Jack of Spades: A Mafia Romance

by Rose, Renee

  I’ve been trying to make Corey believe I’m something else. Something beyond a shady mafioso. Something sophisticated and trustworthy and fucking upstanding.

  But Junior had to roll into town with the whole pack of guidos and expose me for what I am.

  One of them.

  Chauvinistic, paternalistic, low-class seedy bastards who grope prostitutes and act like assholes.

  “Hey,” Corey says softly when we get in the elevator.

  I can’t even look at her. I’m so goddamn ashamed. Ashamed and angry. I pace around the small elevator, stabbing my fingers through my hair.

  “Hey,” she repeats, grabbing the lapels of my jacket and stepping into my space. She drops her hand down to cup my balls and suddenly it’s on.

  Fighting already gives me a cockstand, so it’s easy to switch gears from fight to fuck. My dick lurches into her hand and I spin her around and pin her against the elevator wall. The doors ding and open at our floor, but I hit the button for the rooftop, and they close again.

  “Get those long fucking legs up around my waist,” I growl like she’s in deep trouble, when really, I’m the guy who ought to be on his knees right now.

  She complies and I thrust into the notch between her legs, the damp heat of her pussy providing the beacon for my aching cock.

  The elevator doors open and I carry her out, right onto the roof. The Bellissimo has a rooftop restaurant a few stories below, but this roof is utilitarian, with HVAC, mechanical systems and other equipment. I push her up against the HVAC unit and work my zipper open to free my erection.

  I tear her panties off with a tug that makes her squeal and then I’m in her, sinking into her heat.

  I’m mindless with need, thrusting like my life depends on it. Like if I just get deep enough, I can erase every hurt and anger I’ve ever suffered. Like her pussy is home base and if I can just get deeper, just claim it completely, I’ll have won.

  Corey wraps her arms around my neck, hangs on and rides me, her hips tilted to take me deeper, her little moans and cries the soundtrack to my lust.

  “I need you, baby,” I mutter, frantic to just fuck her harder, just get deeper.

  “I know, I know,” she pants.

  I lean in and bite her neck, hang on with my teeth, making her whimper on the next thrust.

  And then I’m gone.

  Heat flashes at the base of my spine, my balls tighten up.

  I lose my vision—or maybe I close my eyes, I can’t tell—but everything goes black, stars burst from the periphery as I roar loud enough for all of fucking Las Vegas to hear.

  Corey screams, too and I come, emptying into her, her pussy milking—

  Oh fuck.

  I yank out, coming on the wall between her thighs, on her dress, on my hand. Her feet drop abruptly to the ground

  “Fuck, baby. I didn’t protect you. I’m so sorry. I lost my head.”

  “It’s fine; we’re fine. I got on the pill last week.”

  I sag in relief. “I’m clean. I swear to you.”

  “I am, too. I just got checked.”

  “Grazie Dio.” I lean my forehead against hers. For a moment I stay there, just breathing her breath, keeping our connection. “I’m sorry you saw me like that. I’m embarrassed, Corey.”

  She wraps her arms around the back of my head, burrowing her fingers into my hair. “Are you kidding?” She massages my scalp, gazes up at me with her electric blue eyes. “No one’s ever defended me before. I’m not the kind of girl who plays damsel in distress, in fact, part of me wants to tell you off for assuming I couldn’t handle it myself. But, Stefano, I’m pretty much swooning right now. You’re a knight in fucking shining armor.”

  I stroke the sides of her waist, trying to contain my anger over her first words—no one’s ever defended her before. How can that be? Not a parent? A friend? “I guess people usually assume you can handle things on your own. Hell, I know you can. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna go in swinging for you every fucking time.”

  She traces her fingernails down the sides of my neck. “Swoon,” she murmurs.

  “Yeah, baby, I’ll make you swoon.” I curl my forearm under her knees and sweep her into the air, damsel style. “Let me take you back to my bed.”

  She laughs—a husky sound—and kisses my neck.

  I carry her to the elevator, and refuse to put her down. Even when we get into our suite, I keep holding her, bringing her to the balcony, where I sit on the wicker loveseat and arrange her on my lap.

  I stroke her back, dismayed to discover it’s covered in tiny scrapes from the wall of the HVAC.

  “No one ever defended you?” I ask. “Even when you were little?”

  She sighs. “My mom’s a doormat. That’s why she married my asshole dad, I guess. Sondra’s parents stayed out of it. I think my dad intimidated them, too. Sondra would’ve stuck up for me, but I’m a year older, so I was always the know-it-all. I didn’t let her nurture me much. It was always the other way around.”

