????????MAFIA POSSESSION ????????
( HIS ADDICTION ????)
BY, ROYAL DIADEM ❣️
CHAPTER 2
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(CAROLINE ????)
CAROLINE LOVED the smell of Columbian coffee. She didn’t particularlylike the taste, but it could be disguised with almond milk and sugar and two
pumps of vanilla and a tower of whipped cream. She li-cked a bit ofwhipped cream off the top of her drink as she sat down at her usual table inthe corner of the coffee shop. The corner with a good view of the door, easyaccess to the bathroom, and a window because her doctor said if she shutherself up in her office all day she was likely to be vitamin D deficient andthat could cause bigger health problems. Carolinedidn’t have time forbigger health problems. She had deadlines that couldn’t wait for somethingas trivial as fatigue and muscle weakness and compromised immune systems.
She set her laptop on the table and opened it, the stickers on the backproclaiming her a fan of the Buffalo Bills and Johnny Cash. The ambiance
of the coffee shop settled her mind. The calm bustle of people on their wayto work, an intern trying very ha-rd to remember everyone’s order, a groupof college kids worried about the chemistry exam, a man on the phonewishing his mistress a happy birthday while his wife picked up their order,at least two other writers tapping away on their laptops working on the next
big blockbuster film.
Caroline li-cked more whipped cream off the top of her drink and fli-ppedbetween her notes and the article that needed editing before she turned it in.Her most recent article on the Morettis was mostly finished, just neededsome proofreading and finessing. She dropped her head onto one hand a-sshe scrolled throu-ghit, fixing typos. She’d been after the Morrettis foryears. Years and she still had nothing concrete. Oh, she’d been close more than a few times. She’d been on the very edge of having all the evidenceshe needed. But every time, every damn time, they’d sli-p throu-ghher
fingers back into smoke and mirrors. They were good at covering theirtracks. They kept themselves clean, polished off any dirt she managed tosling at them like it was nothing. The daughter was married to the Presidentof the United States, they had a very successful legitimate business to coverup any misdeeds, and a charitable foundation to keep public opinion high.
But Caroline knew. Even if she couldn’t convince anyone else, she knewthat the Moretti family was evil incarnate and would turn everything theytouched into the same charred, twisted horrors that they were.
She was staring a hole into her computer screen, so she didn’t look upwhen someone sat down across from her. “Good morning.”
Her head snapped up quickly enough to give her whiplash because shewasn’t expecting the de-ep voice that speak to her, but when she registeredexactly who was sitting just across the table, all the air left her lungs andher stomach plummeted below the subway tracks that crisscrossed underthe whole city. Luca Moretti. She knew him. She knew them all. She had to;
it was part of her job. But she’d never been this close to him, to any ofthem, and the knowledge she had of what they did made her blood run cold.
But those facts were a complete antithesis with the man sitting in front ofher, totally innocuous with a slight smile softening his features. Thecognitive dissonance was enough to wipe every word from her mind.
Luca was the pretty one, in Caroline’s opinion. They were all attractivein their own ways. Giovanni looked like the man you want to bring home toyour parents, and the twins were the rugged, ‘bad boy’ kind of handsomeyou find in cologne ads. But Luca had finer features, a sharply angled jaw,fuller li-ps, and neatly arched eyebrows. Not feminine, but somehow ‘pretty’
was the right word. There was intensity behind his eyes as he looked at her,like he could see right into her soul, but nothing about his posture or his
expression was remotely threatening. That made everything about himthreatening.
The hairs on her arms were standing on end and a chill trickled downthe back of her neck, over each vertebrate of her spine, and settled with her
stomach at the bottom of the subway. She swallowed her fear and put on herreporter face.
“Hello,” she said. Her hands trembled in her lap and she stuckthem under her legs to stop her charm bracelet from jingling and givingaway her nerves. There were very few reasons for Luca Moretti to seek her out, and none of them ended well for her. She li-cked her li-ps and tried tosmile.
