Indebted to the Mafia King

*Cal*

Having Heidi in the same room as me this entire time has proven to be nothing but a bad idea. Even though she's left, her scent lingers in the air, which makes it almost impossible for me to focus on anything other than her right now. I'm glad she accepted my help. Giving her a new apartment isn't the only thing I wanted to do for her, but it does lessen my guilt to know she'll be safe and able to get back on her feet with a roof over her head.

I wish things hadn't gone bad for her in the first place, but since I have no control over the past, I might as well accept this is all I can do for her-for now.

Sure, I can give her way more than just an apartment, but considering how hard it was for her to accept that, I doubt she will even listen to any other offers. I think I can get her to open up to me eventually, although I have to be patient and careful.

She doesn't seem to trust people easily, and I can't pretend I didn't notice how skeptical and suspicious she was around me the whole time she was here.

I also noticed a certain uneasiness, and a selfish part of me wants to believe it has something to do with the connection I felt between us. Heidi seemed somewhat uncomfortable to be feeling the same thing, almost as if she was trying to fight herself, if the way her cheeks reddened and her body stiffened are any indication.

I drop myself onto the couch she has just vacated, regretting it immediately. The scent of her sweet, intoxicating perfume is stronger here than anywhere else in this room.

I need to leave my office before I go insane.

I have so much work to do-especially finding out who the fuck attacked my bar, but my brain isn't able to focus lately. I should be able to get shit done now that I know Heidi is safe and out of harm's way, but seeing her has triggered feelings I've been trying to keep buried.

Whenever I close my eyes, I imagine how it would feel to have my fingers tangled in her smooth, long hair, what it would feel like to have my lips on her soft porcelain skin, and how great it'd be to hear her moan my name, begging me to fuck her into oblivion-

Get your shit together, Cal!

"Fuck!" I murmur to myself, propping my elbows on my knees and rubbing my face with my hands, frustrated.

I need to vent all of this pent up energy.

I'll definitely go nuts if I remain here.

Pushing myself off of the couch, I walk out of my office and head for the second door on my left. I've never been more grateful that I built a gym inside the bar than right now.

The room is smaller than the one I have at home, but it serves its purpose. It's helped me on the most difficult days when I need to keep my head clear to make the right decisions.

I have added some dumbbells, pull-up bars, a bench press, and a punching bag. An hour or two in here should do the trick.

Slamming the door behind me, I don't even bother turning on the lights. I strip out of my leather jacket and shirt, toss them over the bench press, and head for the punching bag. Before I start, wrap my hands to prevent myself from splitting my knuckles.

The first few punches aren't so sharp. My mind is still foggy with images of Heidi I need to force away. But when I get the hang of it, my body starts getting familiar with the movements, and I lose count of how many punches I've thrown. A knock on the door takes my mind off the training. I snap my head back to see Sam peeking his head into the room.

"Is everything all right, Boss?" he asks, his tone firm despite the little smirk on his lips. "Why are you training in the fucking dark?"

I grit my teeth, already knowing what's coming my way.

Fucking Ian might have told him what happened.

I groan in response, unwrapping my hands and heading for the pull up bar. I hear Sam walk inside and close the door behind him, and through my peripheral vision I see him sliding my jacket off the bench press and sitting down, facing me. "Little bird told me you had a visit earlier," he begins, his tone teasing.

If I had a dollar for every time my assumptions about him were right, I'd be fucking retired right now.

"That little bird seems to want to have his tongue cut off," I retort through clenched teeth, my frustration making a comeback.

Sam chuckles but isn't done teasing me. "Am I right to assume things went badly, judging by your foul mood?" he asks, testing the water. "Not exactly."

"Ian told me she was quite determined to hold you responsible for the damages to her store," Sam continues, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

I turn my head in his direction, my brows raising with amusement. "So your little bird has a name then, huh?" I joke, getting flipped off in return.

I laugh and throw my head back, grateful for the distraction. Sam always knows how to make me feel better whenever I'm in a sour mood. He's not just my second, he's my best friend, and for good reason.

