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“Paulie, one of the things it would do you well to learn is that what happens out there—” I flip my hand, indicating the general public. “—where the rest of the world exists, impacts us as a whole. The world is getting smaller with social media detectives around every damned corner. Podcast sleuths trying to deconstruct secrets we’ve kept for decades. If a Carluccio soldier gets caught confessing to multiple fucking crimes while attempting to kidnap a well-known mayor’s oldest daughter and we don’t instantly wash our hand of him, questions will get raised.” I look at the screen that’s still loading.
Stupid fucking software. Need to talk to Marco about an upgrade to the system once again.
“The last thing we need is to get people on our ass, asking questions, reporters at our doors because some fuckin’ buttagots decided he couldn’t keep his shit straight.” My nephew rolls his eyes at my words.
The problem with the younger capos is that they don’t quite understand yet. They haven’t seen what can happen if someone gets loose, if someone slips up. Paulie’s grandmother was killed because my father got too cocky. His own father will be locked up for the rest of his life because he was too greedy.
If you get cocky in this line of work, you end up dead or in prison.
Or, in Johnny Vitale’s case, both.
“That’s why I’m focusing on the club, Paulie. The clubs and the games are the future. Quiet, secure. Back rooms for private meetings, no ears, no eyes. We control who comes in.”
“Both could be so much more, Dante,” he says, and I can almost see the fuckin’ movie playing over his head like sugarplums dancing. The idealized version of the shows he’s watched, the video games he’s played. But this is real fucking life. It’s not some badge of honor to get you pussy.
“I don’t want to hear it, Paulie.” My eyes move to the screen, I notice it’s cleared, and instantly, the blood in my veins turns to fire.
That face.
I know the face.
“Get out.”
“What?” my nephew asks.
“Get out of my office,” I say, repeating myself, but I’m already gone to the world. Lost in the fuzzy black-and-white screen before me.
I know that face.
I didn’t know the body was connected to it.
Didn’t know there was sheer sex under those kind eyes. That the way she moved would hypnotize a man. But I know that face. It’s haunted my dreams, my daytime, my nightmares, and my memories.
It’s a face I’ve spent two long years trying to find, hitting dead end after dead end.
And now that she’s here, now that I know who she is, I’ll do whatever it takes to make her mine, finally.
And so, my plan starts.
No woman of mine will be dancing for other men. No woman of mine will be wearing skimpy bikinis and showing off her tits for tips. No woman of mine spends her days paying off debts she didn’t earn instead of chasing whatever dreams she has. No woman of mine is in the line of danger, wrapped up with my nephew and his grand scheme that, even though he hasn’t told me it yet, I know is brewing.
A woman of mine has no debts.
A woman of mine is safe with me.
A woman of mine chases her passions.
A woman of mine is mine and mine alone.
Thirty
-Lilah-
The clock over the desk tells me fifteen minutes have passed before I realize I’ve been in this office before. It’s boring and unremarkable, but I remember it.
It’s the office I walked into in a tight red dress and offered to make a deal with Paulie Carluccio.
Six weeks later, it seems his uncle, fucking Junior Carluccio took my fucking virginity.
