Screwing the Mob (The Mob Lust Series Book 1)

by Kristen Luciani

  “A little part of me was afraid of that very thing.” She giggles, licking her dry lips. But they’re still so plump and kissable, enough that I can’t resist the urge to lean over her and brush my mouth against hers. “Mmm, that was nice,” she murmurs when I pull away. “I’m glad he didn’t beat you into the ground. I’d be really upset if I couldn’t have your kisses on demand.”

  “That good, huh?” I brush the hair away from her bruised face.

  “Better.” She smiles. “Hey, by the way, Happy New Year.”

  “I think we’re going to have to do a replay of the ball dropping when you’re feeling stronger. I have some ideas, but they require you to be in tip-top condition.”

  “Tell me more,” she whispers, her fingers dancing up and down my arm.

  “Let’s just say we’re going to make that last ten seconds last and last and last.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Me either.”

  “Nico…”

  “Yeah, baby? What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know, I guess I’m just wondering what comes next for us. Is this feud finally going to be over? Are our dads going to actually resolve this now?”

  I take a deep breath. If Tony knows what’s good for him, he’ll figure out how to bury his issues once and for all. Any sign of dissention from the family won’t bode well for the Orianis, and I can only do so much damage control if Tony decides to air his grievances to others outside of the family.

  For his sake, and the sake of his family, I hope he thinks long and hard before shooting off his big mouth to the wrong people. They won’t see him as an ally. They’ll see him as the weak link of our family, and the weak link is always the first to break.

  Nobody wants to take on a liability like Tony, but they’ll use him to infiltrate our organization. And that would cripple us, causing complete anarchy within the ranks.

  I know what comes next, and now is the time to tighten our security, not plug leaky holes.

  “I think there’s a good chance of that,” I lie. Dad may get Tony’s ear for a while, but it won’t be enough, not when Tony has his own ideas about how the family needs to be run. The problem is that they’re shitty ideas, which is how he got us into this situation with Cappodamo in the first place. He’s not a leader or a visionary. He’s always been the muscle. But he fights it because he knows muscle doesn’t equate to power and respect.

  He wants it all, but in the face of opposition, he acts rashly and doesn’t think about longer-term consequences.

  Very bad for business.

  “I’m transferring.”

  My brow furrows. “You’re what?”

  “Transferring. Up here. I’ll start applying for next fall.”

  “No way.” I shake my head. “You love school. Besides, I like having you far away from this world. The farther away you are, the safer you are.”

  “Too bad. I can’t be that far anymore, Nico. I’d be freaking out constantly, wondering where you are, if anyone attacks the club, if anyone tries to—"

  I place a finger over her lips. “Hey, you don’t ever have to worry about me. I’ll be fine. The club will be fine. I have plenty of guys who have a vested interest in keeping me alive.”

  Tears gather in the corners of her eyes. “But these people…they’re dangerous. And they’ll be back. I heard my dad before. I can’t live without you, Nico. I just can’t. Even when I hated you, I couldn’t. And now?”

  “Wait, when did you hate me?”

  A snort of laughter escapes her mouth and a single tear rolls down her cheek. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

  I grin. “It made you smile, though.”

  “It won’t erase the panic, Nico.” Her smile fades, and fear is etched into her expression.

  “You have to trust me. Do you really think I’m going to let anyone get to me? I have too much at stake now.” I tap her nose with my index finger. “And yes, that means you.”

  “I just love you so much. I can’t bear the thought—"

  “Then don’t.” My forehead touches hers, the warmth of her breath tickling my skin. I breathe in the sweet scent of her body lotion. It smells like vanilla frosting. And God, do I want to coat every inch of her body in frosting and lick it off before diving deep inside of her, over and over again.

  I should be thinking about so many other things right now — strategizing, plotting, conspiring.

  But I choose sex and frosting because it’s my only chance for a temporary escape from my reality.

  And also because it can’t kill me.

  Unless, of course, it’s manufactured in a facility that may contain peanuts.

