Waste of Worth (DeLuca Duet Book 1)

by Bethany-Kris

Dino’s confusion must have been obvious in his expression, because Ben smiled in that cold way of his, tipping his glass toward his oldest nephew.

  “You, Dino.” Ben shrugged, taking another drink of whiskey. “That only leaves us with you.”

  Well …

  “I don’t want a wife,” Dino said quietly.

  Why would he ever want to bring someone into the hell that was the mafia? How selfish of a creature would he be to trap a woman in a life where the next day was not promised and the world that should be safe and happy was constantly in an uproar and unstable?

  As for him …

  Dino was a broken man, unable to even sleep at night, and he wasn’t even sure he knew how to love a woman properly, let alone give her a happy life.

  No, marriage was not in his future.

  “Want and need are two very different things. And it isn’t about what you want or need, Dino, it’s about la famiglia. That’s the problem with the Outfit—when a family is quiet for too long, when they do nothing to better their position, then they fade into the background and are seen as weak. Is that what you want for the DeLuca family—to be a target?”

  In a way, Ben was right.

  That was the culture of the Outfit and the families within it.

  They were always competing, always fighting. It never ended, though it was tiring.

  “How much higher do you want to be exactly?” Dino dared to ask.

  Ben eyed him from the side, taking in the question. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You said this was to move the family up in the Outfit—our family specifically. Exactly how high do you want to be, Ben? You’re the underboss, and we both know you have zero interest in running the streets as the front boss like Riley does. So where are we going exactly?”

  Ben smiled that cold and familiar sight again.

  It made Dino sick.

  His uncle always smiled before something bad happened, especially where Dino was concerned. He’d seen that smile too many times to count before he’d ended up in a hospital, making up some lie as to how he’d earned himself another broken bone or one of many bruises.

  “We’re going up,” Ben said. “All the way up, Dino.”

  “The boss is your friend,” Dino replied, referring to the Outfit’s leader, Terrance Trentini.

  “There is no such thing as friends, Dino. Haven’t I taught you that over the years?”

  Yes, yes he had.

  DINO watched as one season left, and a new one came. He didn’t mind the passing time, the days bleeding together and the weeks drifting away before his very eyes. He wasn’t the type of person who counted time, unless of course, he had something to wait for.

  He hadn’t had something like that in … well, forever.

  But with new seasons came new business.

  Case in point, the strip club down in the Heights that Ben had finally had enough of, and decided to sign over to Dino for a half-decent price. The Heights was one of the dirtier parts of Chicago, with a higher crime rate, shitty schools, and all the characters that came along with it.

  Dino liked it.

  If only because he could do nearly all of his transactions from behind the desk in a back office of the strip club as it allowed for little surveillance. All types of people walked in and out of the joint, and no one would blink an eye at the many patrons that slipped into the back offices, with envelopes in hand, after enjoying a show from the girls.

  Dino took each and every envelope with a grin-and-bear-it attitude, only counting the money and dispersing the dirty cash where it needed to go when he was alone again. Automatically, seventy percent of anything he made went to the boss of the Outfit. Then, ten percent of his cut went to Ben without question.

  He was left with the rest.

  It wasn’t anything to scoff at, as far as that went.

  Add in his many business ventures, from clubs to restaurants, and Dino was doing okay financially. He only wished his many bank accounts, including the several he had offshore to hide funds, would give him some sense of security.

  They didn’t.

  “Hey.”

  Dino glanced up at his brother’s voice, finding Theo leaning in the doorway of the office with his usual scowl in place. Theo always stuck around to keep an eye on the people coming in and out when tribute was coming up and people had to pay their dues. It was the only time the two brothers managed to work well with one another without some sort of fight starting up.

  Money could do that to people.

  “What do you want?” Dino asked.

  “New recruits are waiting for you.”

  Dino sighed, rubbing at his temples to ease the headache starting to form. He’d slept like shit the night before—frankly, he slept like shit every night—but he was running on less than two hours sleep over a span of several days. It was starting to show, considering he didn’t have the slightest fucking clue what Theo was talking about.

  “The what?”

  “The people who put in applications for the dancing job—strippers, Dino.”

  Oh.

  Yeah, shit.

  “How many showed up?”

  He’d have to watch a routine from each one. Most men probably wouldn’t mind that, getting a free lap dance or watching a woman grind mostly naked against a metal pole. Dino wasn’t one of those men. Once he saw one or two strippers, he’d pretty much seen them all. It certainly didn’t help that he saw them every night when he came into the club to do business.

  “Three,” Theo said.

  Dino pushed his papers away, and grabbed the stacks of cash he’d set aside. Tying a rubber band around one of the smaller piles, he tossed it over to his brother. Theo caught it without hesitation, stuffing the rolled up bills into his pocket, his pay for the week.

  “Vet them for me?” Dino asked. “I’ve got a headache and I need a drink.”

  Theo cocked an eyebrow. “You okay?”

  That seemingly simple question took Dino off guard for a second, if only because his younger brother rarely put forth any effort to actually seem like he cared. Dino didn’t mind because it was just Theo’s personality. Some shit couldn’t be helped. They were products of their violent raising.

