by Hamel, B. B.
“To Cesare,” Hector shouted. The men echoed him and drank.
I stood surveying them another moment before I spoke again.
“We are a family,” I said softly. “I don’t use that word lightly. The Valentino family has been my home, and you are all my brothers. I have bled for you all and killed for you all, and now I come to ask for your support as the Don of this family. We are not a fucking democracy, but we do vote on this position. If you’re in favor of me taking over, stand now.”
Gian was the first to his feet. I caught Mags’s eye and she frowned at me slightly chewing on her lip. Matteo was up next, though he didn’t count, followed by Lorenzo, and Hector, and more Capos, until they were all on their feet.
Roy Paganini was the last to stand. He saluted to with his glass. “To the new Don,” he shouted.
The men broke out in cheers. They roared and drank and laughed, and I took a moment to bask in it, only one moment, because though this was a good thing, this was a high point in my life, I knew that it meant only more work was ahead, only more danger.
“Let’s drink,” I said. “Get more girls out here. Everything’s on the house.” I handed my mic back to the DJ and the music came back on, and several girls came out from the back. Their big fake tits swayed and the boys laughed and shouted as they threw money.
I shook hands on my way back to the table. Roy lingered too long, leaning forward to say, “Don’t disappoint.” I shot him a smile and pushed past until I sat back down in my chair next to Maggie.
Gian grinned at me. “It’s official now, Don Valentino,” he said. “How’s it feel?”
“Like shit,” I said. “I’m the Don, and now the real work begins.”
He laughed and got up to have another drink. Mags came closer, leaning in to speak over the music. I felt a slight thrill at her lips so close.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “This went well, right?”
“I’m fine,” I said, then stood up. “I need air. Come on.”
She hesitated, but followed. I left, stumbling out into the night. I hurried down the block away from the gaze of the bouncers and around the corner before I leaned up against the front of a row home and leaned my head back against the brick.
Maggie stood next to me, staring with uncertainty.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Have you ever worked your whole life for something, and then gotten it, only to realize that what you wanted means you shackled yourself to a future that might be more difficult than you imagined?” I asked.
She laughed once. “No,” she said. “I’ve never gotten something that I want in my whole life.”
I stared at her, pretty Mags. I didn’t know why the girl went through so much shit. I reached out and grabbed her and tugged her against me. She sucked in a breath and pushed away. “Stop it,” she said.
I let her go and she stood at the curb, arms over her chest, not looking at me.
“You don’t have to hate me, you know,” I said.
“I don’t,” she said. “Not you, anyway.”
“Who do you hate then?”
“My father,” she said, still staring down at the curb. “My uncle. The rest of your crew.”
“So what are you going to do for the next five years?” I ask. “Hide out in that house?”
“Maybe,” she said. “I don’t know. It’s a nice house.”
“True,” I said without smiling. “You probably could sit around and feel miserable if you wanted, but I’m not sure that’s the kind of person you are.”
“I’m not sure you know me at all,” she said, looking up and meeting my eyes.
I smirked and pushed off the wall. “You’ve had it hard,” I said. “But you know what? We’ve all had it hard.”
“Did you father ever sell you?” she asked, eyes narrowed, tone harsh.
“No,” I said. “But he beat me so badly that I couldn’t leave the house for a week or else people would see the black eyes and the bruises. His belt buckle left a nice, thick scar on the side of my head. I’ll show it to you sometime.”
She glared back at me. “So your daddy hit you. I’m sorry about that, but I can’t imagine you think you had it worse than me.”
“I’m only saying that nobody’s life is easy,” I said. “You’re not unique in your misery, Mags.”
“I feel so bad for the big, strong Mafia Don,” she said, dripping sarcasm as I approached her. She faced me, eyes blazing. “You haven’t been through half of what I’ve been through.”
I stopped inches in front of her and leaned down. She looked up, chin tilted in my direction, face set and defiant. “You have no clue, little Mags,” I whispered. “My life’s been pain and drugs and blood. I’m sorry your daddy was mean. But you shouldn’t make comparisons.”
“Show me,” she said. “If you’ve had it so hard, show me.”
“All right then,” I said, and grabbed her by the hair—and kissed her.
She sucked in a breath, kissing me back for one moment, before shoving me away. I released her, smirking, and she glared holy hell. “Don’t be an asshole,” she said. “God, you can’t help it, can you?”
“No, I really can’t,” I said. “You’re too easy to rile up, and fucking hell, are you sexy when you’re pissed.”
“What a cliché,” she said, rolling her eyes. “God, you’re so typical.” She started to walk away.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Away,” she said. “I don’t know. Somewhere away from you.”
I caught her arm. “Stop,” I said.
She tried to pull away, but I held her tight. Her jaw clenched and fire raged in her eyes. “Let me go,” he hissed.
I squeezed harder. “How many times do I have to say this? You’re in danger every time you walk away from me,” I said. “We’re at war, Mags, and I’m officially the Don now. You’re my wife. That puts a target on you.”
“Let me go,” she said again.
“Promise you won’t run.”
“No.”
