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

by Suzanne Hart

  After I hung up, I got to thinking about the whole mess with the lawyers. In truth, they’d shown me the papers, with the entire family fortune being in the hands of Jack, should Papa die. Oh, I know, he was old, and nobody lives forever, but it scared me to even think he wouldn’t be there one day. We’d never even been close, not like people thought we were. It’s just that he was the only strong person I could think of. If something got in his way, he’d find a way around it. If he couldn’t do that, well... there were other ways of getting what you wanted, or getting rid of what you didn’t.

  Mikey was out of the will. He’d been left his trust fund, but payable only as a monthly allowance, and he had to pass a drug test every month to get it. It wasn’t a lot of money either, not compared to what we were used to living on. I’d tried to help Mikey in the past, with money, with work, with everything. Papa had been furious, then warned me off it. I hate to say it now, but he was right. And Mikey was definitely a total fuckup. He’d say whatever he had to for five minutes to get what he wanted, and then he’d be gone.

  He’d ‘borrowed’ some jewellery of mine once, when I used to let him come and visit. It was some of our mama’s jewels. I’d had them out to go to a launch later that day. But when I got out of the shower, they and Mikey, were gone. He was gone for almost a year. Papa never spoke about how, but he got the jewels back, every single piece. He would only ever cross himself whenever somebody brought it up, then advise them to forget they’d even thought about it.

  Papa hadn’t so much as mentioned Mikey to me since that day, but I do know he’s been in more trouble than that, since then. I also suspect that my PA, Giles, knew something more. Just a hunch, but I hadn’t had the chance to confront him with it.

  Jack told me earlier that Mikey was at the Lakehouse. That was good in one way, but not good in another. We used to go to the Lakehouse when Mama was alive, for holidays, and we were so happy back then. Now, I know it’s used only for the family business. Bad business I’m not allowed to, and don’t want to know about. I’m just glad he’s safe, and maybe, maybe this time he’ll get cleaned up so that we can have him back. So we can be a proper family again.

  I knew I’d have work to deal with sooner or later, so I freshened up and took my private elevator down to my office from the penthouse suite. People kept trying to tell me to get a place outside of the city, away from work. But I knew I had to keep everyone, including myself, right where I needed them.

  Ding!

  Coming out of the leather-lined doors, I saw Giles himself, at my desk. On my side of the desk. He was frozen to the spot. I’d finally caught him in the act of doing... something.

  I felt my stomach drop and my pulse went through the roof, but I had to, as always, play it cool, calm and collected.

  “Can I help you, Giles?” I asked, asking nonchalantly, while internally already dangling him out of the thirtieth story window, demanding answers.

  “I was... I just…uh... um, I had to leave you a note! But seeing as you’re here now, I can tell you in person.”

  I always asked myself why I bothered to have Giles around. He was a sneak, and a fucking eavesdropper. He had absolutely no imagination either. But, he was very organized, and he did a lot of dealings with designers and agencies I just couldn’t be bothered with myself. The trade-off was this type of thing. Maybe more than I knew. It was definitely time to get to the bottom of it.

  “Giles.” I motioned to one of the embroidered French seats, opposite my desk. “I think we should have a little chat.”

  His face turned pale, he gulped and sat down, crossing his knees in that way, making one of his restless legs start up. It always made me feel more anxious than I already was.

  He faked a smile, flamboyantly tossing his head back. “I’m all yours, darling! What did you want to talk about?”

  I’d sat myself down at my desk; everything seemed to be in order. I didn’t keep anything of importance in my office for the very reason I’d just witnessed. Something was rotten with Giles, and I knew too, it had a connection with Mikey, and the Bernardi family.

  I had just opened my mouth to speak, when Teresa, one of my receptionists came bursting into the office. Giles spun around and I was left sitting there with my mouth open.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt Ms. Leone, I am. But... but. The news! It’s on the news! Mr. Hamilton, he’s been… and… your brother… it’s just...” She’d lost control of herself and started blubbering. Giles got up and put his arms around her.

  I flicked on the giant screen TV above the fireplace. The Leone name seemed to be on every channel alright.

