Chapter 4 - Sparks in the Dark
Paul.
Paulie "The Hammer" Moretti—Massimo’s second-in-command, the man who had stood by Massimo's father for thirty years and held the family's financial reigns while Massimo was bedridden.
The silence in the gym was deafening.
Massimo sat back down in his chair, taking off his wrist wraps with terrifyingly calm precision. "Paulie. My father called him a brother."
"We don't have absolute proof yet, Boss," Luca cautioned. "It could be a frame job by the Valentis to make us turn on each other."
"Paulie hasn't visited this house in three weeks," Massimo said softly, his voice colder than ice. "He told the capos I was brain-damaged from the explosion. He's been consolidating power in South Boston."
Massimo looked up at me. "Tessa, go to your room."
"Massimo, your heart rate is spiking—"
"Tessa. Go."
I knew better than to argue when he used that tone. I grabbed my clipboard and walked up the grand staircase to my guest quarters on the second floor.
That evening, a massive autumn storm hit the coast.
Thunder shook the stone foundations of the estate, and sheets of rain lashed against the glass. By 9:00 PM, the main power grid failed, plunging the mansion into darkness before the silent emergency generators kicked in, casting low, amber lights through the grand hallways.
I couldn't sleep. My mind kept replaying the image of Massimo taking that step—and the look in his eyes right before Luca walked in.
I pulled on a thick wool cardigan over my tank top and walked down the quiet corridor toward his wing.
The door to his room was slightly ajar. Low amber light spilled into the hall.
I peeked inside.
Massimo was sitting on the edge of his king-sized bed, stripped to the waist, his dark body covered in severe muscle spasms. His back was arched in pain, sweat glistening across his sculpted chest and the dark tattoos of the lion and the rose. His legs were jumping involuntarily—a common, painful side effect of recovering spinal pathways.
He was gritting his teeth, trying to reach a bottle of muscle relaxants on his nightstand, but a severe spasm locked his torso.
I didn't hesitate. I walked into the room, grabbed the pill bottle, poured a glass of water, and stepped beside him.
"Here," I said gently.
Massimo looked up, his face pale, sweat dripping from his chin. "Tessa... I told you... not to come in here..."
"I'm a physical therapist, Massimo. I don't leave my patients suffering."
I handed him the tablet and water. He swallowed it quickly.
Without asking, I sat on the edge of the mattress beside him. I reached out, pressing my warm hands into the rock-hard muscles of his lower back, using deep tissue trigger-point therapy to break the painful spasm.
Massimo let out a long, ragged groan, his head dropping forward. "God... Tessa..."
"Breathe," I murmured, leaning in close, my fingers digging into the tight knots along his spine. "Let the muscle release. Don't fight me."
"I can't... stop fighting," he rasped, his voice rough. "If I stop fighting, I break."
"You won't break," I whispered, my face inches from his bare shoulder. I could smell the rain, cedar, and raw heat of his skin. "I won't let you."
Massimo turned his head slowly.
Our faces were breaths apart. In the dim amber light of the storm, his dark eyes held mine captive.
"Why are you doing this, Tessa?" he whispered, his hand coming up to touch my cheek, his fingers rough and warm against my soft skin. "You have your money. You could leave. This world is poison."
"I don't care about the money anymore," I confessed, my voice trembling with honesty.
"Then why stay?"
"Because of you," I breathed.
Massimo didn't say another word. He reached out, gathered me into his broad arms, and pulled me onto his lap. His lips claimed mine in a fierce, possessive, hungry kiss that blew away every boundary, every rule, and every doubt between us.
May you like
I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling in his dark hair, kissing him back with a fierce passion that matched his own.
The mafia boss who couldn't walk had just swept me off my feet.
