Her Mafia Brothers

Nick

Everybody disappeared after dinner, leaving me all alone. I think all my brothers, with the exception of Logan, were busy in the forbidden wing. Mafia stuff, no doubt. Stuff that I wasn't allowed to be involved in, or even really know about. Stuff that they apparently wanted to protect me from, shelter me from, but stuff which impacted every single aspect of my life. Absently, I reached around to rub my still-tender butt. After all, it was because of the Mafia that I needed a bodyguard, and it was because of the Mafia that my butt still hurt now. Well actually it was because of Alex, but ultimately it was the stupid Mafia. I didn't even know what they did. Bad stuff, obviously. Otherwise I wouldn't need a bodyguard every time I left the house. But aside from bad stuff, I had no clue. Is that why we are so rich? Because of the Mafia? Or is it because of my brother's businesses? I didn't know. And I didn't know how to even start figuring out the answer to that question, so I wandered aimlessly around the house, not entirely sure what I was even doing, but wanting, needing, to do something.

Part of me wanted to go up and talk to Logan, but the sensible part of me knew that I should stay away. Neither of us were ready to be best friends again yet. Maybe we never would be.

Maybe the damage that had been done was too great.

I looked in the direction of the lounge and smiled, remembering the pillow fight Logan and I had right there. I remembered the mess from the cushions exploding. The furniture and stuff we'd tipped over. And then how it had all turned to custard. I remembered Damon's anger, my scream of terror. Alex intervening. The ensuing spanking. It seemed like I was always in trouble, always getting told off or spanked. Every single one of my brothers had spanked me, even Logan had slapped me in the car that time. And he didn't even get in trouble for it, I thought bitterly. Just like Nick didn't get in trouble for hurting Logan. I was the only one who got in trouble around here, or so it seemed.

I hated this. I hated the way my hormones, and my emotions, were all over the place. I hated the cramps in my belly. I hated the stupid pad stuck in my panties that kept wadding up and getting uncomfortable. I hated everything!

Frustrated, I kicked at the wall, then slammed the lounge door. But the loud bang wasn't satisfying enough, so I opened it again, then put my whole body into slamming it so hard it bounced open again and the expensive vases on the shelf against the wall vibrated and rattled. I smiled. That was better. I stepped forward to do it again. And again. And again.

I was so focused on my task of venting my frustrations on the poor unfortunate lounge door that I didn't even hear the footsteps coming up behind me. I didn't hear Jack's voice coming through the phone. But I heard Nick call my name roughly, just as I was getting ready to slam the door again. I saw his frown, saw him holding his phone out and Jack's face on the screen and I gulped, pushing away the guilt welling up in me.

"Carrie!" Nick called me again, sternly this time, his hand flexing beside him. I swallowed hard. He wasn't going to spank me, was he? I couldn't handle another spanking.

"You've got boxing bags everywhere to take your anger out on," he growled. "Leave the poor door alone!"

"Are you having a rough day, sweetheart?" Jack's voice came through the phone, instantly soothing me. Just seeing my favorite brothers face on the phone screen comforted me immensely and I took a deep breath and felt myself start to relax.

"Yes," I mumbled. "Today has not been good. I got in trouble again," I admitted. "I can't do anything right," I whispered. "I'm always in trouble with someone."

"C'mon sis, come and sit down and talk to Jack," Nick commanded, taking my arm and leading me into the lounge, to the couch. Although Nick's words sounded like they should have been a suggestion, they definitely weren't. They were an order. An order I knew better than to disobey, especially when my butt was still throbbing, and I was on thin ice already from slamming the door so many times.