When He Takes: A Dark Mafia Romance (Fallen God Book 2)

Ring. Ring. Ring.

I’m sprawled out on Blake’s bed like a giant fucking starfish, staring blankly at the ceiling.

My head throbs with a pounding rhythm. My chest aches. I’ve been lying here like this ever since she left, unable to get myself to do anything else.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Whoever’s calling can go straight into the fiery pits of hell. I hope they suffer as they burn.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

That’s the phone connected to the concierge desk. Alec, take a hint. I’m not interested in visitors. Closed for appointments until next month. Scratch that, next year. It’s fucking February, so yeah. Perfect.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

I’m going to fucking kill whoever this is.

I sit up. My body protests, every muscle feeling like it’s been replaced with lead. I stomp over to the front door and snatch the phone off the cradle. “What?”

“Alessio Ferraro is here for you, sir.”

“Tell him to fuck right off,” I growl.

“Sir, please! I’m afraid I can’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“He’s not taking no for an answer.”

“What’s the point of having security here? Where are they?”

“They’re here. Cowering.”

“Jesus, fuck,” I mutter. “Okay. Whatever. Send him up.”

I drag my palms over my face, exhaling a heavy breath before moving to unlock the door. A few moments later, the elevator dings and slides open.

A groan escapes me at the unwelcome sight of the man. He looks like the fucking grim reaper in his uniform of all black.

He steps out of the elevator. “You’re three hours late for work.”

“You know what? Fuck you. I really don’t want to do this with you right now.”

I try to swing the door shut, but he stops it with his foot. “You’re a capo now. You’ve got people to boss around. Money to collect. Businesses to run.”

“I said… Fuck. You.”

I push at the door, but he pushes right back just as hard.

Ugh. Whatever. If he wants to come in and annoy me, he can go ahead.

I let him in and walk away, heading straight for the bar in the corner of the living room. I grab a glass decanter filled with whiskey and pour myself a glass.

Alessio watches silently as I splash in a large messy pour, then he lifts his eyes to mine.

We maintain eye contact as I down the entire thing.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks as I slam the glass down and move to refill it.

“Everything.”

“Where’s Blake?”

“Gone.”

“Where did she go?”

“San Francisco. And she’s not coming back.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re over, Alessio. We’re done. So fuck you, and fuck the Ferraros, and fuck being a capo. I don’t give a fuck if you want to kill me. Go ahead and put me out of my misery, will you?” I don’t care anymore. Not now that Blake’s decided I’m not worth the trouble that comes with me.

I move to the sofa and sit down with my whiskey. Outside, the sun is peeking through the gray clouds as if it’s just any other day. It doesn’t give a fuck that my life is over. I pick up the remote that controls the blinds and bring them all the way down.

Alessio sits across from me. “As your old boss, I’m supposed to make sure you successfully transition to your new position.”

I ignore him and take a big sip.

The whiskey doesn’t even burn as it goes down my throat. A pleasant haze wraps around my mind, softening the harsh edges of reality. I put the glass down and close my eyes, hoping to sink into that haze, but instead, I see Blake standing by the front door, looking at me with those haunting blue eyes, right before she walks out.

Letting her go was the right thing to do. I had to let her choose, to let her decide what kind of a life she wants for herself. It was probably the most selfless act of my entire miserable existence.

But it feels like I let my heart walk out the door with her, leaving nothing but a broken husk inside my chest.

I hear Alessio get to his feet and walk away.

Asshole. He’s threatened to kill me on more than one occasion, but when I actually want him to do it, he fucking leaves.

Pressing the heels of my palms against my forehead, I let out a groan.

I thought I knew heartbreak, but this feels even worse than the agony I felt when I drove Blake from Missouri to Vegas and then to New York. She wanted nothing to do with me then, but at least she was with me. Her hurt and anger dimmed my world, but it didn’t drain it of color the way her absence does now. Everything feels gray, empty.

“Drink this.” Something clanks against the coffee table.

I crack one eye open. Alessio brought me water.

“Did you spike it with arsenic?”

“You have a morbid sense of humor.”

“I thought you of all people might appreciate it.” I gulp half the glass down. Maybe if I drink it, he’ll finally leave.

“Do you have someone I can call? Someone who could…fix this?”

“It’s unfixable.”

Alessio sighs. “I’ll have to talk to Dad about it. He won’t be happy you didn’t show up on day one.”

