Screwing the Mob (The Mob Lust Series Book 1)

by Kristen Luciani

  I let out a deep breath, fighting the urge to roll my eyes since I know how much it pisses him off. He doesn’t need to be so worried, not that he knows it. “Fine, I’ll wear it.”

  “And don’t take off on Rocco again, okay? He’s doing me a favor by keeping an eye on you.”

  “Okay,” I grumble, gathering all of my books together in a pile on my lap. We’re still about twenty minutes away from school, and I’d like to be done with the me conversation. I’d much prefer the us version.

  “How’d the meeting with your dad go?”

  His fingers grip the steering wheel even tighter and his back stiffens. “It didn’t go as I’d expected.”

  “How so?”

  “Because your father showed up and hijacked the whole thing, shooting off his mouth about shit he doesn’t understand.”

  Okay, this deserves a definite eyeroll. “Nico, I’m sure he was just trying to help. He’s worried about the family just as much as anyone else.”

  “It seems like he’s more worried about his interests than the family’s.”

  “I know he doesn’t always handle these things the right way, but he means well.”

  Nico’s knuckles are white right now. That must mean there was way more said than he’s letting on right now. I know the background. I know what my father did to incite Frank Cappodamo. And I know he’s a big reason why there’s a big-ass target plastered across my back.

  But he’s still my dad. And I hate being in the middle of their never-ending dick slinging contest. There’s never been any love lost between Nico and my dad, and things have gotten more prickly since Grandpa Vito died and Nico rose in rank. Dad doesn’t like taking orders from anyone, much less from his daughter’s boyfriend.

  And he’s not shy about airing his grievances, which is only going to cause more trouble for him.

  “He needs to keep his fucking mouth shut. He says the wrong shit to the wrong people again, and…” Nico’s voice trails off and he pounds on the wheel again. Poor steering wheel. What the hell did it ever do to him?

  I tug on a strand of my hair and twist it around my index finger. This is not the direction I wanted the conversation to take. “You sleep okay last night?” I slam my mouth shut, but it’s too late. The words are already out. And I know damn well he didn’t sleep well at all.

  I’m tired of him shutting me out. The whole biting his tongue so he doesn’t say too much thing has to stop.

  He slows at a red light outside of the Holland Tunnel. “Not bad.”

  I snap my head around to face him. “Really? So you didn’t have another nightmare that made you jump out of the bed again, panting because you can’t even breathe?”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  I point at the traffic light. “It’s green.”

  “I don’t fucking care.”

  I lean back against my seat and glance in the side-view mirror. Luckily, there’s nobody behind us. I guess it’s a random time to be heading into the city. “I know you’re having trouble sleeping. And I also suspect it’s because you carry all of this family bullshit on your shoulders every day. You’re the one making decisions, taking risks, dealing with the mess that comes along with it all.” I turn to him, cringing at the look of defeat in his eyes. His face is twisted into a grimace, but the eyes…they tell me everything I need to know. Everything I’d already suspected. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the light has flickered back to red. “You’re responsible for so much, and I’m worried about you, Nico. I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore.”

  “It’s my job.” His voice is tight, teeth gritted. I get it. I just called him out on something he’s been desperate to hide from me, something nobody else knows. Something that can change people’s perception of him in a hot second.

  Fear. Weakness.

  They’ll either break you or kill you.

  Beep! Beep! Beep!

  “You need to drive.”

  He slowly turns to face the road again and presses the gas, my body jolting forward as the car picks up speed. We speed through the toll plaza and are plunged into the darkened tunnel before he speaks another word.

  “Why can’t you just talk to me, Nico?”

  “Because if you knew half the shit going on in my head, you’d run in the opposite direction.”

  “Do you really think you could get rid of me that easily?” I lace my fingers with his tense ones wrapped around the gear shifter.

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you did take off.”

  “Don’t you understand that I’m in this? That I want to help you? I signed up for this, Nico. I knew what I was getting into, but I didn’t care because I love you.” I sigh. “I always have, and I always will.”

