Lust for Danger: A Mafia Romance -- Book One: The Family [Erotic Mafia Romance Book] (4 page)

When you were talking to Dominic Pirelli, you
always
had to be on your toes.

Chapter Five

Dominic took a long sip of his whiskey, curling his tongue approvingly as he felt the pleasant, burning smoothness swirl around his gums. He held the glass up to the light, nodding as he examined its rich, golden color.

Contrary to the Italian stereotype, he wasn’t much of a wine-drinker – but damn, could he appreciate a nice glass of Scotch.

His eyes flicked over to the TV monitor near his desk, displaying a near-empty club on the small black-and-white screen. The picture switched to a view of the parking lot, and he watched the two men he’d just been meeting with as they climbed into the back of a silver Mercedes.

They’d brought the scotch as a gift – a peace offering, of sorts. But even though he was drinking the whiskey, Dominic wasn’t sure if he was willing to accept the peace offer or not.

The door opened, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up from his desk with minor annoyance.

“Boss,” Vinnie said. “It’s Carlo.”

“Can’t you knock?” said Dominic. “How many times I gotta tell you?”

But his cousin just stared back at him with that dumb look of apology Dominic knew all too well. He sighed. You couldn’t change some people.

“Send him in,” he sighed.

“Sure, boss.” The door closed momentarily, and Dominic had just a moment to collect his thoughts before Carlo Ambrosi walked in.

Jesus, the Ambrosis. What a family. Out of the whole neighborhood, he didn’t think one family had given him more headaches then they had. It had all started with Giorgio’s museum – it had seemed like a simple enough loan, but of course the old man was one of those types to put “artistic integrity,” or whatever you wanted to call it, above profit. It hadn’t been long before Dom had realized he was never going to get his money back.

If it had been anyone else, he would have solved the problem one of two ways, with a noose or a bullet. But he couldn’t do that to Giorgio. The guy’s wife had taught Dominic in kindergarten, for Christ’s sake. Dom may have been many things, but he wasn’t a monster.

So he’d called Giorgio into his office, and they’d worked out a deal. His son Carlo would join the family and work for Dominic until the debt was paid off. It wasn’t supposed to have been more than a year or so. Dom knew the kid had a future in front of him.

But here it was, eight years later, and Carlo was more wrapped up with the Pirelli family than ever.

That was the thing about the Mafia: it grabbed hold of you. And once you fell in with the family, you never really left.

“Evening, Dominic,” said Carlo, walking in and touching the gold ring on Dominic’s left hand before grasping his right in a firm handshake.

That’s one thing Dominic always liked about Carlo: he was respectful, but he wasn’t a brown-noser. Some of the guys acted like puppy dogs, always looking up to Dom wide-eyed and seeking approval. But Carlo was smart; he saw what it took to earn Dom’s respect. He worked hard, and he carried himself well – he was even a role model for some of the younger guys.

Sometimes, Dominic even wished Carlo had been born a Pirelli.

“
Mio figlio
,” Dom said. “You want a drink?” He picked up the bottle of Scotch and offered it to him. “It’s good stuff.”

Carlo settled down in the chair across the desk, taking the bottle and looking it over.

“Wow,” he said. “Macallan 18? What’s the occasion?”

Dominic laughed. “No occasion. It was a gift. Come, have a drink.” He handed him a glass.

“A gift…” Carlo repeated, looking towards the door as he poured himself a finger’s-width of whiskey.

Dominic’s smile clouded over for a second; he could almost see the gears turning. He knew Carlo was wondering who those men had been. Hell, for all he knew, Carlo might even have recognized them. But he also knew Carlo was smart enough not to ask questions about matters that didn’t concern him.

…Except that the two men
did
concern Carlo. Very much, in fact. But for the time being, Dom couldn’t let him know that.

“You seem tense,
figlio
,” he said, changing the subject. “Something wrong?”

Carlo smiled slowly, swirling the whiskey in his hand before speaking. “Vinnie said you were in a bad mood,” he said. “I was just wondering what he did this time.” The two men shared a look of amusement.

“Fucking Vinnie,” said Dominic, returning the smile. “Don’t get me started.” He held his glass out across the table. “Cheers.” They clinked their glasses, and each took a sip.

“Wow,” said Carlo. “That’s amazing. Thanks, Dom.”

“Of course.”

They sat silently for a moment, each lost momentarily in their thoughts. There was a mutual respect between them, even though they came from very different worlds and had strong – often conflicting – opinions. It was a strange type of bond between them, even bordering on friendship. They both understood how the game was played.

But while Carlo often wished he’d never fallen in with the mafia, Dominic was the opposite – he
loved
this life, and he was very good at it. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

“Carlo, you know, you got a good head on your shoulders,” Dominic said finally, breaking the silence. “Not like your damn brother.”

Carlo winced. “What’d he do this time?”

“Same old, same old,” Dom replied. “Pissed off a bookie at the Mediterranean Club last week – fucked up the count again. I swear, Carlo, your brother Rocky can’t do math for the life of him. The owner thought we were making a statement or something; he came down here
personally
to ask me about it.”

Dom chuckled, sipping his whiskey.

“It worked out, of course. I told the guy – I said, listen, if you want your full take, you better start pulling your weight for the family. You think we’re doing this for free? So now I’ve got him passing me tips about which cops are working the black market gambling circuit.”

Carlo nodded. “But you still put Rocky out on the docks.”

Dominic’s face darkened. “Watch it,
figlio.
You know the rules, and so does Rocky. Your brother doesn’t wise up, I can’t trust him doing anything but dockwork. He’s gotta learn. You got that?”

