Dancing with the Mob: A Dark Mafia Romance Two-Book Collection Page 26

  “But! And it’s a big but,” he continued, creasing one side of his mouth into a sneer of satisfaction; he was getting to ruin my present after all. “You will have fifty dollars cash per week. The rest is all pre-paid, your food is delivered three times a week, and the car is run on a fuel card, you can’t buy shit with it, except gas. It’ll get cleaned and maintained as needed.”

  My smile had dropped some, but my mind was racing. I never expected to be given so much freedom so quickly. This was really something else. The fact that I would have zero cash; that was nothing. I was Mikey Leone for fuck’s sake! With my smile and charms, hell, I could whisper money from a bank teller just by telling her how nice her hair looked that day.

  Slade continued the rest of his rules speech, but I wasn’t listening. I was already looking out the huge window, overlooking the grounds. I was free, flying out of the house, away from my father, away from these apes that killed people and beat up the rest. They were goons who were stealing what other people had and calling it a business. I was free at last! And, I could go wherever I pleased…

  “…Which brings me to the final condition of the terms of your employment as warehouse manager. You’ll report to work at eight am five days a week, leaving at five pm. You’ll be assigned a minder outside of work hours.”

  And there it was… the stone in the cherry on the cake of my freedom. “A what?” I asked, incredulously.

  “A minder,” Slade droned without looking up from the papers he’d produced from the envelope. “Someone to make sure you are safe and don’t come to any harm, by anyone’s hand…” Slade paused, almost smirking again. “...Or your own.”

  I heard the puffs of air escaping as I stammered in disbelief. I would be going from one prison to another, essentially. It dawned on me that my father just wanted me out of the house.

  “This is ridiculous!” I exclaimed, trying to laugh and sound unconcerned. It was clear that I was near hysterical, though. “I want to speak to my father. Right now!” I tried to roar, but every time I did, my voice cracked, only giving me tiny headshakes from Slade and people like him. “I want to see my father! This would never happen to Mia! We’re the same age! Why am I being held here against my will, huh!? What the fuck does he have over you people anyway?” I was up and out of the chair, waving my arms. I started to move toward Slade quickly, but his eyes sent me a definite I really wouldn’t.

  And I didn’t. I sat down again, my head in my hands, trying not to hyperventilate. Out of the corner of my eye, some yellow legal paper appeared with a fountain pen. I knew what it was, without reading it. Everything this family did was documented, witnessed and signed. All the legal stuff anyway. The rest was do as we tell you or we’ll fucking kill you.

  I signed. It didn’t matter anymore. I’d broken my own rules about becoming emotional about this family for the last time. This was the only chance I had, to get out of that house, to have some sort of life, a chance to begin anew. I would’ve been a fool to turn it down or fight the inevitable. I vowed to keep my mouth shut and cross each bridge when I came to it.

  I felt the familiar taste of resentment in my mouth though. Mia, my twin sister; she was the family success story. Her whole fashion empire had turned the family from mobsters to legitimate billionaires within a few years, all because she made Papa a large shareholder. Thus, giving him financial and political sway to legitimize everything he did. Mia would never see it, she couldn’t. She was too busy designing and succeeding where I could only fail. At least I could see the old man for what he really was, a cold-hearted killer, that’s all he was to me now.

  My misery and self-pity were short lived. A brand new house, practically a mansion in the suburbs, a new car and everything I would need to be a normal, functioning employee. Except cash, of course.

  The job at the warehouse was straightforward, receive shipping containers and supervise men who unloaded them, loading other goods back into the empty containers, ready to be sent elsewhere. It was easy, and I had the fearful respect of the men who worked there. The Leone name wasn’t something taken lightly and it was all Yes sir, Mr. Leone, right from day one.

  I didn’t have to wait too long for an opportunity either, it literally fell into my lap one Saturday morning after I’d been working at the warehouse for about a month. I had been saving up my allowance, and planned to paint the town red that night after giving Gray, the minder, the slip. I had to count my blessings. Gray was a pushover, and I could have been given Slade as my personal minder.

