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“Enzo.” We shake hands and hug, much like I did to the rest of the men who are standing, not taking their seat until I do, as a sign of respect. A lot of these men watched me grow up, knowing I’d eventually take the seat I’m in now. My father, much like me, is an only son. What most didn’t expect was for me to become boss at the young age of thirty-nine while my father was still living. Dad was well into his fifties when he took over from my grandfather, and that was only because Nonno had a massive heart attack, passing away before he made it to the hospital.
“Boss,” he replies. I nod my head at Enzo then at the rest of the men, taking my seat. The first time I took my place here, with my father standing beside me, hand on my shoulder, telling his soldiers that I was now the boss, nerves wracked my body. But I held my own. There was no way I’d have shown what I felt on the inside. I straightened my shoulders, did what I was born and raised to do, and now here I am.
“Alright, let’s get things in order. I want Petrov out of here, nowhere near any side of The Strip. I’d be happy if the fucker were buried alive in the desert, head out of the ground, letting the vultures peck his eyeballs out.” Vulgar it may be, but it’s the truth. I take it one step farther. “Continue with your job, but if you come across Petrov, he’s to be delivered to me, alive.” I look at my men, seeing them nod in agreement. When Petrov moves in on me, he’s also moving in on them, taking a portion from the top of their own territories. It’s a no-fucking-win situation, which is why we need this shit taken care of, pronto. The one thing I’m keeping to myself is the selfish part of why I want Petrov put in the ground. None of the men would say anything; they know what a wild card the Russian fuck is and what could potentially go wrong.
The men start to get rowdy at the thought of shedding blood. I raise my hand, silently telling them to tone it down before I go on. Enzo’s head slowly turns towards me, getting my attention without speaking. The nod we exchange lets me know he agrees with this, not that I’d do anything different, but with him being my right-hand man, it’s better we work with one another than against.
“Silence.” They listen; their murmurs quiet down instantly. “The reward will be worth it. For incentive purpose, it’ll come at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” I stand up and move to the small bar we keep in the meeting room, needing a beer to calm the storm brewing inside of me. You see, Enzo met me at my place after I left Journey’s, him being the only one in my outfit who knows where and with whom I spend my time with. It wasn’t easy to digest that Petrov left a message with one of our businesses that we offer protection to. The ballsy motherfucker walked into the bar and gave a verbal message to a bartender. To watch our back along with our women and children. In a perfect world, I could go to my father and ask for advice, but that’s not the case. I’ll probably hear about that later, too; he’s the one who took Mom out of town, visiting family at the Amalfi Coast. They’d come home with no problem, but with them over there, my sister and her clan following behind them, it’s for the better the don’t. My sole focus will be on making things right for everyone, but most of all for Journey and me.
“Before you get money hungry, be smart. Eyes on the prize, but also watch your back and don’t forget you still have a job to do at the end of the day.” I turn around from the bar, one hand in my pocket, balled up in a fist since I’m unable to show any emotion, anger or worry. Not when you’re the boss of the Donotello Mafia. My other hand holds the bottle of beer loosely. I’m attempting not to take one long pull, guzzling it down in record time, which is what I’ll be doing as soon as the room is cleared.
“Yes, boss,” a few of the men answer. Some nod their head in respect. One man in particular, younger, a brawler of sorts, and a man who’s showing his worth, even if I was apprehensive at first for bringing him in at the age of twenty-one with little to no blood ties. I saw something in him, and Enzo did as well, which is why he is here now.
“You may go or stay and have a drink. Either way, you’re released,” I state, allowing myself to finally divulge in my beer. Not quite the gulp I’d take at my own home in the comfort of my office. If I were there, something much stronger would be consumed. Instead, I’m here, waiting for the room to clear to have another chat with Enzo and then figure out why the fuck Journey hasn’t called me like I told her to do.
“Enzo, I need to make a phone call,” I tell him when he’s close enough to me without anyone else able to hear our conversation. I’m not usually adamant about her calling me, knowing that what works when we’re in bed together doesn’t always work outside of the bedroom. And she’s making that apparent by not calling me. Looks as if I’ll be the one using the phone tonight.
“Go on. I’ll let you know if any of the men need you.” I nod at his statement and head towards the back where I have an office, small in size but enough to bust heads when needed, and make one important fucking phone call.
SIX
Journey
The closet is finally cleanedand organized; it took Delaney and me hours. Really, I went through everything. My best friend, though, he tackled that with swiftness. I’m talking color coordinated, short sleeve to long sleeve, every single item meticulously categorized. So, while eating our pizza and salad, drinking more than one bottle of wine with my best friend, I realized it helped. It soothed me more than I thought could happen. Usually, it takes a good solid week to bounce back after the charity gala. Thankfully, my best friend pulled through, and while I was supposed to call Nico, well, let’s just say that didn’t happen.
