The Mafia Boss's First Love

Chapter 04

The moment Elijah stepped into his manor, his long legs carried him swiftly up the grand staircase. He paid no mind to Vito and Casimiro, who sat in the quiet parlor below, his gaze fixed solely on the corridor leading to his quarters. Without pause, he pushed through his bedroom door and made straight for the en-suite bathroom, twisting the faucet of the marble sink to splash cold water across his face.

When he lifted his eyes to the mirror, he saw exactly what Lorenzo had pointed out earlier—his cheeks and ears were flushed a deep, undeniable red.

"What the f**k is this?" he growled, his fingers brushing over his chest where his heart still hammered against his ribs.

"What in hell is happening to me? Why does my damn heart race like this over one woman? Is this some twisted side effect of her damn punch?" Elijah muttered to himself, and suddenly Samara's face flooded his mind—those sharp eyes, that fierce set of her jaw, all so close he could almost feel the heat of her breath just hours before.

"What the hell? Could she have cursed me?" He raked a hand through his dark hair, his voice rising with frustration. "I should have punished her for striking me… so why couldn't I bring myself to do it? What is wrong with me?"

He slammed a fist against the counter, then spun on his heel and stormed out of the bathroom. The unease in his gut was almost unbearable.

"Should I just kill her to make this feeling go away?" he whispered, snatching his phone from the nightstand and dialing Lorenzo's number.

The line barely rang twice before his subordinate answered.

"Yes, Il Capo?"

"Have you and Deo left the club yet?" Elijah's voice was tight, clipped.

"Penecarte the First and I just got in the car, sir. Did you have a task for us?" Lorenzo asked.

Tell them to kill her. The words sat heavy on his tongue, ready to spill—but for some reason, they wouldn't come.

"Il Capo?"

"Forget it—turn around and get back to the manor now." Elijah cut the call before Lorenzo could question him further, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached.

"Am I… hesitating?" he breathed, just as a soft knock sounded at his door.

"Señor? Ms. Soleil Carvajal is here to see you."

Elijah's brow furrowed at the name. The woman claimed he'd saved her life, though he had no memory of it. He'd turned her away countless times, even threatened to have her barred—but somehow, she always found her way back to his doorstep.

"Tell her to leave. I don't allow strangers in my home."

"Why not speak with the girl, señor? She means no harm."

Elijah crossed the room and pulled open the door to find Corazon—his oldest staff member, the woman who'd raised him after he'd lost his parents at ten years old. He owed her everything, and she was the only one who dared speak to him this way.

"She is a stranger, Corazon."

"I know that, but there's no harm in hearing her out. Besides… you're not a boy anymore. Don't you think it's time you found someone to share your life with?" She smiled warmly, and Elijah let out a long sigh before heading for the stairs.

Corazon fell into step behind him. He would face this unwanted guest—if only to make her leave for good.

"Ms. Carvajal is a lovely young woman, señor. Why not give her a chance to know you?"

"I have no interest in knowing any women, Corazon. They're nothing but a nuisance." The words were out before he could stop them—and then Samara's face flashed through his mind again.

"But you need someone by your side—"

"That's enough." Elijah stopped short and turned to face her, his voice firm but not unkind. "I'm grateful you've stayed with me all these years. But I don't need you to tell me who to marry—or who to let into my life."

He turned and continued down the stairs, where Soleil already stood chatting with Vito and Casimiro. The moment Vito spotted him, Soleil's head snapped up, and a bright smile spread across her lips.

"Elij—"

"Mr. Penelton." His voice was cold as ice, cutting her off mid-word. "I haven't given you permission to use my first name. Don't presume familiarity where there is none."

The smile faltered on her face. "I'm sorry, Mr. Penelton. But when will you let me call you by your name?"

"Never. Now—why the hell are you here?"

"I made you food." She hurried to the table and picked up a paper bag, holding it out to him with hopeful eyes. "I wanted to thank you for saving me… even if it's just with something small."

"I don't eat garbage made by people who don't belong here."

"Señor, that's not fair to our guest—"

"This is my manor. I'll speak and act as I please." Elijah's gaze never left Soleil's face as Corazon fell silent, while Vito and Casimiro stood still as statues—they'd long since grown used to their leader's brutal honesty.

"Why are you so cold to me?" Soleil's voice trembled slightly. "I only want to get close to you because you gave me a second chance at life. I truly believe we were meant to meet."

Elijah stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. "Listen carefully. I don't remember 'saving' you—I don't even remember hearing your name until you started showing up here. So why would I want to 'get close' to someone I don't know?"

"The next time you set foot on my property uninvited, I won't hesitate to end you. Do we understand each other?"

When she could only nod, speechless, he turned to Corazon. "Escort her out."

As Corazon led the woman toward the door, Elijah sank onto the leather sofa and leaned back, rubbing his temples.

"Miro—make sure she never gets past the gates again. I won't have any women trespassing on my territory."

"As you command, Il Capo."

Vito stepped forward, the only one bold enough to use his surname freely. "Deo mentioned you went to the club where Silas works. Did you deliver the punishment for her assault?"

"Silas? Is that her… codename?" Elijah asked, and Vito nodded.

"Everyone under the Twins' supervision uses one for field work—it's protocol."

Elijah thought of Samara's soft features and fiery spirit. The masculine codename felt completely wrong for her.

"I let her go."

Vito and Casimiro exchanged stunned glances. Elijah Penelton did not spare those who crossed him—not ever.

"You let her go? Why?"

"Because I chose to." Elijah sat up straighter as the front door opened, and Lorenzo and Taddeo walked in, their expressions serious.

"We ran into your… admirer on our way in, Il Capo," Lorenzo said, closing the door behind him. "Corazon was seeing her out. She's growing bolder by the day."

Elijah's eyes fixed on Taddeo, who'd collapsed onto the sofa beside him.

"Pull that woman from your supervision, Deo."

"Which one, sir? The one who keeps coming here?"

"Not her. Silas—the associate under your wing. Remove her from your roster and place her directly under mine."

Taddeo shot upright, his eyes wide. The others stared, equally bewildered.

"Y-You want me to transfer Silas to your command? That would make her an official member—on par with us?"

"You heard me. Starting tomorrow, I want her under my direct oversight." Elijah stood and headed for the French doors leading to the garden, leaving the four men staring after him in confusion.

Associates were not full members of the Senza organization—they were hopefuls, unproven and unrecognized. For one to be promoted straight to Il Capo's inner circle was unheard of.

"I didn't mishear that, right?" Taddeo asked, running a hand through his hair. "Il Capo really wants Silas on our team?"

"That's what I heard," Lorenzo replied. "Does that mean she'll be made a full member?"

"We don't know why he's doing it—but his word is law," Vito said, turning to Taddeo. "She's your associate. You'll tell her."

"Samara's going to lose her mind when I tell her," Taddeo muttered, grinning slightly. "Who knew punching the boss would get you a promotion?"

"Something's off with him." Casimiro's voice was low, serious.

"What do you mean, Penecarte the Second?" Lorenzo asked, following his gaze to where Elijah now stood on the garden terrace, staring out at the dark grounds.

"I don't know," Casimiro said quietly. "But I can feel it—something has changed in Il Capo."

All four men turned their eyes to their leader, watching as he stood alone in the moonlight—unmoving, unreadable, and carrying a secret none of them could guess.