  I was in the office, finishing up some paperwork I’d left until the end of the month, when a container truck pulled up, blasting at the gates with its air horn. I went out to the gates to talk to the driver.

  “We’re closed, buddy! You’ll have to come back Monday, we…”

  “Look, pal! I got a five ton load here, to be delivered today. Ordered by Mr. Leone himself, so how ‘bout you open the fucking gates and I can do my job, you piece of shit!” I felt myself redden, then had to try real hard not to laugh.

  “Don Leone, huh. Antonio Leone himself?” I asked as innocently as I could.

  “No, you dipshit! Lucias Leone! I’m hauling from the border. Are you gonna open the fucking gate or not!?”

  A part of my heart felt a cool tinge of excitement run through it. Lucias was my uncle, my father’s brother. He only dealt in two products the family no longer wanted to be seen dealing with, and they were drugs and guns. It was unlikely that the container was full of Christmas trees.

  “Hey! Asshole! Are you deaf now as well as fucking stupid? Open the fucking gate!”

  I was holding up my hands, motioning for calm from this guy, he was amped up on something, but I couldn’t turn him away, not until I knew what was in the truck. I scratched my head, pretending to be as dumb as the guy wanted.

  “Ah, geez, I dunno. We’re really not supposed to…”

  The guy in the truck looked like he was about to explode with rage. “I’m giving you ten seconds to open that fucking gate before I…”

  “Is there a problem, Mr. Leone?” It was Gray. He’d come to babysit me after all. I thought he might’ve taken the day off. No such luck. I felt my smile so wide on my face, it was useless to try and hide it anymore.

  The guy in the truck had turned a strange green color. “No, no problem, thank you, Mr. Gray. Just deciding where we might stow this container over the weekend is all.” Gray nodded assent and began to open the huge gate, walking with it as it swung inward into the warehouse yard.

  I focused my gaze on the driver again. He was stammering now, blubbering something about not knowing who I was, how was he to know? And about how very sorry he was.

  “I’m really, very, truly sorry, Mr. Leone. It’s just; well… who would expect to see you or your family working here on a Saturday? I mean… The suit! I should’ve known! Oh my god, I am so sorry about that, Mr. Leone, it’s just…”

  I let him roll on until he looked like he’d shit himself entirely. I didn’t say a word. Once the gate was opened, I waved with my hand for him to go on in, pointing him to unload where the empty containers were kept. The rig heaved and spasmed as it shifted through a couple of gears to get across the yard. Gray wanted me to join him in the office where it was cooler. I wanted to stay right where I was, where I could keep an eye on my prize.

  I held up my hand once I’d heard enough of the guy’s whining. He was, quite reasonably, afraid for his life after what he’d just said to the only son of Antonio Leone. It was a death sentence and he knew it as well as I did.

  “Tell you what,” I said, “Mark is it? Mark. I think we can put this entire misunderstanding behind us in one easy step.” Mark’s eyes softened, his shoulders relaxed.

  “We can?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

  “Sure! I want you to leave the container here, just until tomorrow, then come back and I’ll tell you where to take it, okay?”

  His brow had creased, new sweat had formed. A different problem was emerg
ing in his mind.

  “But, ah… you see… Mr. Leone, sir? I have another run to do, across the border and I wouldn’t be able…”

  I had my cell phone out, I sighed loudly and gave Mark the I told you so look. “It’s alright Mark; I’ll make some other arrangements. I’ll just have someone come collect your truck and you can explain the rest to my father…”

  I couldn’t finish what I was trying to say anyway, Mark was in tears in an instant, wringing his hat in his hands, motioning to hold my arm, then pulling his own back, as if he’d tried to push his arm into lava.

  “Oh no! No! Mr. Leone! Please No! I’ll be back tomorrow! Tell me a time and I’ll be here, you can count on it!”

  Good boy, Mark. That’ll give me enough time to check the contents and arrange a suitable, alternative storage area for my new toy. If it is what I think it is… then holy fucken crap!