“Yeah, boss,” Carlo replied sullenly.

“You were fresh once, too, you know,” Dom continued. “Remember? You couldn’t knock over a bowling alley, for Christ’s sakes. I had to send Luca down there to bail you out.”

“I remember.”

“I know you do,” said Dominic, draining the last of the whiskey in his glass. “Now. About my money…”

Carlo took out the wad of cash and placed it on the desk.

“Three thousand, eight hundred,” he said, as Dom ruffled through the banknotes. “That’s from the whole south district, minus Giovanni who requested one month’s extension.”

“What?” said Dom, pausing. “Why’s that?”

“His son got whacked,” said Carlo. “You probably heard about it – the Italiabank heist? Fucking cops filled him so full of holes they had to do a closed-casket funeral.”

Dominic whistled. “…Shit. Does he need anything?”

He shook his head. “I sent him your condolences, and I told him just to talk to me if he needs something. He sends you his gratitude.”

“Good. And I trust you gave him the extension.”

“Course I did. I told him you understand family comes first.” Carlo paused suddenly, inhaling sharply as he spoke the words. Dominic didn’t have to guess what was coming next.

“Dom… any leads on my father?”

They stared at each other hard. Dominic traced his index finger around the rim of his glass, his bottom lip open slightly as if weighing his next words.

Finally, he sighed.

“Not yet, kid. Not yet. I’m working on it.”

Carlo stayed silent, but the frustration was written all over his face.

After a moment, he nodded. “Okay,” he said, suddenly throwing back the rest of the whiskey and standing up rather abruptly. “Then if you don’t mind, boss, I think I should get out of here.”

Dominic nodded. There was nothing more to say about it.

“Alright,
figlio
,” he said. “Be good.”

“Yeah.”

But as Carlo stooped to touch Dominic’s ring, Dom stopped him with a hand pressed on his shoulder. His head snapped up in surprise, and the two of them regarded each other, sharing a strange look of understanding.

“I’m working on it, kid,” Dom said again. “We’ll get it sorted out. I promise you.”

Carlo’s eyes clouded over slightly, and the corners of his mouth turned down hard as he nodded. “Thanks, Dominic.”

He turned and left, and Dominic’s eyes lingered on the door for a long moment, a strange, quizzical look on his face. He sighed, opened up the Macallan and poured himself another drink.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, lost deep in his thoughts.

Carlo really
was
a good kid. But no matter how much he liked him, Dom couldn’t afford a war with the Berlottis, not now. It wouldn’t make a difference, anyway – wouldn’t change what had happened, wouldn’t bring Carlo’s father back.

But it was a dangerous game to be playing. He didn’t like keeping Carlo in the dark about things – it wasn’t right. Dom was a man of morals.

And if Carlo found out the hard way, things were going to come to a boiling point one way or another.

Dominic sipped his whiskey contemplatively, thinking over what the hell he was going to do. So many headaches, all for that stupid museum.

The fucking Ambrosis…

Chapter Six

As Jessica slid the key-card into the door of their hotel room, her breath caught short in her chest. She had a brief, sudden flash of terror as she wondered what would greet her on the other side of the door.

For a split-second, she didn’t know what would worse: to find Tyler waiting for her there in the room… or to find him gone.

But when she opened the door and flipped on the light, she saw that he’d already cleared out his stuff. Her suitcase was packed up neatly at the foot of the bed; he’d even made the bed, removing all trace of his presence from the rumpled covers they’d shared just that morning.

He was gone.

Her eyes welled up instantly; seeing the room empty of his presence somehow made the breakup seem all the more real, and all the more final. Jessica was a strong woman, and she knew she’d made the right decision – but still, this was a lot to process all at once.

She closed the door and flopped down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling while allowing herself a moment to grieve for the love that she’d lost.

Of all the breakups she’d had, this one didn’t feel quite as painful as some of the others. Maybe that should tell her something – maybe it was never right to begin with. She’d known they were very different people, and it had been a struggle, at times, to make it work. But she’d tried, damn it – she’d really tried. After all, weren’t relationships about compromise?

But there was compromise, and then there was…
compromise
. And some things – like cheating – were non-negotiable.

“Fucking asshole,” she muttered to herself, wiping her eye with the back of her hand. “Fucking idiot.”

She peeled herself off the bed and heading straight to the bathroom. A long, hot shower would help to clear her thoughts.

And indeed, it did the trick – as she stood there under the steaming hot water, she realized her sadness was far outweighed by her confidence that she’d made the right decision.

It was a sad thing that had happened, sure, but at least she didn’t feel like she’d made a mistake.

Stepping out of the shower, she realized it was only 8:30 PM, and she was suddenly struck by how lucky she was. It was a beautiful evening in Rome, and she had the night to herself – with no commitments, no obligations to anyone. She could do anything she wanted; no more worrying about what Tyler wanted to do, or whether she was boring him with all her talk about what he always referred to as her “art stuff.”

She could go wander down to the Trévi fountain, and linger as long as she wanted by the beautiful, larger-than-life marble sculpture with all its intricate detail.

Or maybe she could spend the night curled up in her bathrobe, watching old movies and ordering Champagne from room service.

Hmm… those were both good options. But they were both so typical-Jessica. She’d always been the bookish type, more interested in museums than nightclubs. And tonight, she was looking to live it up a little.

She smiled.

For the first time in a long time, she felt like going out on the town.

She walked over to her closet and opened it up, inspecting the dresses she’d packed and running her hands over them one by one as she considered her options. Mostly she’d brought “daytime” outfits, and she wasn’t too inspired by what she saw before her. But as she kept looking, she started to piece something together in her mind.