  Nico

  I dig my toes into the cold, wet sand and stare out at the horizon. Crashing waves break over the shore of South Beach in Miami, the sound of which drowns out the tirade of thoughts popping around in my brain like firecrackers on the Fourth of July.

  I came down here because I needed a reprieve.

  And Shaye.

  Not in that order.

  I couldn’t wait another week for her to get home. Even though she’s been buried in books preparing for finals, she’s still next to me, under me, on top of me, and in any other position I can convince her to try.

  I fucking love that girl. And I love it even more than she’s coming home to Jersey and starting at one of the local universities next semester to be close to me. I don’t know how I got so lucky, and I let her know it every chance I get.

  Even though I’ve seen her every other weekend over this semester, it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough, not until I wake up to her naked body plastered against mine every morning.

  This long-distance shit has been pure fucking torture.

  I trudge back toward our lounge chairs and collapse onto mine. She rolls over with a sleepy smile for me. “How was your swim?”

  “It would have been better if you were in there with me. Naked.”

  “Is sex all you think about?”

  “Sex keeps me sane.”

  “Really.” She sits up and pulls a textbook onto her lap. “Well, let’s see what this author thinks about a dependency on sex in the name of preserving sanity.”

  “So, you’re saying I’m a head case or something?”

  “Or something.” She grins. “Maybe you could be a case study subject for me.”

  “That would include a lot of analysis and research, right? Different positions, times of day, all kinds of things that might impact my level of sanity? I like the sound of that. Keep talking.”

  “Well,” she murmurs, sliding onto my lounge chair. “I think it will definitely take a lot of research. And I’ll have to develop some theories we’ll have to test out.” She traces a fingertip down my abdomen, making my already half-hard cock strain against my board shorts.

  “I think we should start brainstorming those theories right now.”

  She dips her head, her lips massaging my neck and the area behind my ear that she knows drives me crazier than a shithouse rat.

  I press my fingers into her slim waist, tangling them in the strings holding her bathing suit bottom together. And she doesn’t stop me because I know she wants it as badly as I do. “Okay, swim time.”

  “Oh, yes,” she whispers, a sexy smile curling her lips upward. She straddles me, rising slowly, dragging her pussy over my cock. She runs her hands down her torso, settling them on her waist. She juts out one of her hips. “Are you ready?”

  “Aren’t I always?” I swing my legs over the side of the chair.

  “Doesn’t look like you are right now.” She giggles.

  “That’s your fault.”

  “I hear that a lot from you.”

  “Add it to the case study.” I smirk. A blaring sound comes from my duffel bag. I fumble around in one of the pockets and pull out my phone. “Yeah.”

  “Nico, it’s me.”

  “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”

  “Take a walk.”

  “Yep.” I look up
at Shaye and wink. “You need to start brainstorming. I need a minute, okay?”

  She nods, but I can see the concern in her gaze. She’s too observant for her own good. She knows when my tone of voice changes, when I take a business call versus a personal one. She can read me, and I hate it.

  Mainly because of the lies I have to tell to keep her happy and comforted.

  I wonder if she knows about those…

  I head up the beach where there are no sunbathers at this moment. Good for me, considering the fact that it looks like I’ve got a piece of driftwood in my shorts. “Talk to me.”

  “He’s back, son.”

  I rake a hand through my hair. “I’m actually surprised he didn’t show up sooner.”

  “Had to finish his overseas tour. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. Have you talked to Max?”

  “Not yet. I have him working on some deals with Viktor. I didn’t want to distract him with this until we knew more.”

  “It’s time to tell him. We need to start making a plan.”

  “And Tony? Is he going to come through for us this time?”

  “He’ll do it. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “You give him too much credit.” I peek over my shoulder to witness Shaye stretching her arms overhead, her tits stretching against the scraps of fabric covering them.

  Focus, focus…

  “You need to put some degree of trust in people, Nico. And always have them under watch, just in case.”

  “We can’t take any chances. This guy wants revenge for his dad.”

