Screwing the Mob (The Mob Lust Series Book 1)

by Kristen Luciani

  She pulls away, panic settling over her delicate features. “Oh my God,” she murmurs, jumping backward. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she relaxes her shoulders and lets out a deep breath. “Nico, we could have been so screwed if one of our family members walked in right then.”

  “In another time and place, we definitely will be.” I wink and twist onto my side. I have to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from screaming, it hurts that fucking bad. Christ, I need some more of whatever they fed me in the back of that ambulance to dull the pain I’m in now.

  She puts her hands on her hips. “So, I’m just supposed to fall under your spell now? Let you call all the shots? Wait around until you get tired of the forbidden?”

  I lace my fingers with hers. “No way. You’ve got it all wrong, Shaye. I’m the one caught in your net. And trust me, there’s nothing tiring about it.”

  With a roll of her eyes, she squeezes my hand. “I’m going back to school in a few weeks. Max is your best friend. My father will kill me, and then you—”

  “Hey, I’m not saying it’ll be easy. And I wouldn’t advise saying anything to anyone about it. But, Shaye…I’ve waited too long to taste you, and now I’m fucking addicted. You’re just gonna kick me to the curb and fly back to Miami?”

  “I have to go back.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t mean this has to end. Give us a shot.” I snicker. “No pun intended.”

  A giggle escapes her lips. “It’s not funny.”

  “Agreed. So let’s keep it quiet. I’d really like to be able to fuck you again, but I can’t do that if they chop off my dick.”

  Her expression sobers. “Do you really think this can work? Are we kidding ourselves? There’s nothing normal about the way we live, Nico. Why should this be an exception?”

  “Because it’s us. It can be whatever we want it to be.”

  She looks at me, her light eyes filled with hope, her face shadowed with doubt.

  “Trust me, Shaye. You just have to want it bad enough.”

  She lets out an unsteady breath and nods, her pink-tipped blonde curls bouncing over her shoulders. “I do. I always have.”

  “I’ll figure it out. It won’t be easy, but it’ll be worth it.”

  A knock at the side of the wall startles her and she releases my hand, jumping back against a chair. The curtain opens, and my dad appears, his faced lined with worry. He manages a smile for Shaye. “Thank you so much for letting us know what happened and for getting Nico here. We’re so grateful to you and Max.”

  She nods. “Of course. I’m just going to wait outside.” Her eyes float back to mine. “I’ll come and say goodbye before we leave.”

  “Okay.” I watch as she pulls the curtain aside and tosses a quick glance over her shoulder. “Thanks.”

  Dad watches her leave, and when he turns back to me, his eyes are heavy, laden with worry and fear. “Nico, the police said it was a hit-and-run. Did you see anything suspicious about the car that hit you?”

  “No, nothing. The snow was coming down really hard. I could barely see. The car, it was a big, black SUV. But nobody inside made themselves known.” I pause. “Dad, there was a—”

  “I know all about it, son. The dinner in Atlantic City.”

  “What the hell is going on? Does this have to do with what you told me? Is Cappodamo involved?”

  He nods, pressing his fingertips to his temples. “Nobody is safe, Nico. This was a warning, and it could have been a lot worse.”

  “What are you going to do? What if somebody tries to come after Mom or Lily?” The blood boils in my veins at the thought that one of those asshole thugs would even consider laying a finger on either of them. If it happened, I would bury the motherfucker that dared touch them.

  “I don’t know. But what I do know is that you need to keep a low profile. Meet with Rocco, focus on your business, and let me try to figure this out. I’m waiting for some more information, and once I get it I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay, Dad. But you know this will get worse once word gets out that Rocco and I are working together. Tony will flip the fuck out if he knows we’re trying to expand our crew without including them. And Max…I don’t think I need to tell you what he’ll do.”

  My dad’s eyes narrow. “Be careful. I’ve already told you too much, enough to put you in severe danger. Keep your eyes open. Any situation you wander into is an opportunity for them to send another message.”