  Dino was the same way, mostly.

  “Fine, just tired. Will you do it?”

  Theo shrugged. “Do I have to act like I’m interested?”

  “Are you?”

  “Hardly.”

  “Then no, just vet them. I only need one to fill Chrissy’s spot for the duration of her pregnancy. Make sure whichever one gets the job knows that once Chrissy decides to come back to work, their position will no longer be needed.”

  “Got it,” Theo said over his shoulder, already leaving Dino behind.

  Dino stared at his brother’s back as Theo disappeared down the hallway.

  Story of his life … He was always watching people walk away; he had yet to find a person he wanted to follow after.

  “What’ll it be, boss?”

  Dino took a seat on the bar stool, waving at the many bottles behind the bartender. “Vodka, straight.”

  Tossing the bar rag over his shoulder, the man turned to ready Dino’s drink. In less than a minute, Dino was sipping on the best vodka the club stocked, and the thumping in his temples began to lessen.

  If only for a short while …

  Out of the corner of his eye, Dino watched as Theo sat down in a private, roped off section of the club to do what he’d been asked.

  It was only when he heard his brother call out a name, asking for the woman to come out from the back, did Dino really pay attention.

  “Karen Martin, you’re up first, sweetheart.”

  Dino blinked, his glass freezing as he tipped it up for another drink.

  Karen.

  He hadn’t heard that name spoken once in how many months?

  Three now, at least.

  It had to be random, he thought. Had to be. There were more Karens in Chicago than the one Dino had met
months ago, and purposely chose to ignore because she did nothing more than make him smile.

  Besides, hadn’t she said she was a photographer?

  She was, and he knew she was.

  He had no reason to get bothered and uncomfortable, simply because another woman shared the same name as her.

  Except …

  Dino’s throat tightened, and he sat a little straighter on the barstool.

  Except it was the same Karen he’d met all those months ago in the cemetery that walked out on the stage wearing a black lace ensemble that showed off just about everything. On their own accord, Dino’s gaze traveled up the long length of tanned legs, the swell of hips, and a curve of a delicate waist. Slender fingers wrapped tightly around the metal pole when a song started up in the background, drawing Dino’s attention to the black fingernail polish she wore.

  Jesus.

  Why was she here?

  She was a photographer, not a stripper!

  Better yet, why did it bother Dino so goddamn much?

  He tried to ignore the scene happening twenty feet away, even going so far as turning his back to Karen and his brother, though he couldn’t help but look over his shoulder every so often. To give Theo his due, he didn’t seem all that interested in what was happening on the stage, only jotting down a note once in a while on the pad of paper in front of him on the table.

  Before Dino knew it, he’d been staring at Karen for … minutes.

  Guessing by the time left in the song, she had another minute to go.

  He could fix this situation fast enough if he really wanted to. Once she was done, he could remove her presence—and whatever strange interest he had in her—by simply telling his brother the first dancer was a no, and to choose between the following two. He could do it without Karen even seeing him, or knowing he was the one who owned the joint.

  Dino didn’t need to be getting himself involved with people.

  He didn’t need to be feeding interests that would lead nowhere.

  What interest, his mind taunted, she made you smile.

  Exactly.

  It was nothing, and he wasn’t going to make nothing into something.

  Stupid people did dumb shit like that.

  Dino was not stupid.

  Then, he made the mistake of looking around, gaging patrons in the room. The club, when hiring dancers, always did the vetting when the place was open for business. That way, instead of simply judging the girls’ ability to dance by what they could do on the pole, they could also take note of which dancer the male patrons seemed to pay more attention to.

  There were a lot of eyes on Karen.

  More than Dino was comfortable with.

  Hot in his gut, he clenched his hand tighter around the glass, trying to ignore the strange sensations coursing through his nervous system. He didn’t know the woman, nothing beyond her name and one of her professions. They’d never even had a half-decent conversation. Where in the fuck did he get off feeling like he had any say over what she did or who looked at her?

  Apparently, it didn’t matter.

  Or rather, Dino’s body decided it didn’t matter for him.

  He was getting up off his chair when he knew there was perhaps another thirty seconds left to the song. The beautiful woman spinning around on the pole in six-inch black heels didn’t seem to notice as Dino approached Theo from behind, though that could be because of the shadows in the club.

  All too soon, Dino was at his brother’s back and tapping Theo on the shoulder.

  “What—”

  “Move,” Dino ordered.

  Theo turned in the chair completely, giving his brother a strange look. “I’m doing what you told me to.”

  “And now you’re moving.”

  With a frustrated sigh, Theo tossed his pen down, got up, and headed for the bar. It was only when Dino sat down in the leather chair his brother had vacated did the woman dancing with nothing but scraps of lace to cover her body finally notice him.

  Karen damn near stumbled in her heels as her gaze landed on Dino.

  He was pretty sure he was a sight to see for her.

  He knew how he looked on a regular basis—cold featured, well-dressed, and unapproachable.