  I went with a local channel, no politics, just the facts. “…Once again, the top story of the hour. Controversial attorney, Mr. Derek Hamilton has been found dead in an inner city penthouse apartment, in what appears to be a murder-suicide…”

  I raised my eyebrows momentarily. That was quick; I’d just seen that bastard this morning. I wonder if this cancels the legal arrangements Papa had made him draw up. Jack did say something about him in a call ... Oh Jack! What have you done?

  “...Details are sketchy at this stage, but police have confirmed that a second body has been found in the building, directly linked to the death of Mr. Hamilton. Hamilton is the notoriously-famous attorney for the allegedly retired and physically ailing crime boss, Antonio Leone. Mr. Leone’s daughter, Mia Leone is the CEO and chief designer of the Mia Bella fashion house…”

  I was about to switch it off, when a hand appeared from off-screen, handing the newsreader a sheet of paper. It looked well-rehearsed, corny even, but I guess, sometimes, it did happen.

  “…And this just in. The second victim in the slayings has been identified as Mr. Falco Bernardi, the youngest son of the notorious Bernardi family, whose dealings in the criminal underworld have also been watched closely by authorities. Police have refused to speculate over the deaths as being criminally related, with the pair appearing to have been in a gay relationship gone sour, with murder-suicide as the apparent motive...”

  I heard Giles gasp; he’d gone an extra shade of white, even a little green. I found it interesting how his lower lip was trembling before he let out another cry. And then, just like that, he was gone. He’d shot out of the door before I could even say anything. I strongly suspected he wasn’t racing to organize a press conference, or to brief all staff on the likely media circus that would be raining down on us at any given moment. I’d have to deal with him... later. That’s if Jack Slade doesn’t catch up with him first.

  I sat Teresa down, patting her hand for a moment before buzzing in her own PA, Millicent, or Millie to everyone else. I liked Millicent, though.

  “Millicent, I need you to send a memo to all departments, standard media-silence stuff. Except, I also need you to call a press conference. We’ll have them sniffing around here soon enough, may as well beat them to it. It’ll be a great chance to focus some media attention on our new line and upcoming show.” Millicent looked like I’d just handed her a dead fish and told her to solve world hunger or world peace.

  “But the news. What about the lawyer, Mr. Hamilton? He’s dead! Didn’t he do some work for us a while back?” She looked like she was ready to tear up as well. For god’s sake, am I alone in this world? The man was an absolute snake.

  I put on my caring, but-I-need-you-to-do-some-shit-for-me-right-now face. “I know. Millicent. It’s a tragedy, but we have to be strong, to keep going. It’s what Mr. Hamilton would’ve wanted. Now, honey. I need you to get Mark up here right away; we need to plan this press conference, okay sweetie?” I felt like scratching her, but my soft purring did the trick, with Millicent finding some feet where she’d had none before. She took Teresa out of my office, and, hopefully started to organize something.

  I couldn’t call him again? No. I wouldn’t. It was nothing to do with me. Let the boys deal with boy stuff, Mia. Just row your own boat for now. Oh, Jack!

  I stared absently out of the window for a few minut
es, just as the daylight hours were beginning to wane, and the afternoon crowds below slowed down. They’d comfortingly taken on a slower-moving, darker sheen than they had done that same morning.

  Millicent knocked and returned not too much later, with Mark, from marketing. No, that’s not how he got the job, he was just a master with words, and looked and sounded believable, no matter how much horse shit he was shoveling. He could shoot your family in front of you, but you wouldn’t be mad, because he’d tell you a story that you’d believe, and something which made sense. Which made it all alright again.

  “Mark, great shirt. And thanks for coming up.”

  He was never fazed to meet me in person; he had a curious how the fuck did she do it? look on his face, pretty much every time I spoke with him face to face.

  “Oh, and Millicent? Before I forget, can you get my manicurist up here, pronto? I need these claws filed down by tonight, thanks.” If I was going to be stroking the jackhammer later on, I didn’t want to be fingering myself with inch-long nails again. Jack was a prick, sure. But in my fantasy he had round edges, not sharp.