  “Dad, I think they’ve made it pretty clear that they’ll find me, one way or another.”

  “Just do what I say, Nico.” His expression implores me to agree, but he’s hiding something. I can always tell when he is trying to withhold information. He has one tell — he always cracks his thumb and forefinger. I never see him do it any other time except when he’s trying to avoid giving an explanation about something. This is one of those times. He knows something, but he’s not saying. That means it’s big. And bad.

  “I promise, Dad. I’ll lay low. Whatever you need me to do.”

  Except I won’t…because I can’t.

  Shaye

  I toss and turn all night after leaving Nico at the hospital, my only comfort coming from the fluffy down comforter blanketing my body. Sunlight streams through a crack in the drawn curtains and I moan, throwing the cover over my head. I have no idea if he was released, if he’s home, if he had any internal injuries…nothing. Max didn’t say a word about it on the way home, and I didn’t dare to ask. I already aroused enough suspicion with my behavior last night. And Max has been acting odd, stranger than usual, especially where Nico is concerned. I don’t need to give him any reason to suspect there is anything between us other than friendship. I’ve seen what Max can do with a tire iron.

  How doped up must Nico have been last night to say such insane things to me? As if we could get away with sneaking around. As if we could outright defy our families and have a normal relationship despite who we are and who are fathers are.

  It’s impossible, but for a few minutes it was nice to believe it could be true.

  And then Max’s face pops into my mind, the crazed look in his eye sending shivers down my spine. I adore my brother, but he’s not the most stable person on two legs. He tries to keep his temper from me, but I have friends…friends who have witnessed things…friends who have filmed things…and said things that have made my stomach turn.

  But we don’t talk about any of it. He and my dad try to shield me from their business dealings, but I don’t exactly live under a rock. I know why they sent me down to Miami. And after that night with Nico, I was more than happy to flee New Jersey.

  My phone pings with a text, and I fling the comforter off of me and lunge for it. My heart is caught in my throat for the millisecond that it takes me to enter my passcode. But the text isn’t from Nico. It’s from Sloane.

  I let out a sigh and fall back against the pillows to read the message.

  Heading to the gym. Get your ass up and come meet me.

  I roll my eyes and reply.

  No shot in hell. How about coffee instead?

  It takes a second for Sloane to reply, but I know how easily she can be talked out of a workout. Bitch has a ridiculously fast metabolism anyway. She doesn’t need to go to the gym this morning. Not when I desperately need my best friend to talk some sense into me before I make a phone call that will cause me a hell of a lot more trouble.

  Okay. Coffee first, workout after.

  I snicker and reply with my concurrence. Whatever pacifies her. The truth is, I need her help with screwing my head on straight again.

  Mafia princes don’t typically take to a life of monogamy, and judging by Nico’s past selections, I can’t believe he’ll ever settle down. He’ll only settle, and only for a little while.

  I roll out of my warm bed and pull on a pair of Lululemon leggings and a matching tank top. I pile my hair on top of my head and head into the bathroom to brush my teeth and dot some concealer under my eyes since I look
like Night of the Living Dead right now.

  A few minutes later, I run down the stairs with my sneakers in hand. I furrow my brow and walk toward my father’s office. The door is closed, but I can hear elevated voices floating into the expansive foyer. High ceilings mean sound carries much farther. I don’t even need to press my ear against the door to catch bits of what’s being said by my dad.

  “Grandfather…respect…Shaye…accident…keep away…”

  My eyes widen. Grandfather? Me? What the hell are they talking about?

  Max’s voice rises, and I can hear everything clearly now although it makes my skin crawl.

  “I told you I’ll handle him my way!”

  I creep closer to the door, my throat tight.

  “Max, you need to get your head out of your ass. Do not let your personal feelings about him fuck up your work.”

  “But, Dad, I need something of my own. I can’t be under Nico forever, not when—”

  “You’ve always been so goddamned impatient! Give it time. Build back your reputation and then I can bring you in. Right now, you’re too much of a loose cannon. Learn the ropes and stay out of trouble. The time will come.”