  He was all of that in those moments, except he was more then, too. More, because his gaze was locked on her, his pants were getting uncomfortable as fuck, and he was two seconds away from yanking her off that goddamn stage and covering her with his blazer.

  Karen’s mouth opened to speak, her grip on the pole tightening. “Dino—”

  “Get down right now,” Dino uttered.

  The words had come out on their own accord, practically ripping from his chest and forcing their way past his clenched teeth.

  Karen’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Get down before I bring you down myself.”

  He wasn’t very good at the whole communication thing.

  He figured he was clear enough, because Karen didn’t hesitate to listen.

  The moment Karen’s heels clicked on the hardwood floor of the club, Dino was standing, shrugging his coat off and tossing it over her shoulders. She didn’t refuse the jacket, her gaze drawn down to the floor as he began directing her toward the back offices.

  “What are you doing?” Karen asked.

  Dino scoffed.

  He didn’t have a fucking clue.

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “Trying to get a job,” Karen said quietly.

  Dino could hear the slightest hint of shame in her voice, like that statement was the very last thing she wanted to admit, especially to him.

  As soon as Dino got Karen through the threshold of his office, and slammed the door closed, she jerked out of his hold and spun on her sky-high heels. The click-clack of them hitting the floor drew his attention down to her long-as-fuck legs.

  Again.

  Get out of your head!

  Or rather, he needed to stop thinking with his cock.

  At that thought, Dino shifted his gaze to Karen’s face, doing all he could to ignore the way her cheeks were the sweetest color of pink, and how much his fucking cock liked the look of her embarrassment.

  “I can walk just fine, thank you,” Karen said, shrugging Dino’s jacket of her shoulders and handing it over to him. “And I came here to dance, not to be covered up. What is your problem?”

  She had no way of knowing this strip club belonged to Dino, of that, he was most sure. He’d only recently gotten it from Ben, as far as that went, and beyond that, he had never given Karen his last name during their two previous meetings.

  This was all … random.

  Or fate, his mind taunted further.

  Right, fate.

  Dino didn’t believe in coincidences, but he also didn’t believe in shit like destiny, either.

  “I thought you were a photographer,” Dino said, his words coming out almost accusatory.

  “I am. I also need to pay my bills, thanks.”

  Ouch.

  The bite in her tone stung.

  “And who the hell are you to pull me down off the stage like that?” Karen asked when Dino stayed silent.

  “The asshole that owns the place.”

  Karen’s fight deflated in an instant. “Oh.”

  Dino’s guilt climbed higher—he didn’t believe Karen had done anything wrong, or had anything to be ashamed of, but he was clearly making her feel that way.

  Clearing his throat and glancing away, Dino dared to ask, “You seemed very … well-versed on the stage.”

  “Is that your way of asking me if I strip often?”

  “No, that’s—”

  “I went to art school for photography and dance. I could only make a career out of one of them after I broke my knee climbing the side of a bridge to get a shot of a river. But even that’s crapping out considering I am one of hundreds of photographers in this goddamn city that’s struggling to make ends meet.”

  Well, then …

&nbs
p; “Okay,” Dino said, giving Karen his attention again.

  She cocked a brow at him. “Okay? Does that mean you’re going to move so I can go out and finish what I was doing?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  Dino shook his head. “Nope.”

  No way in hell.

  “YOU need a job, I’ll get you a job.”

  Those words were haunting Dino. If only because he’d done exactly what he said for Karen, and got her set up in his restaurant working as a server. But because he couldn’t just leave it at that, and had checked up on her several times over the period of a couple of weeks, he’d quickly learned he was undervaluing her ability and what she was capable of. The woman had a knack for numbers and schedules, something that particular restaurant had trouble with since opening.

  It seemed like they were always short on staff because of scheduling issues, and the books were a mess because like most of his businesses that were able to hide funds, Dino shoved dirty money into the records to hide it from the government. But he didn’t want the bookkeeper to know he was doing it, and so, expected them to show where it was coming from without showing where it was actually coming from.

  Now, at a month and a half after she walked into his strip club, the woman was scheduling his employees, working the books like a pro, and seemed quite happy doing it.

  Dino shouldn’t know how well she was doing at all, never mind that she was happy about it, but he did.

  He made at least two trips a week to a restaurant he had previously despised visiting just to see Karen. She never asked him why he showed up at random times with a coffee in hand for her, simply took it with a smile and continued working on whatever task she had for the day.

  Today was no exception.

  Dino pretended to flip through a recent order of supplies while Karen typed away on the laptop, muttering under her breath every so often about extra cash and where it came from.

  He hid his smirk by looking down.

  She had to know—like his previous bookkeeper—that he was pillowing funds into the business. She had to realize she was, essentially, cooking his books to make it all look on the up and up.

  Karen never said a thing.

  “So …”

  Dino glanced up at Karen’s random statement. She was staring right at him, those soul-deep brown eyes of hers lighting up with curiosity. Her pretty features distracted him for a moment, keeping him from responding as he took in full lips and flushed cream skin. It never failed to amaze him how she always looked as though the whole world—everything surrounding her—interested her with all its details, even the mundane things.