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Cain
The way her black dress clings to her magnificent physique forces my cock so tight against my trousers it makes my teeth itch. One glimpse of her perfection gets the blood pumping through my cold heart, but one look isn’t enough. If sanity permitted, I’d never take my eyes off of her again. Hell, I'd paper my walls with pictures of her so that this image didn’t have to be burned into my mind forever.
“Don Hawthorne, I apologize for the interruption. We have to discuss what comes next,” Emilio Rossi, my consiglieri, says. He's joined by Joe Costa, a Made Man and a true devotee to my organization.
Emilio’s voice brings me back to Earth. I shouldn’t be letting this woman distract me, not today, but I can’t help myself. From the second my eyes fell on her, I’ve been hooked. It’s a big problem when I’m standing a few feet away from my fallen enforcers coffin.
“Discuss what comes next? You’re kidding,” Joe’s high-pitched voice is like a razorblade to my ears. “Those Barberetti pricks took one of ours. I’ll put that mother fucker in the ground myself.”
Their distraction, welcomed as it may be, isn’t enough to pull me away from her. It’s chatter in my ear while my longing eyes drink in every ounce of her perfection.
“We have to approach this delicately,” Emilio says. He’s older than Joe, taller too, and the closest thing to family I have left.“Retaliation is at the forefront, but it isn’t wise to overplay our hand.”
“Overplay? Look at this mook,” Joe waves a disparaging hand. “We’re the toughest of the tough. We’re not gonna let some snot-nosed son of a bitch show us the ropes, are we boss?”
Joe’s such a little man, but his size doesn’t match the fire burning inside him. As much as I hate to admit it, I’d be lost without the two men standing in front of me. They’re guiding forces in times of trouble. The Devil and his counterpart, sitting on my shoulder, and steering me through the rocky waters ahead.
“What’s going on with you, boss?” Joe wipes bullets of sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. “Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I ignore his question. It’s not a ghost that’s caught my attention. She’s an angel.
“We hold on conversing.” I jam two fingers down the collar of my crisp white button-up to loosen its choking hold on my throat. “We should put Bruno in the ground first, huh?”
“I told you it wasn’t a good idea. Today's a big day for the boss,” Joe says.
It is a big day. I'm putting a dear friend to rest and adopting his son. The same boy the mother of my future children has strapped to her hip.
“Of course.” Emilio runs a pale hand over his balding crown. “We’ll reconvene once all is said and done.”
It’s unsurprising that they’re coming to me. Weddings and funerals are the golden standards to discuss business in an open place, but I can barely hold two thoughts in my head, let alone talk about how we’re going to get revenge. My primal instincts have kicked in. All I want to do is bury my throbbing erection inside the goddess strolling across my garden. One touch, one taste, one damn smell . . . That should clear my head and set me straight.
Emilio and Joe step aside. Joe speaks in hushed tones about Rocco Barberetti, and what he’s going to do as punishment when we get our hands on him. I can’t see Emilio’s eyes, but I know they’re rolling to the back of his skull. Emilio will have to be strong and take it because I have a more important matter to attend.
I'm about to meet the mother of my unborn children.
Confidence carries me the first few strides in her direction. They soon fade to slow plodding as my legs start feeling heavier and nervous sorrow consumes my greedy ambition. I shouldn’t throw my desires onto this woman meandering through my backyard. This is a funeral.
Focus Cain. Pay respect to the great man who passed fighting my cause, and prepare to bring his son into your fold. Who am I kidding? I've come so far and gotten so close, I can’t ruin my chance at experiencing her company.
A sudden pang strikes my belly. I stop dead in my tracks.
Behind me, the titans of my organization confer the future in secrecy and false grief. Ahead of me, a few underlings who served under my enforcer are smashing drinks and smoking cigarettes. Me? I'm in the middle of my garden with an uncomfortable stiffness in my pants and queasiness in my gut.
I’ve been in the company of many women in my life, but those relationships were platonic. The mafia comes first, and there hasn’t been much need to find a partner.Sex didn’t interest me. Company came in the way of action and adventure, and a sordid night of pleasure felt like wasted time.
Until now.A single view of this woman has shifted my priorities and shattered everything I believed a steady anchor in my life. I want to burn it all down and start over with her at my side.
Forty years of holding strong have brought me to the woman I want to be with. It couldn’t have come at a better time. I’m about to adopt a kid and I'm not the role model type.She can be. I can see it now, how she tucks him in at night and whispers those sweet nothings only a good mother can tell.
My fingers smash against the side of my leg in an out of sync thrumming.
I follow her with my eyes while I start moving again. Screw cowering behind anxiousness when I can start the rest of my life right here.
I can’t stop myself from drinking her in while I walk. Her ample breasts stretch the fabric of her figure-hugging dress. It clings to the full curves of her pale skin. The dress is meant to be modest, but this woman could make pajama pants and an oversized shirt the perfect lingerie.
She sways with Tony, my adopted child, on her hip. She coddles and caresses him while he fights back the tears of losing his father. My heart goes out to the boy on this sorrowful day, and I consider what I’m doing yet again. Is it right? Probably not. But every fiber of my being is screaming to get closer to her.
