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I can picture the sign that would hang in pride on the front of the building.Rosetti Motors and Servicing. The life I want is so close I can touch it. Taste it. Smell the engine grease.
This place could be mine.
Itshouldbe mine.
But my brothers are ruining my dreams. I earned good money for the family over the years, but like an idiot, it didn’t go into my bank account, it went into the family account that my father and now Faber controls. It must add up to hundreds of thousands of dollars, shifting their suspect imports, overseeing so many illegal clubs. I busted my guts for the Rosetti family, and when I asked for what’s rightfully mine, they’ve turned their backs on me. I’m a loose cannon, the unreliable one, but the irony is I don’t even want to be a criminal. I’d be happier up to my elbows in car engines every day, buying, selling, and fixing up motors. I worked hard for the family. Now I want something that’s mine.
My wife has enough money to buy this place fifty times over, but I’ll tie a bungie cord to my balls and jump of a cliff before I go begging to her. I know just how Giulia would act if she bankrolled this place for me.
Lazzaro just loves tinkering with his little cars.
You’re going there? Again? Didn’t you go there yesterday?
Please, Lazzaro, stop pretending your silly hobby is anything close to real work.
I’d rather not have this place than have it under those conditions.
I stand up from the hood of my car with a groan. So, I guess I’m not having it.
I need a drink to drown my misery. Or ten, in a place where the other drinkers have never even heard of kale and quinoa.
I head across town to a place where the streets are comfortably run-down, the men wear ripped jeans and faded T-shirts, and the girls sport the best winged eyeliner in the city. I’m about to head into a bar when I spot my favorite strip club, Peppers. Your feet stick to the carpet, but the girls are gorgeous.
Treat yourself, Laz.
But when I get inside, I can barely concentrate on my beer, let alone the bartender with great tits or the dancer on stage with even better tits and an ass so tight you could bounce a coin off it. A few girls put a hand on my shoulder and ask me if I want a private dance. I thought I did, but now it doesn’t seem so appealing, so I shake my head.
I’ll finish my beer and go. Tonight’s a bust.
“Please welcome to the stage, Tasha.”
I glance up, more to show some respect to the girl who’s performing than from interest. I’m about to drop my gaze when something about the slender, lilac-haired girl snares my interest.
First of all, she’s so pretty and petite that my hands ache to get around that little waist of hers. The lilac hair makes her seem ethereal, and there’s a flirty, knowing curve to her lips. She’s got the tiniest pair of tits I’ve ever seen. Almost no tits, but adorable, raspberry pink nipples that have my tongue moving against the roof of my mouth. The way she’s dancing is incredibly sexy, swaying that cute little ass and taking languorous swings around the pole.
Suddenly my dick is standing to attention. I can’t tear my eyes away from her, and from what I can tell in my peripheral vision, every other man in this joint is staring at the pixie on stage as well.
She’s a full minute into her dance before I realize with a jolt that I know this girl. I leap to my feet, my chair shooting out behind me and clattering to the floor.
“Mia.”
The girl calling herself Tasha has been smiling from one man to the next, and finally her gaze lands on me. Those brown eyes of hers widen momentarily as they meet mine. But then they’re moving on to the next man, that languid fuck-me expression being bestowed on someone else.
My stepdaughter’s a stripper? I’ve just caught her, and she’s going to keep dancing like nothing’s happened?
No way. No fuckingway. I grasp the edge of the stage, preparing to leap up and drag her off it.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” A bouncer grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me back.
I round on him and point at Mia with a furious forefinger. “That’s my stepdaughter.”
The bouncer glances from me to Mia and back again. The anger melts from his face, but he compels me back to my seat and rights it for me. “Sorry, man. She’s chosen to be up there, so you need to suck it up or get out.”
I can’t sit down, so I death-grip the back of my chair for the rest of Mia’s dance. Guys keep holding out bills to her, and she lets them slide the money into the waistband of her G-string, and their fingers accidentally-on-purpose graze her flesh. Every time one of these lowlifes touch her, I want to drag them out of here by their hair, but the bouncer has his arms folded and his narrowed gaze directed right at me. One wrong move, and I’ll be outside where I can’t get to Mia.
When she finishes her dance, she has enough bills tucked into her panties to wallpaper a house.
I open my mouth to call her down off the stage, but she ignores me, gives a flirty little wave to the room, and disappears back the way she came.