  Four

  Natalia

  I had jumped at the chance to get away from the house. Much as I enjoyed living like a hermit, I got itchy after a while and had to go play. The condos downtown were having their security upgraded, which meant CCTV would be offline for a few days which equaled privacy and a change of scenery for me. I would also get to go out the town. I fibbed to Papa, telling him I was going to stay with his half-sister, my aunt Pippa. A half lie, I’d go the following week.

  “Well, I understand you’re doing the building from the penthouses down, but I’m sure you could do this one last, that’s all I’m saying.” I was casual with my glance at his crotch. He took the bait.

  He smiled a crooked row of what looked like gnarled pillars you might see down at the local pier, then scanned his clipboard. “Sure thing, Ms. Uh… Bernardi?” He gulped and turned red as a beet.

  “Is there a problem?” I cooed, hugging the door frame like I was about to fuck it.

  “Uh, no! Not at all, we can come back and do the cameras for your penthouse whenever you like Ms. Bernardi. Here’s my direct number, just text or call when it’s convenient for you. You have a nice day!”

  He turned on his heel, hot-footing it to the elevators before I could say anything. The worst part about being a Bernardi was the effect it sometimes had on people. The best part? Same thing, strangely enough.

  I almost squealed with excitement as I closed the door and double checked all visual and audio security was offline. The locks and alarms would still work --just no private shows for prying eyes for a change.

  Adjusting the thermostat, I set it to chilly. Enough to justify a soak in the hot tub on a warm day, nothing new for Miami. I would soak and preen, then put my new disguise on to hit a new club I’d heard had opened. It was Leone turf, but they didn’t own it, just held the new owners to ransom every month. You know, taking protection for all their hard work to make sure the same Leone’s didn’t come back next month and burn it down.

  The Red Door was a club between the beach and the downtown districts. It was invitation only for the first week, but I got the distinct impression the owners were trying to raise more cash in a hurry. Probably to pay their first insurance installment. I had my new green eyes in, a loose fabric scarf over my head and sunglasses. Looking at myself before I left the condo, I was worried I wouldn’t blend in. Two seconds waiting in the line and I was breathing out, then normally. It was a freak-fest.

  “Oh my god! Oh. My. God! It’s you! Is it you? It Is!” My blood froze. The shrill scream of a very camp voice over the crowd waiting for admission couldn’t have been directed at me. I hoped it wasn’t. But it was.

  Fuck.

  “It is you, Oh my God!”

  A huge hairy arm was linked through mine, and before I knew it we were both inside the VIP-only section of the club. I still have no idea who that guy thought I was, even after I took off my sunglasses, but we chatted --shouted really, over the sonic boom of the DJ. He bought me two drinks before being whisked away after recognizing someone else.

  Whoever I was that night, it was someone special. I didn’t have to pay for anything after my mystery man pointed me out to the staff and management, something I would usually hate, but in this case it was working for me, not against me. Maybe this could be a good night aft--

  Oh my god. Oh. My. God.

  Now I was doing it. I saw him. Our eyes met. I did it without even thinking; without hesitating, instinctively giving him the usual signal with my eyes to lure my prey. I just saw him laughing, like he could read my mind. I was fine with that, a first time for everything. I’ll just wait for him to…

  What are you doing, Natalia? Where are you going?

  His eyes were like beacons from across the floor. There was a light which pulled me, like in a trance. I was walking over to him, not the other way ‘round, like it should’ve been.

  Prick spiked my drink. Nope. I feel fine. Apart from the biological urge to reach down wonderboy’s pants before I even speak to him, I feel fine.

  I had to touch him. It was weird. I’d never felt anything like that about anybody. Ever. As soon as we looked at each other I wanted to make a beeline to him, to his crotch, to stroke it, to feel him getting hard in my hands. I was getting more damp with each striding step. That look, it held me like a tractor beam, drawing me in like iron filings to a thick, hot magnet.

  Natalia! What the fuck are you doing!? Shoosh reason, I have a man to touch.

