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"Man, after all the hot air you've been blowing all these years, I better be on the VIP list." Toro grinned.
"Hey, it's going to be a high-class joint," Marco smirked. "Who said a dog like you is invited?"
Toro thumped him in the shoulder. "Asshole."
Over Marco's years running bars for the Toscanos, an image had begun to form in his mind: a dark, sultry room filled with the scent of cigars and good whiskey, his favorite tunes, and the hum of low, intimate conversations. A sanctuary away from the dogshit world outside, where he could forget about the bloodshed and betrayals that were an unfortunate part of his line of work.
And there, behind the bar, he saw himself: dressed to kill in a tailored suit, a wicked grin playing on his lips as he poured drinks for the patrons who'd come to see and be seen. He could feel the power in that position, the allure of being the man who called the shots – both literally and figuratively.
"Ah, it does sound good," Toro continued, oblivious to Marco's inner turmoil. "A place where we can let our hair down after a hard day's work, where everybody knows our names—and where nobody asks any questions about where our money comes from."
"Yeah," Marco agreed, a soft smile playing over his features. "It'll be perfect."
But as much as Marco tried to focus on this vision of his future, there was now a nagging sense of emptiness at its core. A void that seemed to grow larger every time he pictured Joey's face, his expressive eyes filled with a mix of lust and innocence that made Marco's heart race.
As they drove away from the city, Marco couldn't help but glance in the rearview mirror one last time, as if searching for a glimpse of Sinsation in the darkened streets. He felt an overwhelming sense of possessiveness and desire well up inside him, making his chest feel tight with longing.
He steeled himself against these feelings. "Yeah, I'm gonna focus on getting that bar up and running," Marco said, trying to redirect his thoughts toward the future. "Once I've got that in place, all this other bullshit won't matter anymore."
"Sounds like a plan," Toro agreed, nodding firmly as they disappeared into the night.
Chapter fifteen
Joey
"Hey,there,"Joeysaidwith a flirtatious wink as he leaned over the bar, carefully balancing the tray of drinks in his hand. He felt a strange mix of excitement and nervousness with each passing moment, his gaze frequently darting to the door.
"Hey, yourself," Mark—one of the regulars—replied with a grin, his eyes raking up and down Joey's toned body clad in tight jeans and a white tee "You're on fire tonight."
"Thanks," Joey responded, though his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment every time the door opened, only to reveal another face that wasn't Marco's.
The handsome mafioso had become a staple of his evenings at the club, and despite knowing how dangerous Marco was, Joey found himself looking forward to their banter.
And, if he was being honest, to what they'd left interrupted…
"Earth to Joey," Mark teased, snapping his fingers playfully in front of Joey's face. "You seem distracted. Anything I can do to help?"
"Sorry, just… lost in thought," Joey murmured, shaking his head and forcing a smile. "Nothing you need to worry about."
"Alright, but if you change your mind," Mark trailed off suggestively, leaving the offer hanging in the air as Joey continued making his rounds.
"Champagne for six!" called one of the girls, and Joey dutifully picked up the bottle, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in his gut.
He hated that he cared so much about Marco's absence. After all, the man was a criminal. A sexy, charismatic criminal, but a criminal nonetheless.
His family was the reason his father had fallen so fast into debt. His family was the reason Joey was here.
Before Joey could dwell on it any further, the doors to the club burst open with a loud bang.
Everyone froze in place. In stormed a group of men, their faces twisted into menacing snarls—
And guns in their hands.
Panic instantly erupted, and people scrambled in every direction, desperate to escape the sudden chaos.
"Everyone down on the floor!" one of the armed men bellowed, waving his gun threateningly. "Nobody move!"
Joey's heart raced as he ducked behind the bar, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He knew he couldn't just cower there and wait for something terrible to happen—he had to do something. And there was only one person who could help.