“I’m Emily,” she said. Emily Hendriks was one of a few aliases sheused over the years, and the name rolled easily off her tongue.
Amusement flashed across his face and he offered his hand to shake.
“It’s nice to meet you… Emily.” Another shiver seized her when he said thatname. He might have noticed, but he didn’t comment. She knew he couldcall her bluff. He absolutely knew who she was, but she felt better having abarrier between him and her identity. Just like pulling the blankets up overyour head won’t stop the murderer you’ve imagined is in your bedroom, but
it’s still comforting to have that layer of protection, however useless.
Helowered his head respectfully.
“My name is Luca.”
She expected him to use a fake name too, and his honesty caught her offguard. She hesitantly pulled her hand from under her thigh to shake his. Sheknew in the logical part of her brain that he was a human and notdemon who would burn her when she touched him, but the warm of his handshake still surprised her.Flesh and bone. Even the mafia was justflesh and bone and blood.He tilted his head to one side and looked at the back of her laptop.
“What are you doing?”
She laughed purely out of panicked nervousness. “Just work.”
He sat forward, with a look not unlike a puppy. If a hellhound whocould rip your face off and use it to play fetch was a puppy.
“What’s work?”he asked,
“What do you do, Emily?”
Caroline hated the way he said ‘Emily’. But she thought she would hatethe way he would say ‘Caroline’ worse, so she slowly closed her laptop andrested her hand on top of it, nervously tracing the edge of a sticker with herfinger.
“I’m a writer,” she said, hoping against hope that he would take thevague answer and leave her alone.
No such luck.
“What kind of writer?” Any outside observer would thinkthis was a coffee date from the rapt attention he was giving her. He was allwarmth and smiles and charm. Her thinly veiled terror could probably be
mistaken for flustered attraction. That thought put an unintentional wrinklebetween her eyebrows, and he most definitely noticed.She glanced around the coffee shop, anywhere but his face.
“I writescreenplays,” she lied to the sign in the window advertising a new fruitsmoothie.
Luca’s smile was about 1000 wats. And hiding sharp, pointed teeth thatcould rip her still-beating heart from her chest without hesitation.
“Ohreally?” He sounded nothing but pleasantly interested, but every alarm inCaroline’s mind was going off. Danger. Warning. Get out.
“What sort ofmovies do you write?”
Her fingers curled on her laptop.
“Thrillers.” Her heartbeat thunderedpast her ears like she belonged in a thriller. Her brain suddenly found the
need to remind her of all the kind, charming serial killers there were in theworld. She clenched her teeth and tried to remember how to breathe.He nodded importantly.
“Crime drama thrillers. That’s where all themoney is these days.”
Caroline couldn’t stay here any longer. She pretended to check herphone, then put it to her ear.
“Sorry, it’s my Mom, I have to go.” She threw
her laptop in her bag and slung it over her shoulder, babbling,
“Hi mom,everything is fine, how are you?” into her dark phone. She spun so quicklyto get away from the friendly-looking mafia man, her shoe caught on the
corner of the rug and she tripped.
Luca was there helping her up before she could scramble away. Hepressed her forgotten cup of Columbian coffee into her hands and dusted
some imaginary dirt off her shoulder. His kind expression never faltered ashe said intimately, “Careful, Caroline. You never know who’s watching.”
Caroline’s blood ran cold. Despite the kind tone and the gentle action, itwas a threat. She definitely hated the way he said ‘Caroline’ much morethan the way he said “Emily.” Of course he knew who she was. Why else
would he seek her out? She knew she was playing a dangerous game, and itwas only a matter of time before the Morettis sent someone to silence her.
She pressed her li-ps together tightly. Breathing in the soothing smell ofcoffee and pastries did nothing for her nerves when she was staring into thedark intensity of Luca Moretti’s eyes. Caroline spun on her heel and all butsprinted out of the coffee shop.
TBC