  “This isn’t the kind of life you deserve. To always be watching and worrying and—”

  I squeeze his fingers. “The only one I’m watching and worrying about is you.” I take a deep breath. “I think that you need to talk to someone. If you don’t want to scare me, that’s fine. But there has to be someone who can help you work through all of this. You won’t go after Luca because you’re afraid of the consequences, yet you let the fear of the unknown eat at you.”

  “I can’t talk to anyone, Shaye! Don’t you get it? I can’t trust anyone. I can’t tell anyone the shit that keeps me up at night. Anything I admit makes me vulnerable to attack. I have to handle this on my own.” His voice softens. “Look, I know you think talking shit out is the best way to work things out, but in my line of work, it’s the worst fucking possible thing. Better to keep your mouth shut and your thoughts to yourself before someone uses them against you and shoves an ice pick into your skull.”

  “I just thought—"

  “I’m not one of your case studies, babe.”

  “Don’t you at least trust me?” I try so hard not to let my voice crack, but dammit, it does. I want him to see me as more than just the princess in her ivory tower, waiting for her prince to rescue her. I need him to see me as someone who is just as strong as he is, someone who can protect herself, someone who doesn’t need to rely on others for her security.

  “You’re the one person I do trust.” He pulls over to the side of a dark gray building on West 4th.

  “It doesn’t feel that way.”

  “I tell you more than I should, more than I’ve ever told anyone.” He cups my quivering chin. “I know you don’t believe that, but it’s true. But I can’t share everything with you because I need to protect you. As much as you think you can handle it, you can’t. Fuck, sometimes I don’t think I can handle it all.”

  I nod. “I understand.”

  “I don’t think you do. You’re saying that, but thinking the exact opposite.”

  “Now who’s the case study?”

  The corners of his lips lift. “I’ve never opened up to anyone the way I’ve opened up to you, Shaye. Before you, I’d never let someone in—to my life, to my heart, to my soul. I need to protect you with everything I have. If I don’t tell you something, it’s because I want to keep you safe. And since you have a nasty little habit of taking matters into your own hands…”

  I snicker.

  “…I think that some things are better left unsaid.”

  “It must be genetic.”

  “Must be,” he murmurs, grazing my lips with his. It’s amazing how much more that sensation can awaken my body than a triple shot of espresso.

  Why can’t he be like this all the time? I’m so damn tired of getting little glimpses into the guy I fell in love with. I need him to break out of this impenetrable shell and come back to me.

  His fingers graze the side of my face, and I let my eyes flutter closed. I’m drifting, into him, through him, around him. He consumes my body and mind with little more than a half-hooded gaze, he breathes energy into my soul.

  The most freaking complex man I’ve ever met is the only one who can undo me with the simplest of actions.

  Ironic.

>   “Nico,” I breathe against his mouth.

  “Yeah.” His fingertips drag along the back of my neck, and for a split second, I forget my next words.

  But then they come rushing back to me, the words I’ve been bottling up, the words he needs to hear, the words he’s been avoiding for months, whether or not he even knows it.

  I pull away slightly, my forehead touching his. “It’s time, Nico. You have to take control of this family. You have to protect it. End this war, babe. Don’t wait for them to end it for you.”

  Nico

  I pull into a parking spot outside of the club about half an hour later. Right next to Max’s car.

  End this war, babe. Don’t wait for them to end it for you.

  Sometimes I wonder which war I’m supposed to be fighting.

  I slam my car door shut, pull out my key, and unlock the back door. Duke and some of the other guys are moving crates of liquor to the bar area, prepping for tonight’s ‘anything goes’ crowd.

  “You seen Max?” I ask.

  He nods and points toward the staircase. “He’s downstairs.”

  I don’t bother with my elevator key. I take the stairs two at a time and head into the exclusive labyrinth of kink I’ve single-handedly created. Me. Nobody else.