  I kiss her shoulder.

  “Who was that guy, anyway? Anyone you need to worry about pissing off?”

  I scoff. “No. He’s some cousin. Nobody important. That’s why Nico let me get a few swings in.” Speaking of Nico, I’m an asshole to make him break up shit at his own bachelor’s party. I pull out my phone and text an apology.

  Corey watches me. “You and Nico are close.”

  “Yeah. Way closer than we are to our older brothers. Nico was my defender growing up. He protected me. We’re different from the rest of them, at least I like to think so. We didn’t take to family business, even though it was shoved down our throats. Honestly, I think Nico started hatching the plan for the Bellissimo way back in high school. Trying to scheme his way into a different future. And I’m lucky he took me with him.”

  “Were you here from the beginning?”

  I nod. I still remember breaking ground on this project—Nico and I showing up to supervise the contractors. “I got pulled back into family shit two years ago and had to go to Chicago. Then Sicily.”

  “And are you back to stay now?” She shifts on my lap to catch my eyes.

  Is she asking about our future?

  Can we even have one?

  “Yeah. If Nico needs help, no one else in the family can pull me away. Nico’s profits trump all else, so he can demand the soldiers he requires.”

  My phone buzzes and I check the message. It’s from Nico. I’m leaving. They’re too shit-faced to notice. Tony’s staying to keep an eye on things.

  I’m relieved he didn’t demand I come back. I should offer, but I don’t want to. I just want to hold Corey. Share secrets with her. Break in our new bed.

  Corey climbs off my lap. “Do you have to go back down there?”

  I stand and wrap my arm around her waist from behind, pull her back against me. “Nope. I’m staying right here with you, bella.”

  “Good,” she murmurs. “Let’s go to bed.”

  Chapter 13

  Corey

  “Tell me this isn’t a surreal experience for you.” I straighten Sondra’s wedding gown in the back and pour two glasses of champagne. We’re in her bridal suite, waiting for the ceremony to begin.

  “Out of body,” she confirms. “Why didn’t we elope? This is insane.” She looks beautiful in an open-back filmy affair, her hair in a loose up-do. The bouquet is champagne pink roses. I’m in a midnight blue cocktail dress, fitted over the hips with a flare at the calf.

  Nico and Sondra’s wedding is an evening affair, on the top floor of one of Chicago’s ritziest hotels. Nico hired a wedding planner who consulted with Sondra, so we’re pretty stress-free, other than having to deal with the two sets of families who couldn’t be more different.

  At least my dad wasn’t invited. Sondra’s parents leaned on her hard, but she didn’t budge. Of course, leaving him off the guest list wasn’t just for me. It’s for the entire Tacone family who wouldn’t appreciate the presence of a fed at any famil
y gathering.

  But even without that movie-worthy stressor, mixing Sondra’s midwestern family with the Tacone clan is pretty hilarious. If you have a sense of humor. Which we’re working on.

  I hand her a champagne flute and clink it with mine. “Drink up. It will help. I promise.”

  She gives a nervous laugh and we both drink. I guess we’re making up for her lack of a bachelorette party now. Nico attempted to head off the stereotypical Vegas girls gone wild by sending us to a spa week at the ritzy Miraval resort in Tucson. I have to say it was way better than anything I would’ve planned.

  A knock sounds on the door and I answer it. Stefano’s leaning against the doorframe in a perfectly-fitted tux, looking GQ worthy. “Hey, bella.” He gives me a lazy smile. “Are you ladies ready? The show’s about to begin.”

  I pick up our bouquets and hand Sondra hers. “Ready as we’ll ever be.” I toddle out on my dyed-to-match stilettos, which seem to be a half-size too small.

  We head to the doors for our big entrance. There’s an adorable flower girl and two little ring bearers. Sondra said Mrs. Tacone nearly had a meltdown, wanting every member of the family to be in the wedding party, but Nico ran interference. His other three brothers serve as ushers, which, even in their tuxes, makes them look like bouncers or bodyguards.

  I’m the maid of honor and Stefano stands as best man, which means he’s the guy who walks me down the aisle. I try to ignore the little voice in my ear telling me this could be us. We could be the bride and groom. It feels so easy. So possible.

  But it’s really not.

  The ceremony is blessedly short. My Aunt Susie, Sondra’s mom, is wiping tears from the minute Sondra walks down the aisle until they’re declared husband and wife.

