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Sometimes I hate the way he knows me so well. “Fuck off.”
He barks out a laugh, coming to stand beside me and joining me in my staring mission. It's then that the object of my desire bounces out on stage, looking every bit as stunning as I remember. I straighten, my body heating with desire as she begins to move her perfect body to the music. I stare down at her, watching every single second of her set like my life depends on it. My cock hardens in my pants at the sight.Christ, she is seductive, enticing without even trying to be. She is by far the hottest thing I have ever seen in my life, and I can see why she is so popular.
Every set of eyes turns to look at her, lust-filled and wanting what’smine. My whole body tightens, possessiveness slithering through my veins like a living, breathing thing. Irrational anger courses through me, my hand reaching back on its own volition, wrapping around the handle of the gun that sits in the waistband of my pants. I would say that I am about five seconds away from going down there and shooting every one of the goddamn motherfucking perverts in the head for thinking they can look at her. A low whistle sounds beside me, snapping me from my murderous thoughts.
“Jesus. She really is stunning. Exquisite actually. Hottest dancer we’ve had in this place. And Christ she can move that body.”
I grip the gun tighter. For the first time in my life, I want to shoot my best friend in his asshole face. “Don’t look at her,” I growl.
He chuckles. “Man, I think I’m the least of your worries. Every fucker down there has eyes on her.”
“Fuck,” I curse, my free hand balling and slamming down on the shatterproof glass. I need to get my shit together. I don’t let women affect me. Ever. And definitely not some little dancer that I am pretty sure has a few skeletons hiding in her closet.
“Jesus, Nic. You better pull yourself together.” Dante repeats my own thoughts. “And fast. It’s just pussy. And let’s be honest here, you have plenty offering themselves to you on a platter. Let it go. Leave the girl alone. You know it can never be more than a fuck anyway. Wedon’tfuck the dancers and you have…” He trails off, his gaze shifting to mine. My jaw clenches as I stare him down. Not only did he just remind me of the clause we have in place, but he also reminded me of what is expected of me. Blowing out a breath, he steps away from me and up to the bar cart where he pours us both a finger of whiskey. He’s right. I know he is. But it doesn’t stop these… I shake my head as if I can rid myself of this interest I have in the girl.
Ocean.
So fucking beautiful with her big innocent blue orbs that look exactly like the crystal-clear waters of paradise. I grimace. What the fuck? Why the hell am I even thinking of shit like that. Fucking clear waters of paradise? If Dante heard my thoughts right now, he would probably think I’ve gone crazy. Sighing, I throw one last glare at Ocean, who is just finishing up her set, then stride across to my desk and take a seat. This thing with the girl needs to be done with. I am all about control. I have to be in this life. And for some unknown reason, she makes me feel like it's slipping. I don’t like it.
I need to forget about her and remember who I am. An underboss. Heir to a multi-million-dollar empire with a duty to my father. To my family. To the Cosa Nostra. And my responsibilities, they come before anything. Especially women. With those thoughts in mind, I push images of Ocean aside and decide to get out of here. Downing my whiskey, I push to a stand, my serious gaze locking on Dante.
“Let’s get out of here.”
***
“Ah, come in son.” Sarcasm drips from my papà’s voice as he pushes the whore on her knees at his feet away and zips up his pants. I’m disgusted at the scene in front of me, but I would be lying if I said it’s the first time this has happened. I glower at him before shifting my disgust to the woman now scrambling to her feet. I will never understand why he constantly cheats on my mamma. Valentina Marchetti is a good woman. Beautiful. Classy. Loyal. And for some goddamn unknown reason, she loves him. “Leave us.” He barks at the woman, making her squeak and rush out of his office like her ass is on fire. We are downtown at the high-rise building the Marchetti family owns and the place where we conduct meetings for our more…legitimate businesses. Construction. Property management. Restaurants. Nightclubs.
“Jesus. You don’t even try to be discreet.” I shake my head in disgust, running a palm down my face.
“When you are as powerful as I am, you don’t need to be,” he responds arrogantly.
“I don’t get it. Mamma loves you. She is a good woman. Why would you even consider eating a burger when you have steak athome?” I would never refer to my mamma as steak but it’s the only analogy I can come up with off the top of my head.
He huffs sardonically. “My boy. Come back and talk to me about this when you take a wife. You will see then exactly why I do the things I do. I have certain…tastes. Ones I would not expectmywife to take care of. Whores on the other hand, they will do anything if you flash them a bit of wealth and power.”
I stare at him with disdain. Lorenzo Marchetti. My father. Mafia boss. Head of ourfamiglia. I can argue with him, but it will do me no good. He believes his words are law, therefore he will see it as disrespectful if I challenge him.
“You wanted to see me?” I grunt, taking a seat in front of his desk.
“Yes,” he says, clearing his throat as he shuffles some paperwork. “It’s about your sister.” My spine snaps straight, tension filling every part of my body. This can only mean one thing. He has found a husband for her. “Franco Romano contacted me,” he starts, and it doesn’t relax me any. Franco Romano is the head of the Romano family and one of the five families in New York. It makes sense for my sister to marry into another powerful family. If Franco wants a deal with my father, then it must be his son Riccardo who is on the table. I have heard rumors about him. How he treats women. I don’t want my sister anywhere near him and neither should my papà. No way can I agree to this shit.
“No,” I say, cutting him off before he can say anything else.
His eyebrows raise in warning. “No,” he repeats, his face twisting like he is sucking a lemon. “Last I checked, I am boss, Nicolas, and you will treat me as such.” I don’t miss the way he uses my full name. It’s a thinly veiled warning to put me firmly back in my place.
“He will destroy Allegra.” I hiss, not caring that I am being disrespectful. “She deserves better than someone like Riccardo Romano.”
“That may be. But this alliance could bring us more power than we have ever had. It will give us a monopoly over the construction industry and Franco is willing to trade fifteen percent of his territory if the union happens. It makes good business sense.” His voice leaves no room for argument, but argue I do.
“You would be willing to trade your own daughter for money? For more power? Don’t you have enough? She isn’t a piece of meat on the selling block for the highest bidder.”
His face turns red in anger, and he pins me with a look. “Nico, stop. You know how our world works. This will be a good match. You have no say. I was just showing you a courtesy by telling you. Now remember your place and show me the respect a Don deserves.” He growls, his meaty fist hitting his desk.
Pushing out of my chair, I laugh but it's humorless. “You are making a mistake,” I bark out, but he just stares at me. “I won’t let my sister be traded to that man. She will not survive it. He is a fucking animal.”
“It’s not up to you. I am considering it, so let it go. It’s my decision and I will do what’s best for thefamiglia,” he roars with finality.
Shooting a look of disdain in his direction, I spin on my heel and stride to the door. It’s not done. No way. As long as I am breathing, I will put a stop to this – even if it’s the last thing I do.
