Devil’s Thirst: A Mafia Stalker Romance (The Moretti Men Book 1)
Devil’s Thirst: Chapter 11

Lina and I make it a priority to meet up for lunch about once a week with our former nanny, Gloria. She was our de facto mom growing up and gave us the love our parents never did. I hate to think what a disaster our lives would be if we hadn’t had her.

While Lina and I can see each other anytime since we live in the same building, Gloria still lives in the small apartment she’s always lived in some twenty minutes away. Life gets busy. We want to make sure we set aside time to see her, thus, girls’ lunch.

Today, we meet at a cute sandwich shop and have the pleasure of little Violet’s company as well. Gloria and I both love when she tags along, but it makes lunch noticeably more harried for Lina. She assured me on our way over that she’s feeling better since I saw her last. I’m glad, but I’ll do my best to help with the little cutie and give Lina a break.

Once we’ve given Gloria hugs and are settled at our table, Lina gives Violet a cracker to gnaw on.

“She’s getting so big,” Gloria says with love creasing the corners of her eyes. “Reminds me so much of you girls when you were little.”

Vi dangles the cracker over the floor and shoots a sly look at her mother. Lina gives her a warning rumble from the back of her throat.

Hearing my signal, I snatch the cracker and send Violet into a fit of giggles.

“You see her, Mama G. Surely we weren’t that sassy as babies,” Lina says with exasperation.

Gloria’s head tips back as laughter bubbles up from deep in her chest. “Oh, mija. That’s not sassy. That’s just being a baby.”

Violet slaps her hands on the table with a squeal of joy, then goes still, her face turning red with strain. No guesswork is needed to know she’s making a mess of her diaper. Now I’m laughing hysterically with Gloria, and Lina’s shaking her head but can’t stop a smile from spreading across her face.

“Yup, just a baby,” Gloria confirms.

“I don’t mind changing her,” I offer honestly.

“No, it’s okay. Really. Won’t take me but two minutes.” Lina stands and collects her squirming bundle of joy, who is now proudly announcing “poo poo” to everyone in the restaurant.

“I wish I could be more help,” I tell Gloria once Lina has disappeared to the back of the shop. “She has so much on her plate.”

“Me, too, mija. If my sciatica didn’t give me such trouble, I’d watch the little one more often for her.”

“You do plenty, Mama G.”

“At least you girls have one another. It’s the one decent thing your mother did for you.” Gloria knew our mother lacked maternal instinct but didn’t know the true depths of her depravity until Mom took Gloria hostage to manipulate Lina. That was the day both my parents were killed. It needed to happen, but I’m glad I wasn’t there to witness it like Lina and Gloria. I can’t imagine how awful that would have been.

“I hadn’t thought about it like that, but I suppose you’re right.” I can feel Gloria studying me, prompting me to look over at her. “What?”

“Are you taking care of yourself, Mellie girl? I think maybe you’re practicing too much and not eating enough.” Worry is etched in the furrowed creases of her forehead.

I smile reassuringly and squeeze her hand. “I promise I’m doing fine. We’re practicing a lot, but that’s because the show starts in less than three weeks.”

“Yes! I’m so excited for you. Lina already got us tickets for opening night.”

“I told you guys I could get you tickets.”

She shrugs. “You know your sister. She wanted to do it herself.”

I’m suddenly overwhelmed with love for my tiny family. Being surrounded by a thriving family tree of relations who offer a sense of belonging sounds very appealing, but what my family lacks in size, it makes up for in quality. I need to remember to be more grateful for my blessings rather than focus on what I lack. Like my ability to keep them safe and make them happy. Sometimes I forget that my choices aren’t a burden but an honor.

If I can keep The Society at bay, I’ll do it. Whatever the cost.

“Go home, goober. You’ve practiced enough,” Hazel chides me as she packs up her sewing bag.

“I’m not staying long, promise.” I raise my right hand with my pledge.

According to the director, the lighting crew will be working in the rafters for hours. I’ll have people around, and the choreographer changed up a sequence of mine, so I’d feel better if I could get in a few repetitions while it’s fresh in my mind.

“Good. No reason to wear yourself out before the show even starts.”

“Thirty minutes max, Scout’s honor.”

She flicks a thumbs-up, then heads for the door. “Text me.”

“Will do!”

I keep my word and stick to a short session focused on the new steps. While on stage, I feel the presence of someone watching, but several techs are moving around behind the scenes. It’s hard to know where the sensation is coming from.

When I call it a night, I pause, letting my gaze scour the shadows at the back of the theater.

