Sniping Her Mafia King

On Monday, Arwen approached the entrance to her physiotherapy clinic and fought the overwhelming desire to screech out of sheer frustration.

The man lounging against the black escalade parked outside her workplace was clearly unable to take no for an answer, considering she'd been very explicit when she'd told him no when he'd called her work phone the night before. How he'd gotten the number was beyond her, but Jesse had sworn up and down she hadn't given it to him. He'd asked her to dinner. She'd said no. She'd hung up. He hadn't called back. She thought he had accepted her decision.

"Mr. Cavallaro, don't you have a Vegas empire to run? Why are you still in New York?" She stopped in front of him, tucking her motorcycle helmet under her arm.

"Buongiorno, mia cara. You drive a motorcycle?" he motioned to her helmet.

"Yes. Why are you here?"

"Very sexy. We should go for lunch and discuss what other hobbies you have. You said no to dinner. I thought I'd try lunch."

"Not interested. Why are you in New York?" Arwen considered his accent was far too exotic for her own good. She was going to have to get Jesse to teach her the language, so it didn't seem exceptional and sensual.

"My father was supposed to be the one to take care of things here in New York, but it turns out he delegated his tasks and the person he appointed to take care of things was not equipped for the job. I am here to get our family's affairs in order."

"You mean the crackhead Joey Mancuso? He's a fool. He couldn't run a hot dog stand with any kind of efficiency. How your father expected him to run your businesses is beyond me."

Addy c****d his head to one side and lifted an eyebrow. "Someone has done her homework. Have you been checking into me? I'm flattered."

"Nope. It had nothing to do with checking up on you. I helped Jesse one night about a year ago when on behalf of your father, he tried to convince her as part of your family, she needed to run drugs for him."

"How did you help her?"

"I drove her to where she needed to go. She beat the s**t out of him and made sure he understood under no circumstances would she ever run drugs for him. I drove her home after and iced her knuckles. She told me he was a crack head and your father appointed him to head the New York division of your family and it was her opinion he had selected poorly."

"Jesse talks too much and involves strangers in family matters where she shouldn't." His pursed lips demonstrated his clear frustration with his cousin.

"Jesse knows every single one of my deepest darkest secrets. She knows my silence is guaranteed." She held his gaze with a smirk.

"Does she know you want to f**k me?" Merriment danced in his eyes at her discomfort.

She choked on her own spittle at his blunt words. "I don't want to do that." "Liar."

"Not a liar. I am a woman who very much wants to live a long, happy, and healthy life. You are not conducive to such things." She met his gaze straight-on. "You're a Cavallaro. Death and destruction follow you where you go. I repeat, I'm close friends with your cousin. You're dangerous."

She watched as his eyes narrowed on her as she blatantly insulted him. Jesse had told her to tread lightly because a man in his position tended to react quickly. Punish first, ask questions last. She had just done exactly what Jesse had warned her not to do. She waited for his reaction. She was stunned when he threw his head back and laughed loudly.

If anyone had ever told Arwen a man's laugh would bring her close to o****m, she would have mocked them outright but as she stood in front of him, she realized she was barely breathing. His head was thrown back, his Adam's apple bobbing with the warm rich reverberation of his laugh floating around them in the early morning city noise. His dark eyes were squinted as wide laugh lines circled his full plush lips. The velvety coating of his laugh was warm like a bearskin rug on a cool day in January and she wanted to sink right into it. Instead, she shifted from one foot to the other, aware her yoga pants were getting wet, and her n*****s were hard. She folded her arms against them.

He made a show of wiping the corners of his eyes. "We are having dinner, beautiful. You can tell me more over dinner about how Cavallaros are dangerous." "No, we're not. I have plans."

"With whom?"

"I don't know yet. I'm sure I can find a date, even short notice."

He was laughing, "What are you afraid of?"