“I don’t—“

“Give a fuck. I know.” He rubs his palm over his head, looking befuddled. “This is why I don’t have friends. People are too complicated.”

“You seem to know how to crack ‘em well.”

“They’re only simple when their life is at stake. Everyone just wants to survive.”

“Not me.”

“Hence the confusion,” he mutters.

I finish the water, put the glass back down, and curl up on the sofa. I don’t want to talk anymore. I don’t want to think anymore. I just want darkness to claim me so that I don’t feel anything.

Just when I’m about to cross over the line into unconsciousness, I feel someone drape a blanket over me.

“Get up.”

Something nudges against my leg. I ignore it.

“Nero, get up.”

“Mmm, leave me alone.” I lift my leg onto whatever surface I’m currently lying on and turn on my side, away from the person making all that noise.

It works. I’m left alone. Slowly, I’m pulled back into the dark—

WHOOSH.

Cold! Oh fuck, that’s cold!

I sit up with a gasp. “What the fuck!”

A lot of things register quickly. I’m on the sofa, my shirt is drenched, and there’s someone standing over me, but it’s too fucking bright to see who it is.

I raise my hand, shielding my eyes. “Rafe?”

“How long have you been lying here like this?” Rafe demands, sounding annoyed.

I groan again. Why would he open the blinds? I’m disoriented, dizzy, thirsty, and my retinas feel like they’ve been burned.

“I don’t know. What time is it?” I pluck at my wet T-shirt.

“Six p.m.”

Which means it’s only been four hours since Blake left. It feels like I’ve been out for far longer than that.

My gaze meets Rafe’s. “Why are you here?”

“Alessio called me. I was in a meeting in Albany. Drove here as soon as I could.”

“You didn’t need to do that. I’m fine.”

Rafe rolls his eyes. “You smell like you bathed in whiskey.”

“I think I slept it off. Mostly.”

“I’m taking you to the park. You need to be taken for a walk and aired out.”

“I’m not a fucking puppy,” I mutter.

His gaze narrows. “What’s that?”

Ugh. That’s his don’t-give-me-that-shit voice. He’s not gonna leave until I do as he says.

“Never mind.” I push off the sofa and get to my feet. That’s a mistake. Everything wobbles until Rafe grabs my elbow and steadies me.

He sighs. “I should have come here as soon as you said you needed the plane for Blake. Why did you let her go?”

I extract my elbow from his grip. “Because it was the right thing to do. There’s nothing more lethal than a woman who makes you want to do the right thing, is there?”

The hard lines of his expression soften. “C’mon. Go put on a new shirt, and let’s go. You can wax philosophical once we’re outside.”

We take a taxi to Central Park. The place is crowded with tourists, dog walkers, and old men hunched over chessboards. We grab coffee from a truck and amble down a winding path.

“I never brought Blake here,” I tell Rafe. “Tried to once—the day we got the pakhan. Maksim showed up just as we were about to go, and that was that.” Now I’m never going to get the chance to take that walk with her. My throat tightens.

“Tell me what happened this morning.”

“She nearly died from that bullet wound, Rafe. I forced her into this marriage, into this world, and she nearly fucking died because of it. So I gave her the freedom to make her own choice.” I exhale. “She chose to go back to a normal life over a life with me.”

Rafe sips on his coffee. “Why?”

“Probably because she didn’t want to end up like my mom. Killed while out for dinner.”

“She was worried about her safety?”

“She didn’t say that explicitly. She didn’t say anything, really. She just said she was going to leave, and the next day—today—she was gone.”

Rafe’s expression remains unreadable as we continue walking, but I can tell he’s thinking, analyzing. He’s always been the calculated one, the one who plans ten steps ahead. That’s why he’s a don, and I’m just the capo drowning in whiskey and regret.

“You’re an idiot,” he finally says.

I snap my head to the side, glaring at him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You’re an idiot.” He takes another sip. “Giving her the choice to stay was the right move, but letting her go without even fucking asking her to explain herself was foolish.”

My anger spikes. “What right did I have to do that?”

Rafe stops walking and turns to face me, his eyes hard and unyielding. “You’re not the only one hurting in the aftermath of the shit show that went down with the pakhan. Do you think your wife isn’t going through stuff? You gave her a choice, sure. But did you ever consider that she might not want that choice? That she wasn’t in any state to make a decision that big, that quickly?”

