by Ivy Fox
“I have to say this is quite a surprise. You’re not who I expected to come to see me,” he announces, and I don’t miss how he, too, seems interested in taking stock of me from head to toe.
“Oh? Who did you expect?”
“Not you,” he continues, his grin turning wider, seeming oddly pleased with my visit. It’s quite disconcerting.
“You know who I am?” I ask, and the man’s smile stretches further if that’s at all possible. He pensively strokes his beard with his handcuffed hands.
“If memory serves me right, you can only be one man. Dominic Mancini. Am I right?”
“Hmm,” I nod stiffly, my concern increasing by the second in regards to what else Red could have told this man about us.
Still, Selene has never been a foolish girl. If James knows who I am, who I really am—a made man through and through—then I have to assume that James is at least trustworthy. And if he’s not, there are always ways to make someone like him disappear. Knowledge of syndicate life must be contained within the famiglia at all costs—the Omertà code demands it. And James, no matter how good he might have been to Selene over the years, is still very much a normal. And normals don’t live by the same sacred codes we hold dear. They typically have a conscience. And those pesky things usually come with snitching tongues.
“If not me, who else did you expect to see?” I ask, curiously.
“Yesterday I received a call from my lawyer saying he was dropping my case for personal reasons. Then today I was contacted by the best defense attorney in the state, offering to represent me pro bono. I assumed that either Vincent or Giovanni was the mastermind behind such a move and wanted to meet me in person. I don’t mean to offend you at all, but I always had the suspicion they were the brains in your trio,” he adds carefully.
“Not offended at all. They are. I’m just the muscle.” I shrug at his assessment of me.
“Hmm. That might be true, but hearing the way Selene talks about you, I always thought you were more than that. Strength sometimes is more powerful when it comes from the heart, not the body,” he responds calmly. “Regardless of who is behind my new appointment of counsel, you have my gratitude.”
“That would be Giovanni. He likes to meddle,” I grunt, worried that Gio went behind Vincent’s back on this one call.
“I’m sure he does.” James chuckles but then winces once he inadvertently hits his right ribs against the steel table.
“I see you’re getting acquainted with prison life. Was it the guards or one of the other inmates who did that little number on you?” I ask, pointing at his bruised ribcage.
“Some of these fellas don’t take to new faces on their block. They’ll get used to me soon enough,” he laughs off, gaining a bit more of my respect with his relaxed view about taking a beating.
Only once have I had the pleasure of being locked away in a cage, and it ain’t fun in any regard. Guards are usually pricks on a power trip, and the gangs like to show their strength by intimidating a new fish until they have him cowed into submission. No proud man wants to be on their knees for any fucker, and I’m guessing James is no exception.
“So, you came all this way. I’m sure there is a reason behind it. What do you want, Dom?” he asks, getting straight to the heart of the matter.
“Honestly, I’m not sure anymore,” I reply, scrunching my brow.
“Hmm. I get that,” he counters, his brown eyes showing too much understanding and compassion for my liking.
“I came here to see the man who took away the only woman I ever loved. Thinking I would cuss you out and spit in your face from the mere sight of you, but I don’t feel the rage I thought I would,” I murmur honestly.
“That’s because I didn’t take her away. She left. It was her choice, not mine,” he rebukes, his tone still smooth and commiserating.
“Yeah,” I mumble under my breath. The truth, no matter how much you know it by heart, is never easy to hear coming from someone else’s lips.
“Okay. So if you’re not here to talk smack at me, I’m guessing you might have questions you’d like to ask,” he ventures.
“I do. But I’m not sure I want them answered yet.”
“I get that, too,” he counters, leaning back into his seat and appraising me thoughtfully. “I can tell you this though; Selene came into my life when I most needed it. I was a shell of a man, with no purpose until the day she drove into my garage needing help.”
“So you helped her.”
“Yes, and she rescued me,” he states with no reservations whatsoever. “I could tell she was suffering from the same illness I was so afflicted with—grief. We were both mourning a life we couldn’t have back. She was lost, and so was I. We found each other at our worst. That much I can tell you, Dominic. Is that enough for you?” he asks sincerely, and I nod my head, not wanting to hear how they helped each other mend the pieces of their broken lives. It will only remind me of how we three have never been able to do the same. Not without Selene.
There is a loud buzzing that interrupts my troubled thoughts. James stands up, his smile just as genuine as when he arrived.
“I don’t know how you pulled off getting in here today, with your name not being on the visitor’s list an’ all. But I must say, it was an honor meeting you, Dominic,” he says, stretching out his hand toward me. Without a second thought, I take it and shake his hand, pulling him closer to me.
“Did you do it? Kill your business partner?” I hush in his ear, wanting to know if the man before me is as honorable as he appears to be, or a fabricated con.
“He was my best friend since kindergarten. I would have rather sliced my own throat than lay a finger on him. I’m no saint, Dom. I’ve killed for my country, and I’d kill for my family. But I would never take a life without just cause. Especially someone I cared about,” he exclaims without missing a beat. I hear the truth in his words.
This man is no cold-blooded killer. He’s a savior—one of the good guys.