  Max snorts. “I don’t need time. I need fucking money!”

  “You need a hell of a lot more than that.”

  I can almost see my father’s large frame hovering over Max until he finally pulls away and concedes, which happens pretty often.

  “He’s back, and you need to deal with it, not get yourself ousted from the family.”

  “I can’t believe you’re telling me I need to play nice with that motherfucker after what he pulled.”

  I hear a hand slam down on a hard surface. More than likely, my father’s hand. “Dammit, Max! You will do exactly what I say, exactly how I say it, or I’ll put you on a fucking plane to Sicily!”

  “Don’t you understand that nobody will take me seriously unless I let them know who they’re dealing with? They’ll never come to me with business opportunities if I don’t show them what I can offer.”

  “And don’t you understand that you’ll be the first one with a bullet in your skull if you’re not careful? You have to pick the right allies, not continue racking up enemies. You did enough damage with the Luccheses. Your mother…” My dad sighs and I can almost see him scrubbing a hand down his face as he tries to reason with Max, a near impossible feat. “Think of your mother, Maximo. Stick with Nico. He’ll take care of you.”

  Oh fuck. He’s using Max’s birth name. He must be hella frustrated.

  “Fine, Dad. Just remember what happened when you and your best friend used to tag team together. How’d that turn out for you?” I hear a chair scrape against the polished hardwood floor, and I dart into the kitchen without waiting to hear my dad’s response, busying myself with a glass of orange juice so they don’t suspect that I’ve heard everything I just did. That last scathing comment was a low blow from Max, and I’m sure it hit my dad hard.

  “Sweetie! Are you okay?”

  I jump, nearly choking on my sip of the pulpy Tropicana I love so much. “Mom! When did you guys get home? I didn’t hear the door.”

  “We got home about an hour ago.” My mother comes around the island and puts her hands on my shoulders. The scent of her favorite perfume wafts around my head. “I was so upset to hear what happened last night to Nico. The roads are so dangerous. He’s lucky it wasn’t more serious. If he’d have been going faster, that accident could have been a lot worse.”

  Accident. Interesting word choice. Something about that whole situation didn’t sit well with me. A hit and run. Son of Joe Salesi. Not a word spoken by Max after we left the hospital. His unwillingness to work with Nico, his desire to break away and create his own opportunities, even though nobody wants to work with him because he’s got such a short fuse. And then that weird mention of a dinner, one that Nico had no clue about. Max must have wanted to fuck with his head, maybe to make himself feel more empowered. These guys feed on power and control and love to exert it whenever possible. It’s a never-ending game of who’s got the longest dick.

  And based on the heated conversation between my dad and Max a minute ago, it appears that the “accident” might not have been such an accident after all.

  A tightness assaults my chest when I allow the next thought to cross my mind. But no…that would be insane. Max wouldn’t do something like that…would he? To clear his path, so to speak?

  The office door opens, and Max walks out, followed by my father. His dark eyes are fixed on mine and a tiny shiver slithers down my spine. Oh, God, yes, he would. In a freaking heartbeat. Because Max wants what Max wants, what everyone else wants be damned.

  I flash a wide smile at my father and rush into his waiting arms. “Morning, Daddy.”

  He drops a kiss on top of my head. “Morning, sunshine. Headed to the gym?”

  “Something like that.” I chuckle and pull away to finish my juice. “How was dinner last night?” It’s an innocent question, but I can see my dad’s spine stiffen while he exchanges a look with Max.

  “It was good. We had a really nice time.”

  “I’d forgotten about it until Max mentioned it to Nico last night when we ran into him at Starbucks.” This is me playing a very stupid game. I want my dad to know Max was messing with Nico last night for some reason. Despite the falling out Dad had with Joe Salesi, he’s never treated Nico with anything but respect, and Max hates that Dad values his even temper and good business sense. Truth be told, if Max is left to his own devices, he’ll end up face-down in a bloody ditch somewhere. He needs an alliance with Nico, and Dad knows that, even if Max resists.