  I did it by myself—raised all of the money, built all of the buzz, hooked all of the clients. And they’re all hungry for more of what I have to serve. I built the kingdom, and I fucking rule it.

  Nobody is going to stab me in the back in my fucking domain.

  Nobody.

  “Max!” I yell, not bothering to search him out. I want him to come to me. Best friend or not, he really fucked me today, and Christ only knows how many times he’s done it in the past.

  He pops out from one of the private rooms, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Yeah? What’s up?”

  I let out a dry laugh. “What’s up? Well, let’s see. Other than me finding out that you’re fucking mouth can’t be trusted to stay shut for even twelve hours? I don’t know, why don’t you just ambush me again right now and go two for two?”

  Max lets out a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry—”

  “Sorry? Don’t give me that bullshit!” I slam a hand against the wall. “I told you not to say anything to anyone, much less your father. But he’s the first one you ran to with the news about Carlo. Why the fuck would you do that?” I inch closer. “Unless he has something up his sleeve, and he pulled you into his fucking trap. What’d he promise you, Max? Money, power, pussy? All three? Your own fucking empire?” I shout.

  “He didn’t promise me anything!” Max yells. “He has a right to know if his daughter is in danger. He has a right to protect her. You know how he feels about you two being together. And you’re too involved in this shit to think clearly. Luca is a fucking psychopath and if he gets his hands on Shaye…” He shakes his head. “She’s my sister, Nico. My sister! Do you know what Luca would do to her? Do I need to say again that she’s double-fucked because of you and my dad?”

  “You think that doesn’t keep me awake at night? Every fucking night?”

  “Well, let me tell you, if something happens to her, you won’t have to worry about insomnia ever again.” He inches forward, a murderous look in his eye, the same one I’ve seen a million times before. The one I know he’ll act upon without a second thought.

  I clench my fists. “Don’t you fucking threaten me, you asshole. You see all of this? I gave it to you! I made a place for you here! And you have the fucking nerve to challenge me, here of all places?”

  “You’re always so focused on what you’ve given to me. You want me to kiss your fucking ass every time I see you? Would that make you happy? Yes, I fucked up awhile back, and yes, you pulled me out of the shit. You took care of me, and I’ll always be grateful for that. But you don’t control me. I’m not your fucking puppet. You wanna pull strings? Pull Rocco’s. He’s not far enough up your ass already.”

  “Is that what this is about? You’re pissed off about Rocco?”

  Max fists his hair and lets out an incredulous laugh. “You’re a real piece of work. This is about Shaye.”

  “Is it? Or does it have to do with the fact that I brought in Rocco to help run things here?”

  “This is my job, Nico! And he swoops in here like he’s your fucking number two. Do you remember why he was banished in the first place? Because he’s a slimy piece of shit who would rather steal from other people and lie about it than do actual work. He crippled me, Nico. And you let him inside. But you didn’t stop there.”

  “He saved my life, Max. Or don’t you remember that night?”

  “So, because I didn’t shoot myself in the stomach, I’m not worthy? Is that how you gauge loyalty now, Nico? Should I just let you slit my throat? Will that restore your faith in me?” Now he’s pacing and pounding the wall as he stomps around me. And the murderous look is still in force. “You told Rocco everything the other night! And then you made him lie to me. About my own sister. You let him take her back to your place in the city, and you didn’t even have the decency to let me in on it. That crazy motherfucker was lurking, and I could have helped! But you didn’t invite me to the party. Nope, you saved it all for fucking Rocco! But,” he sneers at me, getting right in my face. “You don’t have control over Shaye. And you didn’t tell her to lie to me or my dad.”

  That’s how he found out. I didn’t even think about telling her to keep things quiet that night. My only concern was keeping her alive. Good to know that my girlfriend was responsible for the ambush on me. Gotta love the irony.

