am Miss Russo. I said yes. I'm Mrs Donovan,” she whispers quietly.

I tsk. We hadn't considered that. “Well, you didn't sign the marriage certificate did you?” She shook her head no. “And you hadn't fucked him yet?” Her face warmed at that. “No, please. I just met him.”

I nod. “Well, you're still Miss Russo. Now ,take off your underwear, you distracting girl.”

She grins, “Saw through that, huh,” she steps out of her panties, bunching them in her fist.

I laugh at her. “It seems you've lost.”

“What is going on here?”