AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Giovanni
PLAYLIST: ? THRONE - SAINT MESA ?
Tonight is about conducting business.
I arrive at Lovato’s Vegas compound with ten of my men in tow. With a sinfully gorgeous and sexy Falynn on my arm. The night’s festivities have already kicked off. Music blasts from the many open windows, shaking the Spanish-style mansion on its foundation. Guests hang around the large veranda, blowing smoke and sipping drinks.
The night feels as long as the dark stretching into the desert hills. A bottomless void with no end. But one way or another, come dawn, a path forward will be set. Either an understanding will be reached, or we’ll be at war.
We enter the mansion to bright lights and a double grand staircase in the foyer. Businessman and entertainment mogul, Johnny Goldman, strolls up to me with a big, fat grin and his hand held out. He’s old as dirt—looks and smells like it, with tufts of hair sticking out his ears and a face that puts the cryptkeeper to shame. In years past, he did business with Uncle Claro when he worked the west coast side of the family’s interests.
In the present times, he’s knocking at death’s door with a surgery-enhanced wife a third his age. We shake hands and trade quick pleasantries.
“Good to see the Sorrentinos return to Vegas,” he says, flashing dentures at me. “Claro regretted having to scale back operations those years ago. How is he?”
I pull back my hand from his Skeletor grip. “Claro’s surviving like the rest of us. I’ll send him your regards.”
“Please do, and remember,” he wheezes, moving closer, “if you ever need a cover, Goldman Entertainment is open to a partnership.”
New business prospects are the least of my concerns. My focus is solely on launching the Vittoria and quelling this potential feud with Lovato.
I bring Falynn with me to the open bar. My men are my shadow, drifting along, going where I go. So far Falynn’s been obedient; she’s played the role I hired her to play, and looked distractingly sexy doing so. Even as a man of composure, with the ability to be as cold as steel, I admit she’s difficult to resist.
Those eyes are a deep and alluring abyss. Her lips, lush and plump. Her skin, bronze silk. Her body, a work of art with womanly curves flowing and dipping in all the right places. Even her smell intoxicates me—fresh and sweet, like spring.
It’s what draws me in whenever I look at her. The light amid the dark. The spark of life that lives inside her in a world where blood and violence reigns supreme.
Falynn Carter has become an escape. If only a temporary one.
“How am I doing?” she asks, eyes twinkling. She takes a delicate sip of her drink, so close I catch an inhale of her sweetness. “I’ve been behaving myself.”
“Good girl. Keep it up, I might reward you later,” I tell her, arm slipping around her waist. I’m not pretending to care about being handsy. I couldn’t care less. Falynn is mine for the duration of our arrangement. So long as she is, I will touch her however I please when I please.
Now is one of those times as my hand rides along the swell of her supple ass. It’s one of the most delectable asses I’ve seen, cheeks rounder than a globe of the world.
Falynn is in a good mood, because she giggles and leans closer. She playfully tucks her face into my neck. Her breath skims over my skin like the night air as she whispers, “Why wait ’til later? Why not now?”
My grip on her ass tightens, a full squeeze of ass meat in my palm. Before I can properly answer her, acabronwith a hook nose and cheap suit approaches. Louis is a buffer between us in case he tries anything, but in a second, he reveals his intention.
“Mr. Tony would like to sit down to a drink if you are available.”
I leave Falynn with two of my guys, making sure they’ll keep her close, and then I proceed to go meet Antonio Lovato.
Tony and I have a lot in common. Both sons of the don. Bothcapos. Both early thirties with career aspirations as bloodthirsty as our fathers. Both with brothers vying for a throne we believe is ours.
But Antonio Lovato is a hothead. He’s sloppy and unfocused, easily distracted. He’s like a dog let loose from his leash; he’ll chase after every fucking car in traffic if you let him.
He’s seated in a den decorated with gaudy NYC artwork along the walls and rich mahogany furniture. Neither match the flavorful style of the Spanish architecture mansion, but the Lovatos aren’t known for taste; they’re known as fucking thorns in the side. We sit down at either end of a long table.
“It’s good you were able to make it, Gio,” Tony says, his gaudy gold watch glinting under the lighting. He’s decked out in gold everywhere—the chains around his neck, the flashy rings on his fingers, even the cap in his tooth. “It’s always a benefit to meet like this, talk face-to-face. Otherwise, there’s communication issues. You agree?”
“We’re busy men, Tony. It’s no hard feelings.You agree?”
The corner of Tony’s mouth twitches. He’s an unremarkable man, average height and pudgy build with sunken eyes. He’d be nothing if it weren’t for his father.
His guys are lined up behind him, a wall of enforcers ready to defend theircapoat the slightest notice. Behind me are my guys, equally alert and ready for disruption. But, for now, we sit like the civil gentlemen we pretend to be and sip our whiskey.
“I heard there’s been some issues over at the Dollhouse. A misunderstanding, I’m sure. Nevertheless, I’d appreciate it if you don’t interfere with the people I do business with. Jerry’s passing is a tragedy.”
