Tempted By The Mafia Boss

Nick

The first thing I do, that I’m not supposed to do, is ignore everybody’s calls.

It’s a cardinal rule in our family to pick up the phone if any family member is calling.

It’s protocol and standard and we’ve been doing that since forever, more so since Frankie’s death.

It makes sense to check in so those focused on a job don’t have to split their attention to worry about you. The thing is, my family are used to me being the wild child. Or the wilder, reckless one in the bunch. They know that when I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to talk.

Doesn’t stop them from calling though.

It started with Gabe, then Salvatore. Gabe again this morning when I left Mia’s house, then Salvatore.

By mid-day I had Vincent calling me. He called three times on the hour. Then by four Pa called me.

Pa rarely calls me and I know when he does it’s fucking important. His call isn’t just to check in with me, it’s because of yesterday. Snade.

The call signals that he now knows the shit that went down and wants to talk to me.

I ignore him just like I do the others and spend the day doing fuck all.

My mind is too scrambled to think.

Too scrambled to take a step by step motion to do anything at all but what I’m doing, which is nothing.

It’s nothing because what I’m thinking about is her.

Mia…

I’ve been wondering around all day. I’m in the park now, just sitting on a bench and I’m thinking about her.

I don’t ever feel bad for anything. Not one damn thing I’ve ever done. Reason being, I don’t get close. She is different and her telling me she feels for me is the worst thing I’ve heard today. It’s bad because she shouldn’t and now I know I want to stay away, but I want her.

Of course, I shouldn’t have expected anything less from an angel. Aren’t they supposed to soothe the wounded, bring light in darkness, make you feel whole.

That’s her, it’s her all over and I’m in this funk because for the first time in my life, I crave something good. I crave her, and I could kick myself for what happened to her last night.

That motherfucker, Marco Antonella went after her because it was clear she isn’t mine.

I didn’t know he was going to be there, and I felt the playboy lounge would have been the best place for Mia to go to break this connection to me.

For me to break the connection I have with her.

I don’t keep tabs on my patrons on the regular but last night definitely opened my eyes to what might go on in the club that I don’t want. The way I saw Nickoli holding Mia down with his boys suggests he’s done it before. It suggests he’s fucking done it and the one thing I truly loathe is the abuse of trust. He should know better.

I make a mental note to talk to Denise the next I see her, and some of the other girls who work the playboy lounge.

Despite the funk I’m in, it’s my job to take care of my staff. We all make The Dark Odyssey what it is. The girls who work there trust us with their safety.

That was one of the very clear things we talked about when me and the others set up the club. All five of us agreed that we’d take action at the first sign of anything like that.

That I’m thinking about it now in relation to my doll makes me want to kill. It makes me want to kill Marco. Cut his fucking dick off and make him suffer, then kill his ass with his dick in his hands.

Bottom line is, it shouldn’t have happened and I full on deserved the slap Mia gave me.

She seriously had some balls though. The doll was on fire and looked like she would beat me to a fucking pulp if she could. She even looked like she knew that on the regular, I wouldn’t have allowed anyone to fucking slap me once, let alone twice.

Twice?

Nah, fucking fuck that. That person would have been dead, dead, dead before they could get their hand within an inch of my face.

Yet if she’d sent that balled fist of hers into my face again I would have allowed her to do it, over and over again too, for the broken promise. I said I wouldn’t allow another man to touch her and I wouldn’t share her with anybody.

Last night crossed the line.

I gaze out to the little fountain ahead of me and watch the ducks swimming around. The receding sunlight casts a glow on them, making their feathers shimmer. Looking at them reminds me of days spent in Italy.

My family live in Tuscany by the beach. All that land there with the sea, the vineyard, and the scenic landscape is ours. Giordano land. I haven’t been in a while. It’s stupid that I haven’t. It’s fucked up because the place is like pure rejuvenation from the hectic lifestyle Chicago brings.

Rejuvenation sounds like a dream.

I don’t know what’s going to happen now. There’s so many that want my ass and I just keep making it worse.

Now I might have Antonella to worry about too.

He’s dangerous but he can’t touch me without the fear of me going to his family or his enemies. His particular tastes are not acceptable in his fold. The Antonellas are very old school and they don’t accept the modern. The man doesn’t just have one sub, he has a harem and he’s supposed to be married to one of the Manello sisters.

