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⊰ 27.5 ⊱ Bloodlines and Loyalties
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The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 28 ⊱ Silent Battles: Part 3
There’s a ringing in my ears, fog in my eyes, and a dizziness in my head. It’s as though the world around me is closing in and I’m shrinking with it, only my throat can’t keep up, and the narrowness feels as thin as a straw. I don’t know how, but by the time I can process my surroundings, I’m standing in my bedroom with the door wide open, and desperately looking for something that I won’t find: a source to help me breathe. My erratic heart feels as though it’s going to explode in my chest, my hand relinquishing its hold on the bottle of pills before moving to the neck of my sweater and balling it tightly into my fist. I’m okay. I’m okay. It’s gonna be okay. The feeling is all too familiar: I’m at the verge of a panic attack. This can’t happen here. Not here. Not with them. Desperate to distract myself, I pick up the bottle from the floor, rushing to the restroom where I struggle to pop the lid open. Despite the room spinning, I stand over the toilet as I pour the pills out, my h
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 28.5 ⊱ Porcelain Doll
⊰ Marcel ⊱ I wish she would listen. Just once…I wish she would fucking listen. With each deliberate step, I make my way toward Mercy’s room. I hadn’t expected her to defy the boundaries I thought were understood between us, and as I come to the end of the hall, I find the door to her bedroom open. I thought I could trust keeping her on a longer leash. I thought I could count on her to follow the unspoken rules laid out for her, but now, walking through the threshold of her room, my trust in her competence shatters. Anger clouds my judgment as I emerge into the room, slamming the door behind me. The sound reverberates through the room, my sharp eyes scanning the familiar space as I continue my way through it until my gaze finds her standing in the bathroom with the door wide open, her shaking hands holding her over the bathroom sink. Her breathing is uneven, her eyelids shut as she bows her head and soft whimpers emit from the
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 29 ⊱ Facing My Reflection
There are some things that I know I’ll never be able to repay Marcel for, and last night is one of them. As my eyelids flutter open, my gaze lands on my hand as it rests flat against Marcel’s bare, muscular chest. My head fits perfectly on his shoulder, and in my comfort, I remain utterly still, tracing the split of his pectorals with my eyes, shifting my sight to his restful features. The morning light casting from behind the window drapes is just bright enough to illuminate his face, and as I lay here, watching him sleep, I feel a peace I haven’t felt in a long time. Despite everything that happened last night, it seems that all I can think about is how he agreed to spend the night with me without hesitation. All I can think about is how he held me and how when I kissed him, instead of taking advantage of me—orlettingmetake advantage ofhim—he was gentle. Like the perfect gentleman he can be, he was…sweet—loving.
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 30 ⊱ Treading a Fine Line
It feels as though someone has turned up the heat in the room, feeling my blood run hot beneath my skin as I sit here, sharing the dining table with Marcel, Levi, Santiago, and Guillermo. I hold my hands on my lap, twiddling my fingers under the sleeves of my sweater as my heel incessantly bounces up and down against the marble floor. I’m intentional with my gaze, avoiding looking at Levi who sits right next to me, and only glancing at Santiago and Guillermo who sit across from me every-so-often. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Marcel as he leans forward on his seat, resting his elbows on the table as his fingers interlock with one another. “Mercy,” Marcel’s voice draws my attention, my head instinctively snapping to the side, my gaze flicking up to meet his. A stern look plays on his face, a stark difference from the tenderness he offered me when I first walked in the room. “How long until you’re finished preparing the devices?” We’re talking about
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 31 ⊱ Bitter Tastes
As it turns out, I never actually needed Adderall. I just needed to go off on Guillermo so that Marcel could kiss me—really kiss me—and I’d need something to really sink my head into to distract myself from all the shit happening outside of the walls of the lab. Who woulda thought? After thoroughly conducting my root cause analysis, 2 days ago, instead of picking up the courage that I seemed to have dropped the moment I walked out of that dining room, I cowardly asked Frank to relay my message to Marcel: the project will be complete in 3 days, which has now turned into 2 days because I’m wrapping up now. It seems that the wires that I didn’t connect would’ve only been essential if the signal sent from the remote hadn’t been picked up by what I like to call ‘plan A’, because yes, like the type A planner that I am, I had installed a back-up to the back-up of the back-up in case there was a defect in any of the essential parts of the d
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 31.5 ⊱ Collateral Damage
⊰ Marcel ⊱ I eye the golden-brown liquid as I set the half-empty decanter down on the coffee table, hearing it clink against the glass surface. With the round stopper, I secure it atop the decanter before turning to face the room with a half-full glass in my hand. The dim light casting down from the parlor’s chandelier casts shadows that seem to cling to the edges, and it feels as though it’s suffocating me as my gaze lands on Catalina who sits across from me, her presence as commanding as ever. With the burden of the imminent conversation weighing on my mind, I’ve prepared myself, knowing there’s too much at risk if it doesn’t go as planned. With each step I take toward the leather armchair I often find comfort in, the glass in my hand feels heavier than usual. I lower myself to the empty seat as I take a sip, the sensation of the liquid burning a path down my throat hardly noticeable now, four glasses later, as my gaze flickers to meet Cata
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 32 ⊱ Edge of Envy: Part 1
I sit at the foot of the bed, cross-legged with a bag of powdered sugar donuts resting between my bent legs and my gaze fixed on the sunset beaming through the large windows across from me. Shortly after being escorted back to my room, I took a long, hot shower, slipped into a pair of soft black leggings and an oversized red hoodie, pulled the window drapes back, and found the perfect spot at the foot of the bed to watch the sun away. Sad girl hours… I sigh softly as I bring another mini donut up to my lips, shoving it whole in my mouth. The white powdered sugar stains my thumb and index finger, reflecting the corners of my lips as I chew thoughtfully. He’s probably fucking her right now. The mere thought of Marcel entangled with that woman, Catalina, is unsettling in ways that I wish it weren’t, and if it weren’t for the tablespoon of sugar on my tongue, the bitter taste in my mouth would reflect the painfu
The Mafia's Mercy ⊰ 33 ⊱ Blurred Lines: Part 2
Standing here, in the middle of my bedroom, eyeing Marcel as he stands before me with his hand still tucked into the pocket of his charcoal gray slacks, my blood runs hot in my veins, my jaw clenching as his eyes glare into my own. I arch a brow, my voice darkening as I ask, “Are you done?” He narrows his eyes on me, but before he can mutter a sound, I interject, sassing him, “Because if you are, I’d like to finish what I was going to say.” He scoffs, shaking his head angrily as he growls, “I don’t need to hear it. You want all of the benefits of being with me without having to make any commitments, because you don’t know what you want. You never have.” My eyebrows furrow, the anger boiling inside of me spilling over as I yell, “That’s not true! You don’t even —” “It’s not?” He raises his eyebrows, laughing at me, taunting me as he muses, “Well, that’s a first.” Screw. You. Marcel. I’m at the verge of telling him to g
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