Ironic how it will be rotten, ruined mafiosos that will come through for such a heroic man.
Once I leave O’Hare Airport, I flag a cab and tell the driver to take me to the club. Ciro is going to be coming by this afternoon, and I have to act like today has been nothing but business as usual. Don’t want my underboss to know I’ve been away from Chicago since the crack of dawn, meeting Selene’s husband of all people.
Although Ciro was nothing but focused on finding Selene when she disappeared, he has no skin in the game now that she’s returned. Apart from Vince, Gio, and I, the fewer people that know where she is, the better. Of course, The Thorn is hardly the first person I’d think of that would run to The Butcher with this bit of info, since I know he loathes the bastard as much as we do. Still, loose lips sink ships, and I intend to keep mine shut.
Instinctively, I grab the trinket in my pocket once again, toying with the silver bracelet as delicately as my large hands can muster. Since Selene brought it back to me, I haven’t been able to part from it for too long. I just wish its owner felt the same.
I shake my head, not wanting to dive into those wistful thoughts, so I call Vincent instead, and he answers promptly.
“Is it done?” he questions, without even a greeting.
“Yes. It’s done.”
“And?” he adds.
“He seems legit. Don’t think he is capable of doing what he’s been charged with,” I tell him.
Even if I hadn’t heard the truth in his denial, after a few questions here and there, I knew the cops had grabbed the wrong man. As noble as James seems to be, his late best friend was not. A compulsive gambler, the dirtbag pawned everything he owned and then some, to feed his addiction. Having had an addict for a father, I’m all too familiar with the tells of a guy who would prefer the thrill of a bet, to the loyalty of a friend.
James—being the dignified champion that he appears to be—tried to scare his friend straight in a heated argument
once he caught him stealing from him. A dispute witnessed by all the men working in his garage, revealing just how upset James was with the asshole. For his own shitty luck, the very next day the same dirtbag showed up dead in James’ garage, butchered with a screwdriver. The police didn’t even think twice to charge him with the crime. Finding blood on one of his denim work shirts also didn’t help his cause, no matter how many times James said the shirt could have been worn by anyone who had access to his shop.
Tennessee is Bratva territory, and by the way the fucker died, he owed money to the wrong people and was made an example out of it. James was just the fall guy they pinned the job on. Just crappy luck all around.
“Hmm,” Vince hums. “One thing I’ve learned in my life is that men lie, and lie well,” he states matter-of-factly.
“Not this guy. I don’t think he ever told a lie in his life,” I defend but I only get silence in return. “So are we going to help him? Help her?” I finally ask, hoping this time I get a straight answer.
“I’m thinking about it,” Vincent retorts coolly.
“Clock is ticking, Vince. Guy is big and all, but he looked a bit roughed up,” I tell him, hoping he understands that James, for all his size, isn’t equipped to be locked up.
“I don’t care,” Vincent deadpans.
“You should. He means something to her,” I retort, annoyed Vincent can’t put his own shit to the side and do the right thing.
“I doubt anyone means anything to Selene.”
“Vince—”
“I have to go. I have a meeting with our Irish brothers that I need to focus on,” he huffs out, irritated.
“They still giving you shit?”
“Isn’t everyone?” he says before hanging up the phone.
“Asshole,” I bite out and immediately feel like shit for thinking so ill of him.
Vince has his plate full of syndicate bullshit as it is. With the Irish and the Canadians wanting to get the ball rolling in obliterating the Cosa Nostra, the Outfit is still debating if it will be more trouble than what it’s worth, and Vince is put in a corner where he has to answer to all sides, while still maintaining his authority. Being boss isn’t what it’s cracked up to be, and I should be more sympathetic to his troubles.
It isn’t easy being king.
The cab parks right at the DeLuca’s club doors, and I hand him a benjamin for his troubles. I barely step one foot inside the club, before I’m approached by its bouncer.
“Blondie’s back,” he advises.
“Where is she?”
“Had her stashed in your office for the past hour. Thought you might appreciate her being where I could keep an eye on her. That one is a bit of a troublemaker,” he adds, with a sly smile on his face.
“Don’t I know it,” I mumble and head downstairs where Selene awaits me.
When I open the door, my eyes and heart thank me for the heavenly sight.
“You’re in my seat, Red,” I groan, faking annoyance.
Selene gives me her genuine smirk and stands up, offering my seat back. She’s wearing a sweater dress with leggings underneath. The getup must have cost only fifty bucks—so unlike the girl I grew up with, who used to wear only designer clothes. Yet, without all the bells and whistles, she is still the most beautiful thing I’ve laid eyes on.
“Come here, Red.” I chuckle and lift her off the floor, just to sit her pretty, peach ass sideways on my lap.
I hold her to me, nestling my head close to her ample breasts, and just take a minute to enjoy this feeling again. Her fingers go straight to my hair, running through each strand, and I wonder if she, too, missed playing with its previously longer locks. The day I cut it off, I couldn’t help but think about her throughout the whole ordeal. It felt like a sacrilege to cut off something she loved so much. But then again, she changed her appearance as well, no longer holding the crimson locks I fell in love with. But blonde or red, she is still my Selene.
“I missed you.”