Me blabbing my mouth is enough to get him killed by his own people because the Antonellas and the Manello’s have been thick as thieves since the dawn of time.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket and I pull it out.

It’s Ma.

It’s her and I feel worse as I look at the phone buzzing in my hand and it stops then starts up again.

I know when she calls it’s because she thinks the worst has happened to me.

She probably thinks I’ve gone out and got myself killed. Or, that I’m lying in a fucking ditch somewhere.

I draw in a breath and answer the phone before it rings out again.

“Ma,” I say and because it’s the first I’ve spoken in hours my voice is hoarse.

“Nick, Jesus Christ,” she sighs and the line crackles on her breath. “What the hell is wrong with you? We’ve all been calling you. You ignored your father’s call?”

The question is valid because nobody does that. Not even Vincent but really he’s a brown-nosing asskisser when it comes to Pa. Like he wasn’t obviously going to be underboss and capo when Frankie was killed.

“Ma, I’m just answering you to let you know I’m okay.”

“Okay? Really?” She starts bitching at me in Italian, asking me if I couldn’t have called her earlier and talked out my problems like I’m some share-my-worries kind of guy. It’s times like this when I feel sorry for her because she has four sons and she clearly needs a daughter to talk that kind of shit with. Shit that’s not me and never has been.

“Ma, I gotta go,” I cut in.

“Nicky, your father knows about yesterday and he’s not happy about it.” Now she tells me that part. We’ve been talking for a good ten minutes with her blasting me and she gets to the part that I need to worry about most when I’m about to end the call.

“I figured,” is all I reply. “Ma, don’t ask me to explain myself. If you don’t know me now you never will. It’s been a month since Tommy was gunned down in his own home. His wife and baby were in the house. His wife and baby, Ma. He’s in the hospital now fighting for his life. I’m his best friend. I don’t owe anybody an explanation for what I do, and while I’m sorry Pa is pissed at me, needs must.”

She’s quiet for a few seconds. I know she gets it. I know she gets me. I know she knows I don’t give a shit who wants to be upset with me, I’m doing what I have to.

“Nick be careful. That’s all we want. Consider this, the fact that this is still all unresolved means a lot. Means we have to be careful. We don’t know what could happen next and the flames were fanned with Snade’s death.”

I heed her caution. I like what she says and I like that she knows.

We keep women out of business as much as the average mobster but Pa has his woman right beside him. He does things a little different to most. In the hierarchy of who’s who, she’s his consigliere. His most trusted advisor. It doesn’t make him weak. He says it makes him strong because of who she is to him. Maybe it’s why she puts up with his shit with women. It is what it is and I don’t try to understand it.

“Okay Ma,” I nod although she can’t see me. “Okay.”

“When are we going to see you? We want you to come home tonight so we can talk.”

“No, not tonight, Ma. I have a few things I gotta do.” There’s one place I thought of checking out, then I’m going to the club. I hope Mia comes tonight. I hope she comes back. I should be there regardless, because last night was shot too and I have a heap of admin stuff to do.

I don’t want to go to the house and get the third degree or think about Snade.

I need to localize the parts I have to worry about.

Who pulled the trigger on Tommy? That’s all. That’s all I want to know.

“Okay, not tonight but soon. Check in with me later boy,” she tells me as a warning not a request.

“Yes.”

She hangs up and I stand.

It’s nearly five.

I’m going to check out a bar most of the underground hang out at. There was something Gabe said yesterday that made me think. He was talking about the Fontaines and who they hire when they want to put a hit on someone. They’re clever in the way they work because they don’t have hitmen or enforcers that people can associate back to them.

They outsource random guys that can do a job.

I thought about it and came to the conclusion that I need to dig there. Find out who they might have hired in that short space of time from the deal going wrong to Tommy being gunned down.

The problem is, who would talk to me?

I’d go there first and head to the club after.

One bar fight later and I had something I never had earlier, or yesterday.

It makes me feel a little more like I did something with my day.

I grabbed a weasel who came at me with a knife when I asked a question and offered him his life in return for info. I do that a lot. It’s my thing. At least I offer it, which is a lot more than I can say for most.

He heard me asking around and thought I’d come for him.

The motherfucker’s name was Pablo. Nasty scar on his face, looked like shit.

He said one of the Fontaine associates called up some of the guys who travelled with Perez. All part of the Cuban Cartel. The associates were looking for a guy to hire because they needed a hit on someone. Pablo dropped the name of Hector Ramirez. He said one of Hector’s boys got picked for a job.