Instead, Delaney ordered a car when it was finally time to call it a night, the two of us giggling while he finally gave in to meeting Pierre as long as I’m there when it happens. Which means I’ll be calling Monica first thing tomorrow morning and we’ll be working our magic in securing Pierre as well. Darn stubborn men who we love and adore so much. “Speaking of, I need to call a certain man who I have no doubt will punish me in the best ways possible if I don’t,” I tell the now empty apartment while I take care of the empty food boxes after putting the leftover pizza in a reusable Ziplock bag. Thank you, two-day shipping for keeping me in check along with feeding my online shopping addiction. The salad doesn’t take up nearly as much room in the fridge, so I just close the lid and shove it in the fridge next to the other leftovers.
“Now, where is my phone?” My eyes glance towards the living room, but I don’t see it on the coffee table. No, the only things placed on top of the solid wood are two empty wine glasses along with not one or two wine bottles but three. Tomorrow is definitely going to be a doozy if I don’t get some water, pain killers, and sleep. As much as I want that, the need to call Nico consumes me more. As I turn the lights off throughout my condo, leaving the mess to clean up tomorrow, I remember that my phone is still in my closet, where I left it on the island. With a pep in my step, I practically skip knowing I’ll be talking to Nico sooner rather than later, and maybe I can convince him to come over even if it happens while I’m asleep again.
“Shit.” I’m inside my closet in no time. This place isn’t as big as Nico’s, but it’s the perfect size for what I need. I pick up my phone, the bottom half of my body leaning on the island, and see that there’s more than one missed call from Nico. It’s now close to midnight.
“Journey, do you know how fucking worried I’ve been about you?” Nico answers the phone with fire in his voice, and I’m not ashamed to say that my thighs clench, remembering that voice when we’re in bed together.
“Nico, I lost track of time. Delaney came over and, well, the cleaning of my closet commenced, and wine happened.” Nico is probably thinking the worst. Well, here I am, talking about the most mundane things around.
“Fuck, cazzo di cristo.”Fucking Christ,he says in Italian. If his mother heard him right now, she’d snatch him by his ear and drag him into the kitchen to put soap in his mouth, then she’d demand he say one hundred Hail Marys. How do I know all of this? Well, for one, Nico usually saves those words for when we’re in bed, his body consuming mine.
“I’m sorry, Nico, truly,” I admit, hoping to calm him in some way. Whatever he has going on lately, it’s not good. He hasn’t said a word, but he doesn’t need to. The way he’s worrying right now, plus the five missed calls on my phone when usually there would only be one and maybe a text message. Something is definitely brewing, and not in a good way.
“It’s going to be your ass, Journey, mark my words. The next time I’m at your place or you’re at mine, I’m going to tie your wrists together at your lower back, your body will be across my thighs, completely bare to me, and your ass is going to be mine in more than one way,” he groans on the other end of the line. I’m pretty sure he was trying to make that sound like a threat. Too bad for him it didn’t work, leaving me wet between my legs.
“Nico, if you’re trying to make me come with your words alone, you’re doing a great job of it,” I lighten the mood, though Nico isn’t taking the bait. There’s silence on the other end of the line. You could literally hear a pin drop, and as far as his breathing goes, it’s as if he’s hung up or something. I move the phone from my ear, looking at the screen before replacing it, “Nico?”
“I’m here. You’re lucky work has me consumed, or I’d drop everything I’m doing and work your body until you’re slick with sweat, body trembling, ass rising, begging for more of my hand to meet your skin.” I transfer my weight from one foot to the other.
“Nico.” My eyes slide close as I envision him doing exactly what he’s promising. The only thing I’m unaware of is how he’d place me over his lap. With my fingers grazing the floor, or would Nico be naked in almost a reverse-cowgirl position, my body open to his length as the palm of his hands rain down on the curve of my ass?
“Fuck, you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Journey. That’s going to happen as soon as I can have another day like today. The two of us, no one bothering me with work, just you and me.” If he thinks for one moment that I won’t be taking care of myself the second this conversation is over, he’ll be wrong. The shower, my fingers, and my imagination most assuredly will be happening.
“I can’t wait for that day to come,” I reply. Early today, it was like a dream. I got the Nico that I know and love, not the hard-ass.
“Me neither. Now, tell me, are you okay, truly?” He switches the subject almost a little too abruptly for my taste, and if he didn’t mean well, I’d call him out on it. That’s not the case tonight, though.
“I am. Having you here most of the day really helped. Add a little bit of purging from my system, good company in the form of Delaney along with carbs and wine, and I’m better. A lot really. Today was a good day.” There’s only one thing that could make this day amazing. But I’m not going to put that on Nico, not with the line of work that takes him away during the nights.
“Alright, you’ll call me if anything changes?” His voice deepens, the authoritative side shining through.
“I will, and this time, I’ll have my phone right next to me, should you call again.” I look at my closet once more. The bags of clothes to donate take up half of the floor space. The women’s shelter will be happy when I drop the clothes off. A smile takes over, making me feel a bit at peace after the events that have taken place.