"Dying?" she made a face as if he were stupid to even ask the question. "Dude, your last girlfriend tried to beat up my best friend. I don't need your girlfriends coming after me."

"I believe the same evening you and another woman took on opponents who make you look as small as Clara Draxton." He let his gaze travel from the tip of her leather boots to her scalp, "you're easily five nine. They had to be huge. You can handle your own." "Five eight," she corrected and lifted a foot, "boot adds an inch."

"I'd like to give you several inches." He leaned forward and whispered in her ear so nobody else could hear.

"You have a dirty mouth Mr. Cavallaro."

"You should see what I can do with my filthy tongue."

"I'll pass."

"You really shouldn't. Aren't you one of those women who embraces life to the fullest? Live life with no regrets? You'll always wonder 'what if' if you don't come out with me." He leaned toward her as if revealing a dirty secret. "Don't live with regrets Arwen." "You have me pegged wrong. I'm not one of those women. I live a quiet little life in my little renovated farmhouse in the suburbs with my chickens and I do not chase adventure. I have one of those wooden signs over my sink which says live, laugh, love." She spread her hands out in front of her as if displaying the sign to him.

He studied her seriously and then sighed, "I feel we are going about things all the wrong way."

"You think?" she laughed in his face. "No means no, Mr. Cavallaro. I'm not interested in going out with you."

"Why not?"

"Do you want my reasons in numerical or alphabetical order?" "Surprise me." He grinned at her.

"To begin with, you are my best friend's cousin and well, it's weird, especially since she told me how difficult her family can be. Then it's rumoured," she twisted her lips, "you have connection to and maybe even are running illicit activities related to your Sicilian family." She danced around the word mafia. "Even if you didn't have those rumours of being a nefarious bad guy chasing you, you own half of Vegas. I heard you have the feds breathing hard down your neck for everything from murder to racketeering and you have a hard time eating dinner in your own restaurants because they hound you. Just two weeks ago, they dared approach you while you had dinner. Now," she stepped closer to him, noting the way his nostrils flared as if he were trying to control his temper, "Mr. Cavallaro, if those three reasons weren't enough, I have a couple of other reasons. Namely, you go through women like I do socks which makes me very suspicious," she wiggled her fingers in a circular motion towards his crotch, "you have something contagious in there I don't want." At his wide-eyed gaze, she smirked, "and finally, and most importantly, Mr. Cavallaro, you are the kind of man who treats women like possessions, things you own and play with before you discard them like yesterday's trash. I have no intention of letting any man into my life who thinks he can dictate what I can wear, who I can speak with, where I can go or what activities I can engage in while demanding I bow down to his ego just so when he's had his fill and becomes bored, I'm left to lick my wounds while they move on to the next plaything."

"I'm not sure where you get your information - "he stopped speaking when she put a finger against his lips.

"Shh Mr. Cavallaro," she stood on tiptoe in front of him, "I have a lot of friends in a lot of very high places who I trust a hell of a lot more than you and they've let me know everything I suspect is entirely factual." She stepped backwards, cockily smiling as she took in his stunned countenance. "Good day, Mr. Cavallaro."

She turned around and walked to the doors of her clinic and unlocked them. Once she stepped inside, she flipped the lights on and moved to start the coffee machine followed by the reception computers.

"Do you often open up the clinic?"

She grimaced as he obviously followed her, and she hadn't been paying attention. Insulting him had not made him run for the hills. "I own it, so yes. I have a private client coming in who values their privacy. You need to leave."

"I am worried for your safety being in here alone."

"Not alone," she pointed to the camera's positioned behind her.

"Very helpful in identifying your body and your assailant. Not as good during an actual event though, wouldn't you agree? I'd like you to have someone protecting you."

"Is this the part of the day where I start paying a mob boss for protecting my business?" she bit out harshly. "This feels very much like a shakedown."

"Arwen, you have thrice accused me of things of which you know nothing. You should choose your words wisely. If you even considered the possibility of your allegations as the truth, then you should know you should tread lightly." His smile never left his face as he chastised her.

