Taming My Mafia Stepbrother

Cara’s pov

My leg tapped restlessly against the cold, hard floor, as strategies that would make every spy movie jealous swirled around in my head. My thumb mindlessly moved to my lips and I stopped myself just before I attacked the newly painted cuticle.

I was pacing the Salvatores’ foyer, ignoring the curious look Antonio, the Salvatores’ butler, was giving me. I focused on preparing myself for my mother’s cursed luncheon and plotting the most efficient Luca-free routes in the mansion.

I couldn’t run into him today. And if I do, I’ve prepared a box knife sitting readily in my clutch purse, waiting for me to slit my neck if the need arises.

“Is there anything I could help you with Signorina Cara?”

I whirled around to face him, “Antonio.”

“Yes, Signorina Cara?”

“Does Luca- I mean does the don come here frequently?”

“No Signorina.”

“Do you think he has any reason to be here today?”

Confusion lined Antonio’s face, he was probably wondering the reason for my random interrogation. “Not that I am aware of.”

A heavy weight left my chest and I released a long breath. That was relieving to hear. Eighty percent of my problem was gone.

“Where is my mother hosting her luncheon?” Now all that was left was to sit through the impending hell that was my mother and her friends’ company.

“At the patio Signorina.”

I smoothened the fabric of the green sundress I bought with my first paycheck from Rico’s. “It’s just lunch, can’t be that hard to endure.” I said under my breath.

“Pardon?” Came Antonio’s reply.

Gaining confidence from my self assuring speech, I turned to a befuddled Antonio, blew him a kiss and sauntered into the main house, moving through the path to the patio with an ease in my steps.Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

“Cara!” My mother gushed the moment I walked onto the patio, staring approvingly at my dress. It was pretty modest, to my standards that is. I had paired the off shoulder, knee length dress with my favourite platform sandals.

My fake smile appeared automatically as I let her usher me to the large dining table in the center of the ostentatiously decorated place.

“Ladies, you know my daughter, Cara,” my mother said and the delighted look on her face would have fooled me if I didn’t know otherwise.

I nodded politely at the seated women, shrinking and shifting uncomfortably under their judgy stares and silent scrutiny.

“Such a beautiful girl,” the youngest looking of the group was nice enough to mention. I smiled to show my appreciation, the blushing look on my face a contrast to my tightened grip on my purse.

Gina wasn’t among the five faces at the table and the tension in my body grew as I threw an alarmed look at my mother. Just what in the hell was this lunch about?

I fought the urge to scratch at the itching abrasion I had inflicted on my wrists. They worsened due to neglect, I was too fucked up yesterday to have the presence of mind to treat them. It was a good thing the long sleeves of my dress hid the horrible sight.

Thankfully, the women were done with me and I was allowed to mesh into the gathering fluidly, ignored, just the way I wanted.

Servers appeared with more food, deftly placing the dishes on the table before whooshing out just the way they had whooshed in. One of them stopped to whisper something in my mother’s ear before leaving and I didn’t miss the calculating smile that curled her lips. I wondered what the hell she was up to now.

My eyes coasted to the wine on the table and I considered pouring myself a heavy glass before post traumatic stress hit me. The last thing I needed was alcohol, who knows whose number I’d drunk-text.

“So what do you do?” A small woman in an uncomfortable looking tweed jacket said, breaking up the trivial gossip that was going on, her voice just as austere as her tight chignon.

Unease slipped beneath my skin, guess I wasn’t being ignored like I thought. “I- uh-”

“She’s still a student.” My mother provided beside me, patting softly on my tensed shoulder.

The woman on her other side scoffed, muttering in a heavy Italian accent about how unnecessary it was to send girls to school when they’d still end up in their husbands’ house. A vein popped in my head and I forced myself from sneering at her.

What era were we? The 18th century?

Uncomfortable tweed jacket took the information with a nod, her neck moving in stiff motions.

My mother shifted in her seat, obviously unsettled by the random question. It was only a matter of time before they asked something of which the answer would embarrass her and ruin the perfect persona she was trying to establish. Well that was entirely on her, she shouldn’t have brought me here in the first place.

Uncomfortable tweed jacket opened her mouth to ask another question, probably a follow up of her last like “what university do you go to?” but my mother had decided she was done with the interrogation.

“Cara dear, could you please go fetch my stress pills? I seemed to have forgotten it in the library.” She turned to her guests, “All that wedding preparations and charity planning is getting to me.”

The women nodded in understanding, probably relating a ton to her predicament. I fought an eye roll before facing my mother, my eyes narrowed warily. It was suspicious how her “stress pills” were conveniently sitting in the library of all places. My mother wasn’t a reader and even her pretentiousness could not get her to act like one.

She was staring at me expectantly so I got up and proceeded to go get the damned pills. I flashed the women a polite smile that announced my leave then headed back into the main house.

The journey from the patio to the library was unnecessarily long and it had me seething over why anyone would need a house this big. I passed through a curved hallway and two large living rooms, heaved up a flight of stairs, before getting to the hallway that contained the library and Manuel’s study.

My pulse skipped for two reasons: one, I was scared of running into my mother’s husband. Two, my mind flashed back to the night in the study.

Luckily, the avoidance gods were on my side today. I got to the library without running into a single soul.

Feeling happy and relieved, I swung the library door open and swayed inside, my movements more dramatic than a Broadway actor doing a solo musical. My mood was instantly ruined when I realized I hadn’t asked where exactly the stress pills was and I cursed under my breath, half thinking about where I was going to start searching for the teeny tiny bottle in a library as large as this. The space was two times larger than my entire apartment for fuck sake.

“Well fuck me,” I muttered aloud before whirling to my right to begin my treasure hunt.

All two hundred and six bones in my body went rigid. Ten pairs of eyes were watching me in amusement, holding me in place as whatever business they had been up to was now temporarily set aside.

My throat bobbed as I swallowed a gulp of mortification, my anxiety spreading across my body in tingles.

Cadain cleared his throat but I knew it was a chuckle he was trying to disguise. His eyes shone with humor and his smile was warm. My eyes coasted to the man sitting by him, a man I instantly pegged as the Irish boss from his striking resemblance to Cadain. He also had a glint of humor in his eyes but unlike Cadain’s, his made me squirm.

My gaze traveled through the rest of the unfamiliar men in formal suits, each of them oozing a darkness of the underworld before landing on the man sitting at the head, a deadly expression on his handsome face.

My heart went into overdrive and I couldn’t stop the punch to my guts the sight of Luca caused. The cold fury in his stare was chilling and heating my skin at the same time, sending my mortification through the roof.

It suddenly occurred to me that I had been played by my mother. There was no stress pills, she just wanted to send me to the wolves for whatever fucked up reason she had. I threw Cadain a quick glance and I suspected it had something to do with him.

“Well what do we have here?” One of the men said and I squirmed even harder.

If I didn’t leave now, I’d get pulverized under the weight of Luca’s gaze. So I cleared my throat and mustered up an apology. “I’m sorry to have-” I paused to search for the right words, “interrupted your meeting.”

I hopped from foot to foot, the thick tension in the air seeping into the ground beneath my platform sandals. “Um… I just gonna… leave and uh… as you were.” I motioned with a lift of my hands before pivoting on one foot and dashing out of there, and I didn’t look back once.