  “You need to get back home. Even with your security detail down there, it’s not safe. For either of you.”

  I sigh and look around. Beachgoers stroll the boardwalk in the distance. Crowds of sunbathers cover the stretch of beach in front of me. There are plenty of places to lurk, plenty of opportunities to pounce. “I know. Give me a few days.”

  “Be careful. I love you, son.”

  “I love you, too, Dad.” I end the call and slap the phone against my leg. Sonofabitch. I knew this would happen. It’s been a long time coming, and it’s time to clue in my closest confidantes, including Max and Rocco, the ones I myself have been watching because it’s just how the game is played.

  I learned very early on that there are certain things guaranteed in this life.

  One: money always talks. Bullshit rarely walks.

  Two: respect always comes with a hefty price tag.

  And three: someone always wants you dead.

  Four Months Later…

  Luca

  I walk down the dark alleyway in the armpit of lower Manhattan, my hooded head dipped low to hide the deep gashes around my left eye and the purplish-blue bruises littering my jaw. My hands are stuck deep into the pockets of my jeans to hide the bandages covering my bloody knuckles. I look up for a split second at the end of the narrow pathway to squint at the street sign hanging above. The place I’m headed should be ahead on the right. Half a block up, I stop in front of a dented, black metal door. I pull the handle and it creaks open. The place is small and dingy. Cigarette smoke fills my lungs, but I fight the urge to cough.

  Never show any hint of weakness.

  It’s how I made it to the top ranks of the MMA. Until my titles were stripped away and my career went to complete shit, that is. I clench my fists and take another deep breath.

  Nobody looks up when I enter the bar. Groups of men are huddled together at small tables, tossing back shots. I don’t stop to exchange greetings with anyone, and I don’t make eye contact. I just keep walking toward the back room, toward my destination, not giving anyone a chance to recognize me.

  It’s been a long time…fucking long enough, as far as Matteo Fabrizzi is concerned.

  I push open the door to find my father’s second-in-command waiting for me at a table for two. The only table.

  How quaint.

  I unzip my black jacket and sink into a chair across from him. My eyes are glued to his small beady ones, but he doesn’t flinch. He never does. He is always good under pressure. It’s one of the reasons why Dad picked him.

  There’s another reason, too, which is why I’m sitting across from him in this shithole bar. He didn’t tell me as much when he called, but I know what’s coming.

  I’ve always known. I’ve just chosen to ignore it. But tonight, I’m ready to listen.

  Ready to act. Ready to take back what’s rightfully mine.

  “It’s over, Luca.”

  I smirk. “It sure as fuck is. You should have seen the other guy.”

  “You’ve been dicking around with these half-assed, back alley fights for long enough. It’s time for you to get your shit together and take your place in this family. We need you. How many years do you have left?” Matteo leans closer. “Your lack of involvement makes the family look weak. It makes us vulnerable. Your dad worked his fucking ass off to make this organization as strong as possible. And now…”

  The rest of Matteo’s bullshit ‘rally the team’ speech is lost on me.

  Your dad.

  Your dad is dead.

  Your dad was killed.

  Killed ten months ago by the one person who destroyed my life…who took everything from me.

  I was in long before I even set foot into this hellhole.

  I hold up a hand and stop Matteo mid-plea. “Enough. You want me? You’ve got me.”

  Nico

  “He’s coming. He’s coming!”

  “Be prepared. Be ready. Be careful.

  “You have a lot of responsibilities, Nico.”

  Bits of conversations ricochet off the walls of my mind, eating away at my confidence to uncover an all-consuming fear that lurks inside me like a predator ready to strike.

  Because he’s out there. I know it, Dad knows it, the guys know it.

  And most of all…he knows it.

  Fear makes you weak.

  Weakness gets you killed.

  I slide out of the passenger seat of my Audi R8, my feet landing on the concrete of my driveway. I slam the door shut and walk the few feet to the front door. Shaye is waiting for me on the other side, hopefully wearing nothing but the apron she uses when she cooks dinner. My stomach growls, but I’m not hungry. Not for food, anyway.