"Thrice? Who uses that word?"

"A man who is close to a language pathologist," his grin was charmingly disarming, "one I believe we both care very much for."

She chuckled, "here's the thing Mr. Cavallaro."

"Addy," he inserted quickly.

"Nope, too personal. Sticking with Mr. Cavallaro. Anyway, here's the thing," she repeated, "I'm not one to tread lightly on anything which means I'm likely to get annihilated by you because you're either going to kill me for shooting my mouth off or it will be self- defence from me trying to murder you. At the risk of sounding like a parrot, I'm not interested in going out with you. You need to leave."

"Fine. I will go." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "But know this Ms. Beddoe," he leaned over the high countertop in her direction, his elbows resting on them and his eyes twinkling, "you are missing something I think could be incredibly special. I'll be in New York a few weeks. If you change your mind, you let me know."

"I won't be changing my mind." She met his eyes directly. The phone in her clinic ringing made her automatically reach for it. "Beddoe Physio," she answered professionally. She groaned when she heard the voice on the other end. "Trace, I'm not in the mood." She hung up the phone without listening to his words. Immediately the phone started ringing again. She cursed under her breath as she knew with her hours it could be a client calling or it could be Trace calling right back. She picked it up again and turned her back to the man who had started to leave but now was staring in her direction, casually leaning on the counter openly eavesdropping.

"What do you want?" Arwen asked when Trace's voice cut into hers.

"To talk. I miss you."

"You don't get to talk to me, Trace. If my memory serves me correct, you cooked me dinner during which you told me I wasn't around enough and when I was around, I was too intense for your liking and then you said you wanted to f**k other people." "Are you seeing someone?" Trace asked quietly.

"None of your business, Trace. You no longer get to ask those questions. We dated for three months. The time to ask those types of questions was then."

"Arwen, I'm sorry I hurt your feelings."

"Good. You should be sorry you hurt my feelings."

"Babe, can we talk? I made a mistake and I know I did. I was angry you had to rush off again."

"I had to rush off because I have a kid, I'm responsible for. I told you before Trace, she comes first and foremost ahead and before anyone else." She looked sideways to note the startled expression on Addy's face. Interesting. He hadn't connected her to Deidre at the wedding. She wondered what he'd do with the info. Perhaps this was the thing to make him run.

"She's nineteen, Arwen," Trace argued, "you don't need to run to her every time she cries wolf."

"Every time she cries wolf?" Her body turned away from Addy as she felt fury unroll in her chest. "What the f**k does that mean?"

"I just think she called you home an awful lot."

"You, selfish prick," Arwen bit out furiously. "She has never cried wolf. She is single-handedly the best thing to ever happen to me and if she called me eight-hundred times a day to run and help her with anything she needed, I would go. I told you this before we even started dating."

"You're not even her real parent."

"Goodbye Trace do not call me again," she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Arwen don't shoot the messenger. Until you stop mollycoddling her, you're never going to have a real relationship of your own. You need to cut her loose."

She felt her face burn with fury at his words and then suddenly the phone was taken from her fingers, and she watched incredulously as Adrianu Cavallaro replaced the phone onto the cradle and hung it up.

"Some people don't deserve your words," he commented seriously. "If you're done with him, be done. Don't entertain his stupidity."

"I can fight my own battles."

"I know. College state-champion in women's boxing and you forget I saw you last weekend," he winked playfully. "The young woman with you at the wedding yesterday is yours?"

"My cousin. I've been her legal guardian since she was seven."

"You took on a lot of responsibility at a young age," he tilted his head in admiration.

Arwen considered the last thing she needed was his admiration but, in the moment, the way he was looking at her made her feel warm inside. "Maybe. When my dad died, his brother, my uncle and his wife took me in without a second thought. My uncle took up where Dad left off. They wiped every tear and cheered every success. When they died, I knew I had to do for their daughter what they did for me."

