All Chapters of Mafia Tech Bro: Chapter 71 - Chapter 79

TANISHA The drive back was tranquil. The chill from the air-conditioner moved gently through the car, cool against my skin. It slipped along my arms, my throat, the back of my neck. The steady flow of it made the space feel calmer, like the world outside had been tuned down.I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching other cars pass by, the vibrant neon signs illuminating the buildings, the people on the sidewalk, each one absorbed in their routines. Everyone seemed to have a destination. I found myself wondering if anyone had ever paused to watch me from their cars, curious about my life and where I was headed.I exhaled, a thin fog blooming against the window.“I didn't expect to enjoy the car race as much as I did,” My voice sounded small against the low thrum of the engine.Roman didn’t pull his eyes from the road, but his grip on the wheel shifted, enough for the leather to creak. “You never really know what you delight in until you try.”“That’s not true,”

CHRISTOF“Come in.”The handle turned almost at once. Tanisha stepped in, closing the door behind her. The office held its usual stillness, filtered light cutting across the desk.She stopped where she always did. Not too close. Not distant either.The paper beneath my hand carried a faint trace of ink, still fresh where I had signed. The scent of it mixed with the leather and the low, conditioned air moving steadily through the vents above. I let my eyes finish the line I was on, then set the pen down beside the file.When I looked up, she was watching me with a bored expression. The carefree smile that had graced her face at the track was a stark contrast to the stance she held now. She stood upright, hands clasped in front of her, clearly eager for me to get to the point of why I had summoned her.I tried to recall if she had ever smiled the way she did in my presence. Nothing came. My mind wandered back to how toned and smooth her legs had looked in those shorts, now hidden beneat

CHRISTOFThe office was quiet enough for me to hear the faint scrape of paper against Tanisha’s desk every time she turned a page.The sun had dropped low enough to turn the glass beside her into a dark polarizing filter. Outside, Manhattan was just a blur of neon and and stop-and-go traffic, thirty stories down. The executive floor eased into a slower pace after six. Most departments had already emptied out, leaving the expansive space cloaked in a deeper silence. Tanisha sat at her desk, reviewing legal documents, one leg crossed beneath the other. Her attention fixed on the file in front of her. The sleeve of her blouse had slipped slightly down her wrist. She pushed it back absentmindedly without looking up.The air conditioning hummed softly overhead. It was too cold. I noticed it in the way her fingers curled briefly before flattening against the paper again. A small movement, repeated enough over the last few days for me to recognize it now.She rubbed her thumb once agai

TANISHASome of my weekends belonged to Roman now. Which still sounded ridiculous in my head sometimes. Months ago, I would have puked at the thought of sacrificing my sacred weekends to willingly participate in obscure activities with one of the most unreadable men I had ever met.Yet somehow, here I was. On a fishing boat, holding a fishing rod, in the middle of the Hudson River. The breeze across the river was sharp enough to pull a few strands loose from my bun.Sunlight flashed sharply across the surface of the river every time the boat shifted, bright enough to force me to squint occasionally. Somewhere farther across the water, another boat drifted slowly past, small against the endless stretch of blue-gray river and tree-lined banks.I stared down at the rod in my hand, then at Roman. The back at the rod.“This still feels unconventional to me,” I said.Roman sat across from me near the stern, one arm resting loosely against his knee while he adjusted something on his reel. T

TANISHAWe started packing when the the sun had dropped low enough to bleed copper across the water.The river was a mess of broken light, flickering every time the boat caught a swell. The temperature had dipped, too. I felt the chill deep in my marrow as I reeled in my line, focusing hard so I wouldn't repeat the disaster where I nearly hooked my own shoulder.“Careful,” Roman said.“I’m practically moving in reverse.”He stepped past me, moving with a heavy, certain kind of balance, snapping the rods into their racks. The boat rocked under his weight. I white-knuckled the railing until he reached for the cooler, the lid shutting with a solid, final thud.The air on the deck was thick, smelling faintly of river water, metal, and fresh fish. My sweatshirt sleeves were pushed halfway up my forearms, and despite washing my hands twice already, they still carried traces of bait and cold lake water.River water.Whatever.Same difference.I crouched beside the tackle box near my feet, s