  I slide my key into the lock and grasp the brass door knob, ready to turn, ready to put this day behind me. Each day is just like the last…work, work, work, wonder…work some more…wonder some more. It’s the wondering part that has my brain twisted. I never wonder. I always know.

  But this time, I’m a sitting duck, waiting for the hunter.

  I don’t fucking like it one bit, and the loss of control is crippling. And I don’t know how much longer I can bury this shit and hang on to my last shred of sanity. Sometimes I think these mind fucks are worse than someone putting a bullet in my brain.

  I push open the door, but the house is dark. Even the kitchen. One light is on. Upstairs, in my bedroom. Maybe she decided to just order pizza. Later. Much later by the time I’m finished with her. Works for me. The sooner I can get Shaye naked, the sooner I can dive inside of her and escape all of this other bullshit. Then, it’ll just be us.

  The way I wanted it to be.

  The way I know it never can be.

  I toss my keys into a bowl on the hall table, nearly missing it because I can’t really see it. I kick off my shoes and take the stairs two at a time. Seconds pass, and I’m no closer to the top. The staircase looms above me. The faster I jog upward, the faster the steps seem to regenerate.

  What the fuck is happening?

  I place my hand on the railing, but I don’t feel the smooth wood grain along my palm. Instead, it’s submerged into a sticky, gel-like-liquid…like quicksand. I yank and pull, but it’s useless. My hand is stuck.

  I use my other hand as leverage and slap it against the wall. But it slices through the sheet rock, which morphs into the same type of gummy substance. I blink hard at the stairs that seem to lead into the heavens, sta
irs I can’t even climb because I’m literally stuck to the wall now. My heart thumps against my ribcage, blood rushing between my ears.

  I can’t move. But maybe I can scream. If Shaye is upstairs, she’ll hear me and we’ll figure this out together. “Shaye!” My mind hears the scream, but my mouth is still closed tight. I try to force my lips apart, but they’re also stuck. Just like my body.

  “Nico!”

  My ears perk up, her voice distracting me from my current situation. She’s calling me! She is here! I try again. “Shaye!”

  Nothing. Nothing but the shrieks that follow my name. And then…

  “Help me, Nico!”

  A loud crash follows, along with a sinister laugh.

  I know that laugh. I’ve never heard it before, but somehow I know it.

  I yank my body left and right, trying to free my hands. Nothing.

  “Help! Please!”

  Bile rises in my throat. I need to break free. Now. All the preparation, all of the planning…none of it matters. This shit is happening now, and I finally need to reclaim my life. I tug and pull some more as her screams get louder and more desperate. I have to get upstairs now. I can’t see through walls, but my gut tells me the only thing that I need to know…Shaye is in danger. And even though I’ve known what’s coming for a long time, I still don’t have a solid plan for how I can protect her.

  It may be too late…

  Fuck, no! Strange sounds emerge from deep within my throat, though my mouth is still stretched into a tight line. I can only hear clanging cymbals and heavy drum beats. Noise. Way too much noise. I won’t be able to hear if…

  My pulse throbs harder and harder with each passing second until the stairs laid out in front of me morph into a darkened road. There is ice on the ground and silence in the cold, gusty night air. I’m not wearing a coat, I’m in a t-shirt and jeans. But somehow, the frigid temperatures don’t phase me one bit. My eyes dart left and right, behind trees, around parked cars. Not a soul appears in front of me, but I’m not alone.

  I can feel it. I can feel him.

  “Nico!”

  Shaye’s screech pierces the silence again, reminding me of my mission, and I run toward it, my pace quickening, my heart thudding. Seems like I’m running for miles, but the voice grows fainter until I can no longer hear it. Night brightens into day, and hot rays of sunshine stream over the crashing waves on South Beach. Hordes of sunbathers litter the beach, and I race around them, searching, straining to hear her voice, praying I haven’t lost her.