“Is someone there?” I call out, giving in to my need to know.

My question is met with silence until a voice with a heavy New York accent slices through the air from above. “You talkin’ to me?”

It’s so unexpected that my heart launches itself into my throat.

“Oh! No, sorry,” I yell back, hand over the pounding in my chest.

I don’t like this.

People are around me, but I can’t see them. I can’t tell who is supposed to be here and who may be a dangerous stalker. I need to leave, but I realize how poorly I’ve thought through this now that it’s time to get my things and go outside. I was so concentrated on not being alone in the building that I hadn’t put thought into how I’d get out of the building. I can call a cab, but that would still require me to walk outside alone. I’ve done that plenty of times before, but not since knowing the stalker followed me home.

Could he be waiting for me outside?

I stop near the thick velvet curtain and peer into the shadows toward the dressing room. What if he’s waiting for me again? The lighting crew is around, but could they hear me from the dressing room if I yelled? How well soundproofed is it back there?

I can’t do it.

Sticking around was a bad decision, and while I won’t repeat the mistake, I need to replace a way to safely get home, and not just a ride. I need someone to come into the theater and escort me out.

I give myself props for at least being smart enough to keep my phone with me. I move closer to the safety of the stage lights and call my sister.

“Guess I know what that diaper explosion was about earlier today,” Lina says after our hellos. “Little Miss is running a fever. I think she has an ear infection.”

It’s hard to hear her over the wailing baby. My heart hurts for them both.

“Oh no! Poor thing.”

“Yeah, and Oran is in Jersey on business for the night. I got the family doctor on the phone, and she’s going to come by sometime in the next hour. Hopefully, she has antibiotics with her, or it’ll be a long, miserable night for both of us.” The family doctor is the pediatrician the Byrnes pay to be on-call for house visits.

“I bet she gets you all taken care of,” I assure her, striking Lina off my list of possible rides.

“Did you need something, or were you just calling to check in?”

“Just checking in. I’ll let you go. Give my sweetie Vi lots of kisses.”

“Will do. Wish me luck,” she says with a sigh.

“You got this.”

We end the call, and I consider who to turn to next. I could call one of Lina’s sisters-in-law, but most of them have little ones, too. I’m probably closest to Stormy, but she’s been having wicked morning sickness. With two other little ones to deal with, I hate to bother her or her husband.

I shoot a quick text to Hazel and confirm that she’s already on a train out of the city. While I’m lucky enough to afford a spacious one-bedroom apartment in the center of Manhattan, most of the people I work with live very different lifestyles than me. It’s yet another of the many differences that single me out from the people around me.

My disheartened gaze drifts to the faint remnants of numbers still inked on my inner wrist. I put Isaac’s number in my phone already but couldn’t bring myself to scrub away the evidence of one of the most erotic moments of my life.

Could I ask him for a ride? Wasn’t that the whole reason he gave me his number? He said to call if I felt unsafe. Does this count, or would he think I’m being silly?

This is your safety. Who cares what he thinks?

Yeah, but texting him so soon after he gave me his number will send the wrong message.

What message is that? That you appreciate his help?

I was more worried about him thinking I’m desperate and alone.

My inner debate partner goes silent.

Okay, that’s rude.

The truth hurts sometimes.

I scowl and send a text before I chicken out.

Me: Hey Isaac, it’s Amelie. Any chance you could come get me at the theater?

Isaac: What’s the address?

A breath I didn’t know I was holding whooshes past my lips.

Me: I’m at the Metropolitan Opera House

Me: Thank you. I’m sorry to bother you.

Isaac: Wouldn’t have given you my number if I didn’t want you to use it.

Isaac: Your stalker show up?

I type out a phony explanation before erasing all but one word and hitting send.

Me: No

Isaac: Lie to me again, and I’ll bend you over my knee.

I’m so stunned by his reply and embarrassingly turned on that it takes me a solid minute to respond.

Me: I’ll replace someone else to give me a ride.

Isaac: You ride anyone else, and you’ll get worse than a spanking.

If my eyes rounded any wider, they’d fall right out of their sockets. It’s the most presumptive, domineering thing a man has ever said to me, and I’ve never heard anything hotter. I shouldn’t like it. I will never admit to him how his words have affected me, but I can’t lie to myself. My core is so swollen with need that I can hardly keep from squirming.

The longer you wait to reply, he’ll know what you’re thinking.

I shake off my disbelief and text back my reply.

Me: THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT AND YOU KNOW IT

Isaac: Still applies. Be there in ten.

Holy freaking crap. What have I gotten myself into?