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LUCA
The small restaurant stayed relatively quiet as I sat across from Matteo in our usual booth. As one of the places owned by the Russos, it wasn’t uncommon for us to meet here for a bite to eat and talk.
The plan for over two years had been to bring together three different syndicates who would operate and manage separate entities such as, the purchasing, selling and distributing aspects of illegal businesses.
Us— the Italians, had the longest standing reputation within the city, with more politicians and law enforcement on our payroll. Even if some of them didn’t do it by choice, they still took the money. Everyone either took the money, or you suffered for the disrespect of your rejection. We also had an unprecedented amount of banking and businesses—thanks to Arianna’s dad— in which to launder money form the guns, drugs, protection rackets and other illegal activities we ran.
The Irish had guns and ammo that they could bring in for far less than the competition. They also ran street prostitution, a large underground gambling ring and cooked a decent amount of drugs. What they lacked was enough control of the ports and not as many cops in their pockets.
The MC, The Devil’s Hoard, perfected the distribution side. They transported anything you wanted for the right price and ran protection. Using anything from big-rigs, moving vans, a sixty year old man traveling to visit family, to a couple in a mini-van taking there kids on family vacation. The MC was a large organization with multiple chapters up and down the east-coast and mid-west. They had the potential to move large amounts of various products at one time. But had never been exclusively loyal to anyone.
If all three syndicates came together to benefit from our strengths, there was a potential to make an obscene amount of money with less risk.
There was also the benefit of being able to wipe out the Russians with ease. The Russians had made enemies of everyone. A constant thorn in all our sides.
“The Irish are becoming more impatient,” Matteo growled. “They are growing tired of waiting for the National MC President to grace us with his presence.” Frustration was making him fume.
The MC constantly traveled, with permanent residences set up everywhere so they could come and go as they pleased, and for however long.
“He’s making you wait on purpose. The President wants everyone to know that no matter what, he will never be at anyones beck and call. Just like any leader.”
Matteo fisted his hands on the table. “I know, but now the Irish are starting to spout shit like they are getting cold feet. It took me a whole year just to get O’Connell interested, if the bastard backs out now I’m going to lose my shit.”
“O’Connell is not going anywhere,” I assured him.
“He is questioning my ability to follow through with my word,” he said through gritted teeth. “He challenges my authority and ability to lead.”
I listened to Matteo fume for several more minutes about his authority being questioned and mounting frustration about all his hard work going to shit.
Then he changed the subject back to the MC President. Matteo was assured by the President that he would be coming in the next two weeks for the big meeting. Matteo started to go on about using the Ecstasy as the location for the private party to follow.
Thats when I tuned out.
I never had a problem staying focused, but since I met Becka I couldn’t put her out of my head for five minutes. It was another new experience; having someone consume your mind no matter where you were or what you were doing. She felt like a drug I couldn’t get enough of. We had hardly spent any time together since we met four days prior and yet, I felt drawn to her in a way I failed to wrap my brain around. It took hold of me every time we were in the same room, a pull so strong it defied logic.
From the moment I saw her I wanted her more than anything, but knew I wasn’t not worthy of her. I would have spent the rest of my life dreaming about her and been completely unsatisfied. But the world had turned on its head and now she was my wife.
Until death do us part.
Now that she was mine I couldn’t stop hoping for the impossible; things that should be shut behind steel doors and never see the light of day. But they wouldn’t stop invading my mind. No matter how hard I fought, her face appeared, bringing with it confusion on a destructive level.
What the fuck is happening to me? I can’t be distracted like this.
Matteo’s mouth moved but I didn’t hear him, all I could see was the little sports bra and leggings Becka had been wearing that morning. Her skin glistening with sweat. No make-up and a mess of hair on her head, she was still beautiful.
When she’d walked in the door I saw relief in her eyes. After the previous night I expected her to still be angry. She had thick skin. The suspicion crossed my mind she was merely pretending to be complacent, to try and work me down, but my tower of trust remained impenetrable.
Even as the conversation continued and I determined she really was trying to get back on the right foot— whichever that was in a situation such as ours— I didn’t let my guard down.
Until she begged.
The vulnerability in her eyes when she asked to go out was nothing but honesty. It crushed me. Just a few days ago she had been totally free, now she had to ask permission just to leave the house. I couldn’t imagine choking down that amount of pride.
When I leaned in to kiss her forehead and she didn’t pull away, I felt like a kid who just won a prize. It was a baby step, where what I really wanted was to sprint to the finish line, but it was an important one. She had leaned in too, wanting it. It took every bit of my control to not try and take it further.
I licked my lips, remembering the salty taste. Hopefully soon her walls would come down completely. I couldn’t wait to get a taste of other parts of her.
I pictured my head between her legs, her back arching, grinding into my face while I made her beg me to take her over the finish line. My dick got hard. I imagined the whimpers…