  The whole club seemed to melt into a greenish-blue haze. A fog that swirled around us as I got nearer to him. His eyes were like two points of black light, an invisible ray that stretched from him right into my heart, my soul? Did I even believe in crap like that?

  It was real though, and it was happening. I felt myself trembling, struggling to walk properly. I knew if he kissed me right at that moment I would come in my panties, I was so wet. I wanted him right there and then. But his look, his eyes just danced with amusement, like a puppeteer gently moving some strings. No effort and not really too fussed if the puppet came or fell in a heap.

  I stood in front of him. I felt a bead of my own heat run down the inside of my leg, past the hem of my mini. Our eyes hadn’t left each other’s since they first met. The bass line of the music pounded in time with my heartbeat in my ears, in my nipples, and across my mound as I fought to try not to shift, to wriggle in my satin panties to feel more of myself against myself. I struggled to keep my hands away from him, and myself.

  “I’m Mikey.” He’d moved in dangerously close, to half shout that into my ear. I heard my breath catch, then felt his hand as it touched the top of mine, so gently I could hardly feel it. It was like all the lights in the city went out and were compressed into that cubic inch of his skin.

  Our eyes were level again, in that light. It was maddening, like an itch that ran straight to the shape of my lips, my clit. My whole insides. I leaned in close, in reply, letting my stiff nipples rub on his bare arm. I held his earlobe gently between my lips for a second, tasting a fraction of him, before whispering into his ear with some authority.

  “I’m Natalia and I want to fuck you, little boy.”

  Mikey laughed out loud, slapped his thigh and then his look grew serious. I felt his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me in closer. I felt the roughness of his chin on mine before our mouths exploded together in a sea of warm current. The charge from Mikey’s hand was nothing, kissing him was, as I predicted, the cue for me to climax right there and then. Sensing this, Mikey’s smooth hand had shot up the inside of my mini, massaging me to a continuous orgasm as he kissed me so passionately, but with such tenderness that I could feel tears welling from deep inside my heaving chest. God it was perfect, as wave after wave of white heat pulsed through me.

  I struggled to stay upright, shuddering with a convulsive explosion which seemed to take my feet from under me. Mikey had me in a strong embrace, lifting me without effort the instant I was about to stumble.

  To anybody casually watching, it was a couple of dirty dancers. For me, it was as close to a religious experience as I could have go
t. After what felt like a year, I felt our faces pulling apart. I could see those eyes again, still dancing, still lit like all the stars, still smiling.

  I experienced a singular and polar opposite reaction within a split second.

  Fuck!

  “Not Mikey Leone?” I asked, suddenly feeling not very sexy, but knowing how men felt with a gun in their mouth, watching the trigger being squeezed.

  “Um, yeah, I’m Mikey Leone. Pleased to meet you…”

  He’d held up his glistening hand to shake between us with a smirk, and I caught a whiff of myself from it and fancied I saw the glint of his eye reflected in my own moisture. I felt the floor shift under me, like there was a rush of water going out and I was standing on it. I had to get out. I had to leave.

  “Wait! I didn’t even catch your name!” I heard Mikey behind me as I pushed through a forest of fabric, sweat and booze to fight my way to fresher air before I made an even bigger fool of myself.

  Free of the club, I heard my heels crackle and stumble on the pavement. I was trying to run in three-inch heels and a mini in eighty-degree heat, but I had to put as much space between me and that as fast as I could. I hailed the first cab I saw, but they honked and drove past.

  Motherfucker!

  I hailed my next with a hundred dollar bill I had wrestled from my bra strap.

  You saw that alright, didn’t you? Asshole.

  Within seconds, I was facing the opposite direction, with bad A/C and some sort of tribal song to serenade me as I made my way back to the condo, wondering, questioning; doubting. What the fuck just happened?

  I told him my name. I told him I wanted to fuck him. I just came in public with a Leone hand up my skirt.

  I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. The driver’s eyes darted back to the road as I saw my own. One blue, one green, and a set of lips that looked like a finger painting by a kid with three fists.

  “You okay, Miss?” the driver asked, holding my hundred up to the traffic lights as we waited for the next change.