  Jack, mmm.

  Three

  Jack

  I laughed some more with Don Leone, until he grew tired. And I reminded myself that I would never forgive him, either. I most likely wouldn’t kill him after all, but I certainly wanted to be there to watch him die when it did happen.

  A soldier will always follow orders. A good soldier will follow them without thinking. The best soldier will factor in every possibility and have his own contingency, which will still pertain to the original orders. A bad soldier pretends to take orders, even carries them out, but he makes his own orders as he goes along. I was definitely a bad soldier, but so was Don Leone.

  He’d looked off behind me again, and I could tell he was thinking about the past, about what could have, and most probably should have been. Then, he took a deep breath in, as if his own body had forgotten to restore itself. He looked at me and sighed as he exhaled.

  “Jack. Jack. Jack.” He frowned and smiled at the same time, checking his cigar ash before holding my eyes with his own again.

  “So, the lawyer, Hamilton. Gone? Good! But there’s something else you haven’t told me, Jacky boy. Something you forgot to say, choosing instead to have a pillow fight with old man, eh?” He drew deeply on the thick cigar, the ember glowing almost white-hot, characterizing his own unhappiness, including his growing rage which was trapped in a pathetic and sick old body.

  I nodded slowly, looking down. Don Leone had a knack for drawing the truth out of me, and never at the moment that I wanted to tell it. Never when I’d had enough time to make my story sound convincing. So I just let him have it, both barrels. With any luck he might have stroked out, or had a fucking heart attack. Something which would save me a whole lot of trouble.

  “It’s Mikey, Don Leone. He...” Don Leone’s hand was up again, this time his eyes showed genuine anger, even at the mention of his son.

  “Just tell me, Jack. Tell me, what have you done? I don’t need to hear that name in this house! Answer me!” Playtime was over. Don Leone was back.

  “I shot Falco Bernardi then used his dead hand to shoot Hamilton in the face, setting it up so they were both lovers. Falco shot Hamilton, and then himself. At least that’s the story the press...” It felt Like Don Leone’s hand had filled the room. It was up again. And so I sat back, waiting for his rage. It never came.

  His eyes softened for a moment, then he looked off and into the distance again, then he started to hum a few bars from one of his favorite arias. Closing his eyes, he continued to hum it, until a single tear rolled down his cheek.

  “My wife. My first wife, my real wife, Maria. She used to love the opera. I would go, and sit. I hated it. But to see her face when the music played, to feel her hand squeeze mine. To feel her heart with mine... it was… magical.”

  I knew better than to ask dumb questions, or interrupt Don Leone. I stayed still, listening to his story.

  “She was so beautiful, Jack. She gave me Mia, Mia’s just like her, y’know. Those Bernardi’s, though. They never could stand to see me happy. She got sick, as you know. She died.” His voice broke off as he sobbed with his eyes shut tight for a full minute. I wanted to leave, to make ready for the shit cloud that was coming, but Don Leone was the head. I had to let him know everything, and he had to give his blessing.

  “Carlo Bernardi,” he finally said, with such chilling coldness that I sat up a little straighter in my chair. I looked at Don Leone now, his face was stone, and his eyes glowed hotter with a seething, passionate rage that I would only ever see in a family member’s eyes.

  “He did it. He killed her. He took my Maria from me.” He looked back into my eyes, paying attention that I was still listening, that I was still being totally present.

  “I went straight to him. After she died. I didn’t even have to confront him. He was a broken man, Jack. He knew he had committed the cardinal sin of killing an enemy’s wife. To kill a woman is bad enough, but to take the life of your enemy’s wife. It’s as low an act as is humanly possible.”

  He paused, only to spit over the side of the bed, before crossing himself with the holy cross.

  “He was on his knees, begging me not to hurt his family, not to kill any of them. He thought I’d come to kill his wife for retribution. He told me to shoot him instead, right there, but I just spat, like just now. Then I turned and left.”

  I was on edge now, like my nerves had been bristled awake. I knew the Bernardi and Leone history, but only really since I had come back from active service. I only really knew what Don Leone had told me about his wife. I knew she’d died, but that was all. The rest I didn’t ask.