What I know of the Fontaines is that the more low key the more desirable.RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

That was all I could get. I got a name I could work with.

That came after I got sliced with a mean-looking knife and actually had the shit beaten out of me by his boys.

I kept the Giordano name alive though when I struck back, ended two of his best and left with my info.

A name.

Hector… prick. God help him when I find him and his boy.

Motherfucker.

I get to the club late. I’m a mess, all ruffled and roughed up and I know there must be blood on my shirt but I decide I’m going in just like this.

Although the tension has eased a little, I’m still worked up pretty bad and I want to forget. I want to forget and I’m not pushing pencils and paper tonight.

I just want my doll. The way she was before last night.

I get up to my office though and could breathe hell fire when fucking Jenna’s inside there again and this time she’s not wearing lingerie.

She’s fucking naked.

The woman is naked, sitting on my desk. She’s the first thing I see as I walk in, and she parts her legs and runs her fingers over her pussy while she looks at me with seduction in her eyes.

Fuck, that used to turn me on and it should.

It would turn any man on but since I don’t want her it does nothing to me, and for me.

“Hi Boss…” she coos in that sugary voice while she tweaks her nipples and continues to finger herself. “You look like you need a break.”

Clearly she doesn’t follow instructions well because I’m fairly certain I told her just yesterday not to do this.

So many damn things happened yesterday it feels like there’s no way it can be the same twenty four hours.

“Jenna… I’m gonna say this one last time,” I begin. “Don’t fucking come and see me unless I send for you. Don’t fucking do it.”

Her answer is to give me a lascivious grin and run her tongue over her bottom lip. Lashes fluttering with seduction.

This woman…

This is the kind of woman I’m used to. Someone who tries to defy me because she thinks I’m messing around and then by the time we take our clothes off, the only thing there’s left to do is angry fucking.

She slides off the desk and walks over to me, the smirk still on her face.

It’s clear as fuck she has no intention of listening to me because she wants me. She runs her fingers over my chest and her smile brightens.

“Well hell. It looks like you really need a break. Do you want me on my knees or riding your cock, Boss?” She muses.

“Get your clothes on and get out. That’s my answer and I don’t want to repeat myself.”

“Nick, you’re so testy these days. I seriously thought you kicked the stupid princess to the curb by putting her in the Playboy Lounge. You know, kind of like what you did to me. One day we’re fucking and we’re having a good time and by the next I’ve been replaced. I knew it from when she came in and asked for your name. You told me to do the same when I first started. It’s like a code. It says it all. Anyone working reception wouldn’t have thought to ask her anything else if she gave your name.”

She’s right. She’s fucking right, but if she wants me to feel any kind of way, I don’t. She knows what I am, and we were just messing around.

What I pity is her desperation in this moment. Throwing herself at me when she knows I don’t want her.

Throwing herself at me when she suspects what everyone else does, that Mia’s important to me.

Jenna is here to cause trouble. I never promised her anything and she knew to never expect anything from me.

I lean forward so I’m eye to eye with her and scowl.

“Jenna, fucking around is exactly that. Do not piss me off. If you do, you won’t work here anymore. This is the second time I’ve had to warn you. Do not make me do it again. Get your clothes and get the fuck out of my damn office.”

She looks like she gets the message. Fear is in her eyes. Fear of losing her job and fear because she knows I mean what I’m saying.

The shuffle of footsteps however sounds at the door and she smiles again.

I turn to look at what the hell she could be smiling at and see.

It’s Mia.

Mia’s at the door and she’s looking at me standing next to naked Jenna. We look like we’ve been doing fuck knows in here, even with the door open.

I see she’s wearing a little puff sleeved blouse and a wrap over skirt. Not lingerie. She’s not made up either. Her hair is in a high messy bun and she actually looks sexier than when I saw her in that black lace lingerie.

The sight of her, angry as she is at me for having Jenna like this in my office, is what hardens my cock. Then I remember this woman always has that effect on me.

Even before we spoke.

One look at her and I want her.

One look at her and I can see the wealth of hurt in her eyes.

She feels for me and she thinks I’m hers.

I shouldn’t be.

Shouldn’t…

That fucking word is such an asshole. It’s such an asshole because she’s looking at me and I want to know what it would be like to be hers.