We stared at each other. I liked the spirit, the rage, but fuck, she was going to get herself killed. I wanted to keep her from danger but she insisted on running headlong into it.
I moved closer to her and put my hand on her hip. She batted it away, glaring at me, and I put it back.
“Dean,” she said.
I pulled her tight against me. “Mags,” I said. “Promise you won’t run.”
“Asshole,” she hissed as I kissed her neck. She struggled, but I held her tight. “What the fuck are you doing?”
She was delicious. The way she struggled against me, the way she fought, the smooth skin on her throat and neck, those lips, god, I bet she’d bite me hard if I tried to kiss her. I wanted to find out. I moved my tongue and lips up along her jaw toward her ear.
“Promise you won’t run,” I whispered, cupping her ass tight.
“Fine,” she spit. “Let me go, bastard.”
I released her. She stepped back, shaking with rage. Her eyes flared up at me and I smiled, my blood racing. I wanted her back against me, wanted to feel her ass in my hands, wanted to cup her breasts and lick her nipples and make her back arch as my fingers caressed the small bones of her back, touching each one like a staircase to the base of her skull.
“Come on,” I said. “I’ll take you home.”
“Don’t you have a party to attend?” she asked. “Or are you just going to harass me all night?”
“They’ll be fine without me,” I said. “Now come on. I want to make sure you get home safe.”
She hesitated, but when I started to walk to the car, she followed. Her skin was bright pink and she breathed fast, her breasts rising and falling with each suck of air, and I didn’t know if she was flustered with anger or lust or both.
God, I think it was both.
We didn’t talk on the way home. We didn’t need to. She sat there seething, and I thought of her lips and body against mine, and the taste of h
er pussy on my tongue, her wedding dress thrown back, her body exposed and aching for me.
8
Mags
I worked very hard to avoid Dean for the next few days. Fortunately, it was easy—after they backed him as the Don, he was suddenly much busier.
Bea was a constant, comforting presence. She cooked meals when the chef wasn’t working and I’d sit at the table and gossip about the staff. She was funny and clever and an incredible cook.
“You should get paid for this,” I said, taking a big slice of the most incredible apple pie I’d ever seen in my life. “Seriously Bea. Whatever he’s paying you, double it.”
“Oh, I don’t think I could do that,” she said. “I’m happy to do it, really. I like baking.”
“Never took to it,” I said, shoveling a bit forkful into my mouth. A small radio played Top 40 hits nearby and the gleaming stainless steel of the semi-professional kitchen looked like the inside of a refrigerator. “But I really do like the end product.”
She smiled and sat down across from me. “Listen dear, I’ve been thinking,” she said, and I sensed that this wasn’t going to be great, so I put more pie in my mouth. “What do you plan on doing while you’re here?”
I shrugged a little and waved the fork around. “This,” I said with a full mouth.
She made a face. “Chew and swallow, dear.”
I obeyed and sighed. “Dean asked me the same question,” I said.
“Did he now?” She raised an eyebrow. “What’d you tell him?”
“I told him I planned on sitting around for the next five years,” I said. “He didn’t believe me.”
“I don’t either,” Bea said. “Why not help me cook? Or we can find a hobby for you, or maybe you can go back to school.”
“School?” I asked. “I doubt he’d let me do that.”
“There are online degrees,” she said. “Lots of them. And we can afford them, God knows it.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” I said softly, taking another enormous bite. I was going to choke, but that wouldn’t be such a bad way to go.
The doorbell rang, deep and booming. Bea jumped to her feet like a trained animal. “Think about it,” she said, brushing her hands on the apron. “We can talk later.” She scurried off to get the door.
Poor Bea stuck in this house, but at least she had a purpose. Even though it’d been a few days, I was starting to think that Dean was right about me.
Which only made me mad. The bastard didn’t know me and yet he acted like he did. I kept thinking about that night after the club when he pulled me against him, kissing my neck, feeling my ass, all to tease me into submission, and I hated that it worked. I was embarrassed that he could so easily manipulate me.
But then again, I couldn’t stay bored for five years out of spite.
Bea returned a minute later, looking chagrined. “It’s your uncle, dear,” she said.
“Okay,” I said, shrugging. “I’ll hide out here.”
“He’s here to see you, actually.” She gestured back toward the living room. “I have him in there.”
I didn’t move. “Can I still hide in here?” I asked.
“Better not,” she said.
I sighed, stood, and looked sadly at the pie. “I’ll miss you,” I whispered.
“Don’t talk to the food, dear,” Bea said as she ushered me out. “It’s very weird.”
Uncle Roy sat in a large leather easy chair. I approached halfway across the room then looked back for some support from Bea, but she was already gone. Couldn’t blame her, being around my uncle wasn’t pleasant.
“How’s marriage, niece?” Uncle Roy asked me, frowning appraisingly.
“Fine,” I said. “What do you want?”
He laughed. “Look at you. Marry the Don and now you don’t think you have to be polite to your uncle anymore.”
“What do you want?” I asked, arms over my chest, glaring at him. “I’m very busy, you know.”