  “How do you like that, brother? Shaye is the one who fucked you. Not me. Not my father.” He twists around and walks toward the staircase. “You sit on your high horse accusing me of all sorts of shit before finding out the real story.” He snorts. “Typical. You’re an entitled asshole who got this far because of his bloodline. Not because you have any clue what the hell you’re doing. My father was right. You’ve got no backbone. For someone who’s so concerned about ‘the family’, you’re not doing dick to protect it.”

  I rush toward Max and shove him into the wall. “Fuck you! Don’t you dare talk to me like that! I fucking made you!”

  “Yeah, you made me alright…into a fucking peon! You kept me nice and close and turned me into your bitch!” He shoves me backward, and I stumble, tripping over some BDSM prop laying in the middle of the floor.

  “You sonofabitch!” I launch a fist at his jaw and he blocks it so fast and so hard, the fist almost flies back at my own face. I take another swing and he ducks out of the way before I can make contact. I leap toward him, backing him against another wall with my chest, and he elbows me in the ribs. I clench my teeth and clutch my side. He stands over me, barely out of breath. I’m smart enough to know I’m out of my element here and that there will be no mercy shown if I launch a full-blown attack on him.

  “Don’t mess with me, Nico,” he hisses. “I won’t go easy on you. I will fuck your shit up.”

  I drag myself up to face him. His jaw is tight, eyes narrowed. I’ve seen him pummel plenty of people into the ground over the years. He’s always been the muscle. Today is no different. And he might have punctured a lung with that elbow, fucking asshole that he is.

  “Get the hell out, Max. I don’t want to see you here again.” I rake a hand through my hair and lean back against the wall, my breathing labored.

  “Good, ’cause I’m fucking done with you, asshole. And when the rest of the family figures out the truth, that you’re a big fucking pussy who can’t do shit to keep his people safe, you’re gonna be done, too.”

  Shaye

  “Post-traumatic stress disorder?”

  I nod my head at Professor Gary. “That’s my opinion, based on what I’ve seen. But this…friend…he won’t let anyone help him.”

  “Why do you think he’s so resistant to getting help?”

  I shift in my chair. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking by coming in here. I obviously
can’t tell Professor Gary the truth, that my boyfriend is a next-in-line mob boss who killed a guy in cold-blood and is haunted by the memory of me being abducted and held at gunpoint.

  Yeah, I think I’ll reserve the full story with all the gory deets for now.

  “I think he would see it as an admission of weakness, that he’s not strong enough to battle his demons on his own.”

  “But you think talking to a professional would help.”

  “Well,” I say, twisting my hands in my lap. “It might, if he’s open to it. If not, it’d be a big waste of time.”

  “True, people get out of therapy what they put into it.”

  “But, the thing is…he’s burdened with so much anger and anxiety that I’m afraid if he doesn’t get his mind in order soon, he might cause himself a lot more trouble…at his, um, job. He won’t talk to anyone, so he bottles up a lot. I’m afraid he’s going to snap one day, not thinking clearly about how his actions may impact the others he, um, works with.”

  “Does the root cause of this PTSD have to do with his job?”

  I nod again. “Yes.”

  “And his employees, what kind of relationship do they have with your friend?”

  “Uh, they’re pretty loyal, I’d say. He treats them well. Respects them.” For the most part, unless they make the stupid-ass decision to cross him.

  “He’s a good manager, then?”

  “Yes.” I’ve never seen a more loyal bunch of thugs.

  “Is your friend’s job very high-pressure? Is he acting as a barrier, absorbing the stress from his superiors so that it doesn’t impact his subordinates?”

  “You could say that.” Except in Carlo’s case.

  “And is he suffering from substance abuse? Is there an immediate need to get him help against his wishes? Do you feel like he’s a threat to himself?”

  “Definitely not. He rarely drinks, doesn’t use drugs. I think it’s because he’s afraid it will compromise his judgment, making him vulnerable. And since he already feels that way, he’ll avoid anything that can put him in a more, um, questionable position.”