"She has injuries." His comment was an observation not a question.

"My uncle and aunt died in a housefire and there was an explosion. Deidre lost a large chunk of her leg, had burns to her face and significant head injuries. She was in a coma for six weeks and then years of therapy and multiple surgeries. She's the bravest person I know."

"What was Trace's problem with her?" He asked curiously.

"She started college last September and is struggling a bit. She was calling me home a lot. She's a bit clingier than she used to be. I think part of it is she's at an age where her counterparts are dating and finding love and she's feeling a bit left out." "She doesn't date?"

Arwen made a face, "no. She has a crush on a guy at school but she's very shy and quiet. Painfully so. She was shy before the fire, but it worsened after. She also feels because of the scarring on her face and her limp, guys won't be interested in her." She bit her lip, "lately she's on a kick of making fat jokes or crap about her appearance or abilities and I'm losing patience with it, and we fought about it on Saturday." Suddenly she frowned, "what the hell just happened?"

He lifted his eyebrows, "what?"

"I just had the worst case of verbal diarrhea of my life," she blinked rapidly at him.

He chuckled, "you relaxed. It's okay to relax, Arwen."

The opening of the door signaling the arrival of her receptionist made her look up in surprise. "Holy s**t, is it eight already?" "Morning boss," Norah looked between her and the stunning man on the other side of the counter. "New patient?" "Nope." Arwen gave him a glance.

"I'm leaving," he smiled gently. "I'm a good listener Arwen. You can call me anytime."

"Right," she eyed him suspiciously as he turned and walked out of the clinic without a backward glance.

"Who was the gorgeous s*x on legs?" Norah was almost drooling. "I swear Arwen, you get the hottest guys through these doors."

"He's nobody." She made a face, "speaking of people coming through these doors, Nate will be here at eight-fifteen." She looked up and saw the kinesiologist coming in, "great, Joy, you're here. Nate will be here soon. Can you put him through the exercise program and then put him with Beth for acupuncture? He can come see me after he sees Beth and then he can finish with Karla for massage."

"It's like getting dessert after being force-fed sprouts," Joy grinned at her as she took a look at the rest of the day's schedule.

"Are you calling me sprouts?"

"You're going to test his function today. Which means after he does his exercises and is loose and limber, you're going to push him and he's going to be pissed off."

"Yeah, I'm the sprouts," Arwen grinned broadly.

"Question," Joy asked curiously, "who was the hot guy leaving here when I was crossing the street?"

"A friend of a friend who is in town for a short while and thought he'd stop in to say hi."

"Huh," Joy and Norah exchanged a look.

"What?"

"You said it as if it were truth, but we all know you're lying through your teeth." Joy grinned while Arwen frowned, "I'm just saying, a man who looks like him, doesn't have female friends, especially ones who look like you. You're not his friend. You're either sleeping with him or going to sleep with him."

"f**k off," Arwen grunted at the chuckling women and headed in the direction of her office.

As she got into her office, she closed the door behind her and gave a dramatic sigh. Mondays typically were busy, hectic and things often went sideways. In her experience the clients coming in would have done too much over the weekend and would be sore, cranky and a pain in the a*s. It was up to her and her team to make sure she kept them engaged in the process and not lose faith.

However, she was distracted, and she knew it. She needed to be on her A-game and if she didn't get her head out of her a*s and her thoughts away from Adrianu Cavallaro, her day was going to be more difficult than typical. She grabbed her earbuds and plugged in to meditate for fifteen minutes before starting her day. She rolled out her yoga mat and sat in the center of it, closing her eyes, inhaling, and exhaling rhythmically.

Fifteen minutes later, as the chime rang in her ear, she exhaled slowly and stretched. This was how her day in the office was supposed to start. Verbal sparring with Adrianu Cavallaro had put her off center but now she felt she was back in control.