“I’m sure,” he said, and pushed himself to his feet. “I’m here to talk about babies.”
I coughed and blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
“Babies,” he said. “Children. With Dean.” He tilted his head. “I assume you’ve been thinking about it.”
“Absolutely not,” I said, absolutely aghast. I recalled our conversation with his Capo Gian from that night at the club. It’d feel right when I found the right person.
Well, that hadn’t happened yet.
“I know it’s very soon and you’ve barely been married, but we need to make sure this alliance is real,” Uncle Roy said. “An heir to the family is what we need now. A Paganini heir.”
“Jesus,” I said. “I’m not talking about having Dean’s babies with you,” I said, disgusted.
“Don’t be like that, Mags,” he snapped. “You don’t have to be a prudish little child. Grow the fuck up. We need you to sleep with the Don and get pregnant, and the sooner you do it, the better. You have slept with a man before, haven’t you?”
“Oh my god,” I said, striding away. “I think I have to go blind myself now.”
“Get pregnant,” Uncle Roy said. “Do your duty.”
“I already did my duty when I married the asshole,” I said. “I never agreed to have his kids.”
“What the hell do you think marriage means?” Uncle Roy asked, walking toward me. “I need you to get pregnant. Do your damn duty.”
“Oh, go to hell,” I said, and stormed past him. He tried to grab me, but I was tired of the men in my life grabbing my arm whenever they wanted something from me, and wrenched myself free. He cursed as I shoved the living room door open and left him shouting behind me.
I was flushed and angry and embarrassed as I practically ran down the hall, and much too distracted to note when Dean’s office door opened. He stepped out just as I went past, and I smashed into his knee and went sprawling to the floor.
My shoulder bashed onto the tile floor and I groaned.
“Shit,” Dean said. “Mags, are you okay?” He helped me up to my feet and steered me into his office.
“I’m fine,” I said, though I was definitely not fine. My shoulder pulsed where I’d hit it, and I didn’t appreciate getting manhandled by both my uncle and my husband.
“Sit here,” he said, and gently pushed me down into a chair. He filled a glass with whiskey, because of course whiskey, why not, it cured everything. He shoved it into my hand.
“Yeah, okay,” I said, and drank half it down. The burn felt good in my throat.
“What the hell was that back there?” he asked, perching on the edge of his desk.
I sighed and met his eyes. I didn’t want to do this, not with him, but it was too late for that. He wore a tight button-down dress shirt, top button undone, tie loose and dark navy with small star patterns. The sleeves and the pants fit him like a dream, and I realized all over again that my husband was absolutely gorgeous, and a complete nightmare.
“My uncle visited,” I said.
“I heard him yelling. Should I get rid of him?” He tilted his head, and I knew he meant it.
“Don’t bother,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll let himself out.”
“What did he want?”
I sighed, closed my eyes, and drank the last of the whiskey. “He wants me to have your babies,” I said.
Dean laughed once but his smile slowly died as I stared up into his eyes.
“Seriously?” he asked.
“I think that’s his endgame,” I said. “He wants me to seduce you and start pumping out little heirs to your stupid mafia throne. Like I’m some horse out to stud or something.”
“The male horses go to stud,” he said softly. “But anyway, I understand your point.”
“Babies weren’t part of the bargain,” I said. “Marriage was all I signed up for.”
“True,” he said and ran a finger down his chin. I thought of that finger running down my skin, down between my legs—
Maybe the alcohol wa
s a bad idea.
“It’s crazy,” I said. “He thinks it’s my wifely duty or something like that.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad though,” he said.
And I gaped at him like he just ripped off his own face and it turned out that he was actually a two-headed lizard.
“Sorry, did you just say you want to have kids with me?” I asked, shaking my head. “What was in that drink?”
He laughed and shifted to sit down in the chair next to me. “I’m not saying we need to have kids right now, but it would be fun to make them,” he said.
“And then there’d be dirty diapers, sleepless nights, and, oh, yeah, our marriage is a sham based on money, so—” I stopped myself before I could go down that never-ending rabbit hole.
He laughed and held up his hands. “All fair points. And even still, thinking about fucking you, coming between your legs, getting you pregnant with my baby—”
“What is wrong with you people?” I asked and jumped to my feet. “Is there some rule in the mafia where you have to say crazy things?”
“Babies with you wouldn’t be so bad,” he said. “At least you’d have something to do for the next five years.”
I clenched my jaw so hard I thought it might break. “Is that what you think of me?” I asked. “I’m some baby factory for you? Some toy for you to fuck and get pregnant?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s what you said.” I stormed to the door. “God, every time we talk, I’m reminded why you’re such an ass.”
“Mags,” he said, standing. “Wait, hold on. I’m just saying, kids might be a good idea.”
“For you, maybe,” I said. “For me, not so much. God, you’re unbelievable.”
“Think about it,” he said.
I flipped him off and left his office.
Bea stood in the hallway wiping her hands on her apron. “Are you okay?” she asked.
I stormed past her. “I’m surrounded by crazy people,” I said.
She gave me a sympathetic smile. “Yes, you are, dear.”