I frown, unsure how to respond.

“How did you behave around her after she got shot?” he presses.

“I was caring, concerned, maybe a bit overbearing.” I swallow. “And…distant.”

“Why?”

“Because I feel guilty!”

“And so you pushed her away,” Rafe says, stepping closer. “You pushed her away prematurely in case she chose to leave. You probably thought it’d make your pain easier to handle—which is bullshit, by the way. Ask me how I fucking know.” He scoffs. “When she needed you the most, you shut down and made her feel like she was alone in this world. Blake didn’t need you to give her an out from this life. She needed you to be with her in it. To face it together.”

I clench my jaw, the words hitting a nerve. Is it possible he’s right? “I was there with her. I watched her fight for her life after she got a bullet in her belly. She never would’ve been shot if it weren’t for me.”

“We are all responsible for our own decisions, Nero. You told me she wanted to go through with Gino’s plot. She knew the risks involved.”

I shake my head. “Did she?”

“Don’t be condescending. Of course she did. She’s not an idiot. Whatever her motivations were, she thought it was worth it.”

She wanted to help me so that I wouldn’t be Alessio’s lackey anymore. She wanted to get me out of a situation that a normal fucking man would never even find himself in.

We sit down on a bench. Ordinary people move past us—people whose daily lives aren’t defined by life-or-death stakes.

I never wanted to be one of them.

Until now.

Something swift and silent tears through my chest. “I don’t want to be a gangster anymore.”

In my periphery, I see Rafe look at me.

My palms press against the bench, my fingers wrapping around its edge. “What the fuck is the point of this? Any of this? I always thought living this life would make me the right kind of man. A man who deserves respect. A man who can provide. Who can protect. But that’s not true, is it? It was a fantasy I created for myself. I just didn’t want to become like my father—stubbornly principled and useless.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“Am I?”

“It’s not about whether you’re a mobster or not. Maybe the problem is you romanticized the lifestyle, and now that you love someone, you’re finally realizing it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. There are trade-offs. Ones I’m very familiar with.”

Fuck. Is Rafe right? Have I romanticized this life up until now? Perhaps. And in doing so, maybe I dismissed Blake’s fears instead of figuring out how we could tackle them together head-on. She was afraid being in this world would change her, and I kept telling her she was wrong…but was she?

Haven’t I noticed the change in her? She became more cautious here in New York. And also more bold and more brave.

Instead of denying reality, I could have acknowledged it. And I could have reassured her that even though she was adapting to her circumstances, it wasn’t something she had to fear. I could have told her that nothing would ever take her inherent goodness away. That if anything, her goodness shone even fucking brighter in the shadows.

But none of that would have saved her from getting shot. That happened because of me, because of who I am.

I glance at Rafe. “Pretty big trade-offs, don’t you think? Let’s just be honest about it for once. The people we love? They’re never truly safe. There’s always a target on our backs, which means there’s a target on theirs.”

“Would you throw yourself in front of a bullet to save Blake?”

“Of course. I wish I’d had the opportunity to do that when Ekaterina shot her.”

“You think the average person has someone who’s willing to do that for them? I know this life is hard, Nero, but don’t be so fucking arrogant to think we’ve got it worse than everyone else. Sure, there’s always a target on our backs, but we have armies to protect the ones we love. We move mountains to keep them safe.”

I stay silent, absorbing his words.

“That man you’ve always wanted to be? A protector, a provider, a man who people respect? You are him, but not because you’re a mobster. Not because of some fucking label. How many made guys do you know who aren’t any of those things? You are that man because of your character and your actions. And I’m pretty fucking sure Blake can see that.”

“Then why did she leave?”

“Maybe she just needs some time to process what happened. Maybe it’s not over yet.”

I huff a breath. “I don’t need to torture myself with false hope.”

“Have a little faith.”

“You know I’m a fucking atheist.”

Rafe tsks. “Your nonna would be disappointed. Did Blake leave with her wedding ring still on?”

I think back to this morning. “She did.”

“Then maybe she’s not as sure about what she wants as you think.”

I pull my hand out of my pocket and look at my own gold wedding band. The one I put on myself at the jewelry store when I bought it along with Blake’s diamond band.

I wish Blake had slid it on my finger. I wish she’d smiled at me while she did it. I wish she’d kissed me afterward and said she loves me.

Too bad wishing for things doesn’t make them real.