"So, are you going to tell me what has you throwing punches in the middle of the afternoon, or should I make the assumption based on what I heard?" He gets to his feet and walks toward me, leaning against the wall and facing me with his arms crossed over his chest.

I grab the bar above my head with a firm grip and pull myself up, my muscles straining with the effort. My movements are fluid, although I'm still slightly distracted. "Heidi has made a-" I grunt after my thirtieth pull-up, "a great impression." "So, Bookgirl finally has a name." Sam laughs.

I pull myself up again, my chin barely reaching above the bar this time. I'm getting tired, but my brain seems to think I'm high or some shit like that. It's like I need to drain myself of all the energy bottled up inside. I don't answer him. "Okay, so what else? Did she put up a fight and win you over?"

"Exactly."

I drop down on the floor, wiping my hands on my pants. Leaning against the bar to catch my breath, I watch as Sam walks to the mini fridge next to him and grabs a bottle of water. He throws it at me, and I catch it mid air, thanking him with a nod. I ignore his teasing look as I gulp down half the liquid in the bottle.noveldrama

I'm contemplating the idea of keeping my conversation with Heidi from him, but if anyone would be able to help me navigate these stupid emotions I'm feeling, that someone would be him.

There's no one in this world who knows me better than Sam. And although I hate his teasing and fucking smirks, I know it comes from a good place in his heart.

"She demanded that I take responsibility for the explosion, but I don't think she was expecting me to accept it so quickly," I explain, taking deep breaths to compose myself. "When she realized I wouldn't put up a fight or ignore her completely, she started crying, explaining to me how she lost everything..."

"Everything?" Sam frowns. "I mean, I know the place is beyond repair, but-"

"She lived in the apartment upstairs," I tell him. "The insurance company is not giving her any useful information on when or how much they'll pay for the damages yet, and apparently, she has nowhere to live." "Fuck," Sam murmurs, more to himself than to me.

"Yeah." I nod. "I have Jackson looking for a place for her right now. It took her a while to accept my offer, but ultimately, she accepted my help."

"That's nice of you," Sam replies.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand. "It's the least I could do. She lost everything because of a fucking enemy of ours. And although we have no clue who did it yet, I couldn't let her get back on her feet by herself. It wasn't her fault." I walk toward the locker on the left wall and grab a towel to better wipe the sweat dripping down my face and neck. I need a fucking shower, and perhaps a cold one will do the trick, finally wiping Heidi's image from my mind. "Well, if she accepted the apartment, why are you working out like your life depends on it?"

I clench my jaw, knowing this question would come at some point during this conversation. I consider telling him that I can't stop picturing Heidi in my bed, but I don't want to provide that much information.

So instead, I say, "I'm just uneasy with this situation. We need to find out who did this. We still haven't gotten any leads?"

Sam's expression darkens instantly as he realizes it's no longer the time to be teasing or fucking around.

"Not really. We're trying to track down some of the Belgian guys from our last run-in, but to be honest, I don't think they're behind it," Sam informs me. "It's not really their style to cause that much of a mess. The Russians? Maybe, but they had it out for the Italians, not us."

I nod, agreeing with him. The negotiation with the Belgians was our last business deal that went somewhat bad, but we didn't finish it with a disagreement. I don't think they would have caused this much trouble over it, anyway. They're like us-the little guys. The groups that get the scraps leftover from the Italians and Russians who run New York City. And Sam's right, it's not their leader's style to blow a place up like that.

Hitting dead ends over and over during our investigation has put me and my men on edge this entire week. It's like we're constantly waiting for the next bomb to drop, not even knowing what direction it will come from.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I fish it out. There's a text from an unknown number, and I almost consider ignoring it. If it wasn't for the imminent threat we're facing, I'd probably delete it.

But something tells me this is important, so I open it.

My blood freezes in my veins as my eyes take in the picture on my screen. Heidi is walking out of my bar, wearing her long coat, black boots, and green scarf. It was taken an hour ago when she left my office. There's nothing else attached to the message. No threat, no text, no nothing.

Only her picture.

And that's enough to send me raging again.