“I did too,” she hushes, placing a tender kiss on the top of my head.
“Did you?” I question, tilting her chin with my fingers toward me, wanting to see her gorgeous face lie to me.
“Every day, Dom. I missed you every day,” she replies tenderly, and God forgive me, but I believe her.
“Tell me about him.”
“About who?” she questions nervously, and I see the fear in her eyes.
“Your husband,” I answer, softly caressing her face, so she knows she is safe in my arms, regardless of the topic we’re discussing.
“Oh,” she says, relieved. “There’s nothing much to tell. He’s a good man. One of the best I know,” she explains, and I don’t miss the lack of heat behind her words.
“Do you love him?” I ask outright, after such a lukewarm explanation regarding the man she’s married to.
“Hmm,” she mumbles.
“Red, I asked you a question. Do you love him?” I insist more forcefully.
“He saved me,” she answers with a meek smile.
“Is that why you came back here? To try and save him?”
“I came back asking for justice, Dom. He doesn’t deserve being locked up in jail for something he didn’t do,” she rebukes stoically.
“Always so righteous,” I tease softly, playing with a strand of her blond hair, wishing I could take such liberties forever.
“You mean just?” she counters.
“Same thing, Red.” I grin, and bring her face to mine, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.
But my girl has other intentions, so she slips her tongue inside my mouth and deepens the kiss into a fevered blaze. Unable to deny her, I let her have at me, kissing her in the same maddening frenzy she is so keen on keeping. We’re all bruised lips, inquisitive tongues, and clashing teeth. I lift her off her side and bring her to saddle me completely. She never wavers once, keeping her lips on mine, while slowly rocking her heated pussy on my covetous cock. Before insanity hits me in full force, I break away from our kiss and tightly hold her still.
“Tell me the truth, Red. Did you sleep with Gio?”
“Yes,” she pants, her tongue wetting her lips while her forest-green eyes show the same unadulterated fire.
“Why?” I groan as she continues grinding slowly on the part of my body that weeps to conquer her.
“Because I wanted to,” she answers, unashamed.
“Even though you’re married to another man?” I ask, and there is a small tinge of shame that coats her cheeks, but too tiny a feeling to dampen her lust.
“Yes,” she lets out on a bated breath.
“Red,” I grunt almost close to losing my own self-control with her constant rub on my lap, “tell me something else.”
“What?” she almost moans in desperation.
“Do you want me?”
Her eyes light up like a Christmas tree as she confirms her needy desire.
“Did you come here to seduce me?”
“Are you above seduction?” she teases biting my lower lip, making my eyes roll to the back of my skull.
“Not when you’re the one doing it, no,” I admit.
“Then what’s stopping you from taking what has always been yours?” she whispers hoarsely, and that’s all my restraint can take.
I pull the dress over her head, wanting to have her skin touch mine. My girl is of the same mindset as she rapidly unbuttons my dress shirt with eager fingers. I unsnap her bra, my eyes zeroing in on her perfect, pink nipples, and my mouth latches onto one as my hand lightly squeezes the other.
My love is just as ravenous, as she pulls down my zipper, fondling my hardened cock, making its ache all the more uncomfortable to bear. My hungry mouth sucks each nipple to peaked perfection, as she frees my shaft from its confinement. My cock jumps at the feel of her delicate hand on it, and I let out a pleading moan.
“I need you inside me, Dom,” she begs, and I pull away from her cherry p
eaks, only to plant my lips on hers for another searing kiss. Motivated by animalistic arousal, too tainted with heady passion, I rip a wide hole through her leggings, right at her center, and slip her panties to the side. My fingers meet her wet, welcoming core, and I almost cum with such a passionate greeting alone.
“Fuck, I’ve dreamt about this,” I reveal between ravenous kisses.
“Enough talk about dreams, Dom. I’m real. You’re real. Make us real, too,” she pants, stroking me into oblivion.
“Fuck!” I grunt, lifting her ass just high enough so that I can center myself at her opening and do as she commands. I try to be as gentle as possible with my intrusion, but a desperate moan passes through her lips, silently pleading to give her more. She clings on to me for dear life, her nails biting into my shoulders while sinking her teeth into my neck. I welcome the pain as much as the pleasure. I keep to my hard thrusts, enticed by the sound of her hips bucking against mine. Her walls instinctively clench around me as I shove her down on my hard length. I bite my inner cheek, making the iron tang sweep through my mouth, which keeps me from losing my load at such a miraculous union. Her pussy takes me all in; hot and warm, and oh so inviting. My corded muscles contract so deliciously under her ravenous touch, as I plunge into her warmth.
“Yes! Dom! Yes!” she wails, taking whatever control I may have left.
The pressure is so intense that I begin to go blind, deaf, and dumb, losing any train of rational thought as she bounces on my cock, milking it for all it’s worth. I open my eyes and meet her sultry stare matching my hooded gaze.
Another strangled moan leaves us both as we become unhinged and strain to keep our love within these four walls. Her small clit rubbing on me every time it meets its counterpart has a maddening effect on us both. Selene throws her head back, breathless and ethereal, as she keeps to her fierce and savage attack—enough to take me over the edge.