Cosa Nostra: A Steamy Mafia Romance (Kids of The District Book 3) by Nicci Harris (new books to read .TXT) 📕

Flick moves in behind me, peering over my shoulder. "I don't like this, Cassidy. You are being almost owned."

Peering up at my sister, who is at least six inches taller than me, I say, "It's not like that. He's protecting me, that's all."

"And Carter is reporting to him. . . like you're his property. If I'd known, I'd never have. . ." I feel her sigh against my back. "I'd give up Stacey in a second to get you out of this mess."

"I'm not in any mess, Flick. Max-" My attention is snatched by Max's car pulling into the driveway. Moving away from Flick and towards the door, I suddenly stop at the handle. "I love Max. He didn't choose his lifestyle."

But before I can step out onto the veranda, Flick says, "Yeah, but you still can."

I don't like how those words ring in my ears.

Stepping outside into the warm dark night, I wait for him to park and switch the ignition off. I literally have to jump when exiting Romeo; he's like a few feet off the ground. Max, on the other hand, steps out with ease.

He strides with purpose towards me, cloaked in the occasional shadow.

"Max-" I begin, but when his face comes into view, I'm shell-shocked. Covering my mouth with my palm, I gasp into it. "Oh my God, what happened to your face?"

I rush to him, feeling the need to touch his beautiful face and kiss it back to health. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I nuzzle his chest. "What happened?" I can tell something is wrong. His body is taut. Feverish. When his arms go around my head, holding me to him, I rub into his body further. "Max. Did you get into a fight?"

Dropping his arms to his sides, he says, "Boxing. Let's go."

His fingers entwine with mine, but when he turns to pull me towards his car, I resist.

He has bruises all over his face. Blood on his lip. Yet, he wants me to just accept that he's been boxing recreationally when I know it's more than that. That someone has hurt him. Intentionally. That knots my stomach.

So secretive.

My fingers slip from his.

When he freezes with his back to me, I try to stand strong. Wanting to know what happened. Wanting the truth. Slowly, he faces me again, the light from the veranda highlighting his bruises and the cut in his lip and-

My breath catches.

And even though he's my Max. My Max. For the briefest of moments, I see Erik.

His scarred face lit up between the tree limbs at the wedding. His defensive, distrusting expression. His eyes full of revenge as he stroked between my legs.

Women were created to be so weak. Small. Fragile.

Max's brows draw together slowly. "What's going on?"

Slowing my breaths, I try not to heave.

"I miss my family," I blurt out before I can analyse why. Max's gaze darts to my feet, narrowing on them as I take a tiny step away from him. His fingers twitch as if he's resisting the urge to grab my hand again. "I just want to stay here tonight," I say, but the words are not strong and true; they are brittle and confused. As his expression darkens with suspicion, my heart twists. For him. For the confusion in my own actions.

I glance at the ground, my throat filling with heat. I've never denied him my company before. But I can't. . . not tonight. Not when he looks like- "Don't overthink this, Max."

He straightens. "Get in the car, Cassidy."

I meet his gaze again and try not to see the bruises. The lies. "Max." I say his name, hoping it'll ground me. It doesn't. "Stop it." Fierce stormy-blue eyes narrow on me just before he grabs my arm. "Max!" As he drags me towards his car, I dig my heels into the grass. A futile attempt to slow him. How easy it would be for him to throw me around. Control me.

Max controls you too.

My pulse ignites.

Manoeuvring me until my back is pressed to the passenger side door, he cages me in with his body, his palms meeting the car either side of my face, his muscular arms flexing as he leans forward, leaving me very little room to move.

My breaths come in hard and fast.

Dipping his head, his heavy exhales hit my neck as he whispers, "Don't make me beg, little one."

Trying to control my racing pulse, I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on Max's smell. He smells like sweat and our sheets and home, not like herbs and tobacco. Not like dense, pungent dark clouds of tobacco. This is Max. My Max!

I take a big breath in.

Out.

And I realise, something is wrong with him tonight. Something has happened. He needs me, and it's that need that drags me back to him. I bat my eyes open. He's staring down at me in a world of pain, turbulent and chaotic. Volatile and yet, deeply vulnerable. But Max is never vulnerable.

He needs me.

"What happened?" I whisper, ignoring the chaos in my head. The fear that makes no sense. He presses his forehead to mine, and I feel as though our hearts ache together but for different reasons. Neither of which we can explain to the other. His body vibrates with anger and restlessness around me.

"Just get in the car,” he whispers, his voice deep with emotion. "Please."

Oh God, he is literally begging me. "Shh." I cup the back of his neck, feeling the ridge of his shoulder muscles react. Pulse. They are on fire.

I stroke him soothingly, summoning all my will to remember that this is the man I love. That the fear I'm feeling isn't associated with him. Not at all. Even though that is all true, I can't stop the tremble in my voice. Or the sob that wants to burst out. I can't be there for him tonight. I just can't. Not when it is taking every piece of will I have to not flinch from his touch.