  Up until lately, I’d only ever done what I was told. Since Don Leone had been sick, I’d taken over more responsibilities, making more decisions on my own. I’d gained the respect of the men, and nobody had gotten in our way. We hadn’t caused any open trouble with the Bernardi’s, and they’d left us alone too.

  “This will bring trouble Jack, big trouble,” Don Leone said somberly. “You have brought a great deal of trouble to my house now.” He was serious, dark and brooding. His hand absently reached for something that wasn’t there. Then, he smiled again, almost laughing. He was still emotionally drained from the memory of his beloved Maria.

  “I’ve waited years to stick it to that motherfucker, Bernardi. You did good Jack! Good boy! I wished I could’ve been there to see the look on Carlo Bernardi’s face as he saw it on the news. I’m assuming you made sure, for certain, that it’s exactly how he’d find out!?” His eyes were shining again, and he sat up taller in his bed.

  He shook with more laughter at the thought. A bit of white spittle had gathered at the corners of his mouth. He smashed his cigar into the heavy ashtray, looking like a little boy who was telling me a secret.

  And then, he almost whispered, “Get that fucking doctor in here. I want to get up! I have to be up! We’re going to have a fight on our hands, Jack. I need to be up!”

  The medical gear that had been set to silent now sprang to life, sending a high-pitched, buzzing alarm as Don Leone turned a shade of gray and clutched at his chest, now swearing in Italian. A nurse burst in through a door from the other side of the room, closely followed by the doctor, who was also looking much worse for wear.

  “What the hell?” stammered the doctor. “Who the fuck let him smoke cigars in here? He was shooting me an acidic look. “You’ll kill us all, you fucking idiot. The oxygen! You Fool! Nurse, get me the crash cart!”

  The nurse scrambled to the other side of the huge room, wheeling over a stainless steel trolley, after peeling off its plastic cover. The doctor pushed back the table from Don Leone’s bed, and quickly fixed an oxygen mask over his face and checked his chest with his stethoscope.

  “It’s alright, Mr. Leone, just lie back a little. That’s it. Nothing to worry about, just a spike in your blood pressure.” Don Leone wheezed, and swea
t had formed on his brow and he’d continued to lose color. The beeping had also increased, making everything appear so fucking dramatic.

  I breathed out as the nurse switched it all back to silent. The doctor was giving Don Leone another shot. “What are you giving him?” I demanded. “What’s in the syringe!?”

  The doctor looked at me with red-lidded eyes, his face forming a twisted smirk. “Magnesium chloride… and aspirin. We’re trying to keep Mr. Leone’s heart and blood pressure stable. Without cigars!” He’d spat out the words with a venomous tone. Then, reading my look, he deliberately busied himself with his medical equipment, murmuring orders to the nurse.

  That’s okay, doc. You just made my next job a whole lot easier. Jesus! What’ll it get up to today, Slade? Four? Five!? I checked my watch. Plenty of the day was left, no need to rush things. I would need to get Doctor Rollins down here though, and pretty quickly. I had a strange feeling that Doctor Cartwright was about to take his absence.

  Don Leone’s body was weak, but his eyes were strong. His gaze met mine, and he nodded slightly, letting me know that we could pick up where we left off... later on. I brushed past the doctor, making my way to the two main doors of Don Leone’s room.

  “Oh! Mr. Slade, Mr. Slade!?” It was the good doctor, chasing after me, he’d obviously read my mind. I was already halfway out the door when I heard, and ignored him. Then I felt him grabbing my arm.

  I froze on the spot and lifted my eyes to meet his. “I do apologize, Mr. Slade. Back there. Things can be touch and go with cardiac patients. I should have made sure there were no cigars in Mr. Leone’s room. You weren’t to know.”

  I cocked a brow at him, letting the rope out. Take all you need, buddy.

  “I… I’m sorry if I was a little… short with you. Mr. Sla--” I continued to leave. One of the men at the door put himself in front of Cartwright, the other came with me, updating me on the status of the men, and the security of the house so far.