Breaking the Heartless Capo

Protection

Roman sat beside her in the back of the sedan, his mind uncharacteristically chaotic. She smells so damn good, he thought, shifting in his seat. He wanted to be inside her again right then and there, a level of raw, immediate obsession that was entirely foreign to him. She was by far the best f**k he had ever had in every imaginable way—from the fierce way she kissed, to the effortless depth of her throat, to how tightly she clenched around him when he was inside her.

Reaching over, Roman slid his large hand onto her bare thigh. Syrene immediately parted her legs for him. A faint, amused twitch caught the corner of his lip. So submissive when it counts, he mused.

He slid his hand further up her thigh, his long fingers finding her slick center and teasing her c**t. Syrene let out a low, helpless moan, her fingers locking around his forearm as she searched for something to anchor herself to.

Just as her breath hitched, the sedan smoothly rolled to a stop at the curb.

Fuck, Roman cursed internally, irritated by the timing.

He slowly withdrew his hand, brought his slick fingers to his nose to inhale her scent, and then licked them completely clean, his dark gaze locked onto her bright green eyes the entire time.

"Okay," Roman said, his voice dropping into its usual smooth, commanding tone. "Movers will be at your apartment at eight in the morning. They're going to pack and handle everything. You and your brother will have a car waiting to take you straight to your new place."

Syrene's composed mask almost slipped. Almost.

"Okay, Roman," she replied smoothly.

She opened the passenger door and stepped out into the night air. Just as her heels hit the pavement, her phone chimed loudly from inside her clutch.

Roman leaned across the leather seat, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Is that your phone, Syrene?"

"Yeah," she said simply, shutting the car door without offering another word. What is it any of his business if my phone rings? she thought bitterly.

Opening her clutch, she pulled out the device and tapped the screen. The text on the display sent a wave of icy horror straight to her heart. It was a message from the debt collectors—the same ruthless monsters who had murdered her parents six years ago:

You have one week to pay the remaining balance in full, or you can watch your brother die before we turn you into a dirty w***e. One week.

Syrene swallowed hard, her throat instantly dry. I can't possibly pay this off in a week, she panicked silently. Even with Roman's contract, it's not enough time.

Tossing her phone back into her clutch, she glanced back toward the sedan, only to find Roman leaning against the open window, his dark eyes burning a hole straight through her.

"Is everything okay, Syrene?" he asked, his tone dangerously sharp.

"No, it's not," she snapped, dropping her playful mask entirely. Exhaustion and sheer terror bled through her voice. "But it doesn't concern you."

She turned on her heel to head into her building, but the car door slammed open behind her. Before she could take two steps, Roman hopped out of the sedan, caught her by the wrist, and spun her back around to face him.

"For one year, you belong to me—every single part of you," Roman growled, towering over her. "We signed an exclusive agreement. Was that a guy messaging you?"

Syrene stared up at him in utter disbelief. Is this guy serious right now? Is he actually acting jealous?

"It's not a boyfriend, and it's not a client," she said, her green eyes flashing with defiant exhaustion. "It really doesn't matter. I'll figure it out myself. Now, can I please go, or are you still in need of my services, Roman?"

Roman stared down at her, his grip on her wrist tightening for a brief second before he slowly released her. His gaze softened just a fraction, a rare crack appearing in his hardened exterior.

"If you need help with something, you ask me," he said, his voice quiet but absolute. You're under my protection. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand," she replied softly.

"Good," Roman said, a faint smirk returning to his lips. "Now get lost."

Syrene fought the urge to roll her eyes—knowing it would only lead to another confrontation she didn't have the energy for. She turned and walked briskly into her building lobby.

As the glass doors closed behind her, she leaned her forehead against the cool wall of the elevator, taking a shuddering breath. How the hell am I going to last a whole year dealing with this arrogant asshole... especially with a target on my back?

Back inside her apartment, Syrene leaned her back against the front door, letting out a ragged sigh.

Fuck, I just want to stop having these constant worries about a debt that shouldn't even exist, she thought bitterly. They murdered my parents... that debt should have been wiped clean! How do I still owe them anything?