  His jaw sets and he narrows his eyes at Max before returning a relaxed gaze to me. “Yes, Mom and I were invited by a few people who wanted to show us around their new hotel. I’d been involved in the construction, and they wanted to host us for their soft opening. It was only a small group of investors.”

  “Oh, that’s cool.” I nod, not daring to look at my brother, even though I could see smoke billowing out of his ears in my periphery. So it really wasn’t anything noteworthy after all. Mom and Dad get invited to those dinners all the time. I wonder if Max knew the real reason behind the invite and still felt the need to mess with Nico. Another power play? “Was it really nice or totally gaudy and overdone?”

  “The latter.” My mom laughs into her coffee mug. “But you know we told them how magnificent it was.”

  “Of course.” I giggle.

  “I’m going to shoot some hoops,” Max grumbles, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and stomping toward the front door.

  “What’s his problem?” I ask my dad.

  Dad walks around the island and wraps his arms around my mother’s waist, leaning his chin on her shoulder. “You know your brother. He gets himself worked up about nonsense, never sees the big picture.”

  Yep, that’s Max. To a T. And it’s why he keeps fighting the small bullshit battles instead of concentrating on the future. It’s how he’s always been. Always tactical, never strategic. I think that’s why Dad wants to keep him linked to Nico. He knows it’s Max’s only shot at actually having a future bigger than being someone’s hired gun.

  “He’s wound up pretty tight these days. I worry about him.”

  Mom nods. “We all do, sweetie. I feel like Vito’s death hit him pretty hard. But it’s good you’re home for a while. He really misses you, so maybe having you around will calm him down.”

  I drain the remaining juice from my glass and put it into the sink. My chest tightens at the mention of Nico’s grandfather. He was beloved by everyone, and he’d always been so thoughtful and patient and kind to me and Max throughout our lives. It was hard to believe he’d been the boss of one of the biggest crime families in the tri-state area for so many years. “I’ll do my best to get him out of his funk.” I smile and give a little wave. “Later!”

  “Have a great day, honey. And be careful, it’s still very icy.”


  “I will, Mom. Love you guys!”

  “Love you, too,” my parents respond in unison. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see them hugging and smiling at each other, murmuring things I have no desire to know anything about. But it’s nice to see how solid they are as a couple. At least, I hope they’re that solid. In our type of family, things are never what they seem.

  Nico

  I drag my ass out of bed, wincing as I throw my legs over the side. The pain is fucking crippling, but I refuse to fill the prescription they gave me. In my line of work, you need to be aware of everything around you at all times. The last thing I need is to be operating in some kind of a hazy fog today of all days.

  I squint at the clock on my nightstand and let out a groan. It’s already ten o’clock. By the time I got out of the hospital, it was around two in the morning. Dad dropped me off and offered to stay here, but I sent him home. It’s more important that he’s with Mom and Lily. I can take care of myself. I have my trusty bat along with an assortment of handguns. You know, just in case. Never can tell when you’ll need one, not that I’ve used any of them to do harm to an actual person. I’ve been trained for years, but never had a reason to plug anyone.

  Until now. There are people who don’t think I deserve my role in this family, that I got it by default because of my father and grandfather. I didn’t earn this position, even though I earned plenty of money for all of the naysayers rooting against me.

  They aren’t concerned with the money. They want to see the blood on my hands. That’s what would qualify me for my role as an underboss in their eyes. Being a legacy doesn’t hold much water, and I know it’s only a matter of time before I need to prove myself to these goons.

  I rub my aching temples. Jesus, I’ve never had a hangover that gave me a headache like this. But deep down I know it’s stress more than anything else. Stress, and whatever the fuck shit I spouted to Shaye last night in the hospital. They doped me up pretty good from what the nurses told me, but I know exactly what came out of my mouth, and I meant every word. But I don’t know if I was coherent enough that Shaye understood what I was saying.