Anger flared hot in her chest. She stomped into her bedroom, slammed the door shut, and collapsed face-first onto her bed. Burying her face in the pillow, her thoughts instantly drifted back to Roman.

Fuck... I can still feel his hands on my body and his lips on mine. This man is going to ruin me. What the hell was I thinking, signing a one-year contract with a Mafia Capo?

After letting her mind clear, she forced herself up to take a long, hot shower. Shortly after she finished drying off, a firm knock sounded at the door—the movers had arrived right on schedule.

Chris wandered out of his bedroom, rubbing his eyes as he looked around at the crew laying down floor covers. "What's going on, Syrene? Are we moving or something?"

Syrene knelt down in front of him, keeping her voice light and reassuring. "I was offered a job, sweetie. It's a one-year contract, and I'll be on call—which means I might have to leave suddenly sometimes, just like I did last night. But the best part? It comes with a rent-free penthouse. Everything is fully paid for the entire year, okay, buddy?"

Chris stared at his sneakers, giving a weak shrug. "Okay, Syrene. Whatever you say."

"Chris, come on," she softly begged, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Something is bothering you. Talk to me, please."

"I'm just tired, I guess," he mumbled, pulling back slightly. "I'll go pack."

Syrene caught his arm, gently turning him to face her. "Listen to me... you can tell me anything, okay? It's not good to keep everything bottled up inside." She searched his eyes, trying to read the quiet anxiety hiding beneath his pale expression. Pulling him into a tight, warm hug, she pressed a long kiss to the top of his head. "Tell you what... let's go get some ice cream. The movers are going to pack everything up for us anyway."

Chris looked up, his eyes widening slightly. "Really?"

"Yes, really," she laughed softly. "Go change your clothes, and we'll head out."

Stepping out of the apartment building a few minutes later, Syrene instantly spotted the sleek black sedan idling by the curb. The moment they cleared the front doors, Marco hopped out of the driver's seat, walked around to open the back passenger door, and offered her a polite smile.

"Come on," Syrene told her brother, gesturing toward the car. "That's our ride."

They slid into the plush leather back seat, and Marco shut the door behind them before jogging back around to the driver's side.

"Where to, Miss?" Marco asked, checking her reflection in the rearview mirror.

"We want to get some ice cream," she said.

Marco nodded with a small smile. "Okay, I know just the spot." He shifted into drive and pulled smoothly into the city traffic.

Chris leaned over, whispering loudly to his sister. "Is this part of your new job, too? Having a personal chauffeur?"

"Yeah... I guess you could say that," Syrene replied with a smirk, giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

A few minutes later, Marco pulled up in front of a colorful, classic ice cream parlor. As he reached to undo his seatbelt, Syrene leaned forward. "Marco, just sit tight. I can get the door myself."

Marco hesitated, clearly remembering Roman's strict orders, but seeing her firm look, he nodded. "Alright, Miss. I'll be right out here."

Syrene and Chris walked into the sweet-smelling shop and took a spot in line. "You can get whatever you want," she told him.

Chris looked up at her, suspicious. "Anything, really? You promise?"

Second-guessing her budget for a split second before remembering Roman's black card tucked safely in her purse, she took a deep breath and smiled. "Yes, really. Whatever you want."

The woman behind the counter offered them a bright smile as they stepped up. "Hi there! What can I get for you today?"

"I want three scoops of double chocolate in a waffle bowl, with extra hot fudge on top, please!" Chris blurted out, licking his lips eagerly.

Syrene looked down at her brother, shaking her head with a fond laugh. "You know what? I'll get the exact same thing, but just two scoops for me, please."

"Coming right up," the woman nodded, turning to prepare the orders.

"Chris, go find us a table to sit at. I'll bring the bowls over when they're ready, okay?"

"Ok, sis!" he said brightly, darting off toward a booth near the front window.

Syrene watched him go, a rare moment of peace settling in her chest. But as she reached into her bag to pay, her phone chimed in her clutch—a stark, chilling reminder that no matter how sweet the afternoon seemed, Roman's world and her father's dangerous debts were still waiting right outside the door.