  Afterward, we suffer through the photo shoot and then a sit-down dinner. I position myself in a seat near my mother and Sondra’s mom where I can watch everyone. I’m fascinated by the Tacone clan, the boisterous talking and gestures, the dark-haired good looks. Stefano and Nico’s mom is still lovely—clearly the source of Stefano’s beauty. And they have a younger sister, Alessia who is drop-dead gorgeous.

  A full twenty-instrument band sets up and starts playing, and Nico leads Sondra out for the first dance.

  Ugh, dancing. The thought of attempting anything but sitting in the damn bridesmaid shoes makes me grit my teeth. Fuck it. I’ll go find another pair. Who cares if they don’t match perfectly?

  I leave for my hotel room. Outside the banquet room, a few people walk through the hallway, mostly hotel staff. But then a familiar figure appears and I stop in my tracks.

  My dad smiles. “Hello, Corey.”

  I’d like to say I remained cool and calm, but considering the chill that sweeps through me, I probably lose all the color in my face.

  “What are you doing here? You weren’t invited.”

  “I’m working.” Of all the things he might have said, this is the worst. He’s still working the murder case. Which means Stefano is still a suspect. Maybe there’s even more to it I don’t know. All of them could be under investigation: Nico, Leo, Stefano, Tony. Me.

  I don’t care about me, though. Turns out I care about the Tacones.

  A lot.

  Whatever they’ve done—and I have to believe they’re not entirely innocent—I don’t want any of them to go down. In fact, I would do almost anything to keep that from happening.

  “This is a fucking wedding,” I snarl. “Unless you have a warrant, you need to leave now.” I pull my phone out and let my thumb hover over the screen. “Believe me, I can call some guys who will be happy to throw you out.”

  He grips my arm, way too hard. “What kind of idiot did I raise?” He’s been drinking. I smell it on his breath even though he seems perfectly in control. “You need to get away from these criminals, before they take you down with them—you and your little cousin.”

  Little cousin. For fuck’s sake! I yank my arm away, but it takes some doing. I’ll have bruises there tomorrow.

  “You know your boyfriend is my prime suspect?”

  “Get out! I’m calling security.” It’s a bluff, though. The last thing I want is for the Tacones to know my freaking father is here.

  This is my fault. My relationship with Stefano probably prompted his investigation. It’s just like my dad to need to ruin my life just to prove I was wrong. He was right.

  My head suddenly aches. My stomach feels like I swallowed an anchor.

  My dad gives a humorless chuckle. “I’m leaving. If you were smart, you would too.”

  I watch his back as he walks away. I hate the man.

  If the force of my hate was combustible, he’d go up in flames right now.

  And I do just want to leave right now. My entire body feels the effects of the meeting; my hands tremble, head pounds.

  “There you are,” Stefano says, walking toward me, an affable smile on his face. It fades when he sees me. “What’s wrong?”

  I rub my temples. “Uh, I have a migraine.” Not a lie. “I’m going to head to my hotel room to take something and change my shoes. I’ll be back in a few, okay?”

  He scoops me up into his arms. “Are those shoes bothering you? I’ll have to carry you, then.”

  My laugh is forced. He frowns, looking down at me. “Did something happen?” His voice is suddenly quiet. Almost deadly.

  If I weren’t already tense, I would’ve gone stiff. “No, nothing.” I hate lying to him. It makes me feel like I’m going to puke. “Hey, will you put me down? It hurts my head even more.” Now I feel like a bitch on top of it.

  He stops and lowers me to my feet, his brows together.

  “Just give me a few minutes. I need to regroup.”

  He nods and shoves his hands in his pockets, looking at me thoughtfully. I ignore the chills racing up and down my spine as I walk swiftly to my hotel room.

  Get it together, Corey. Get your shit together.

  * * *

  Stefano

  Something happened to Corey, I’m sure of it. If one of my asshole family members roughed her up, I will fucking kill them. It’s possible Junior found out about her dad. Wouldn’t he say something to me first, though? Or to Nico?

  Or is it her own family that has her off her game. Lord knows, I can sympathize with that plight.

  I knew this wedding would be a fuck-all of family shit. Corey said her dad wasn’t invited. Maybe someone gave her a hard time about that.

  I wish to hell she would just tell me!

  All she ever does is push me away. Enough that I’m not even sure she feels the same way.

  Not that I’ve come out and said I love her, or declared long-term intentions. I still haven’t figured my way around her dad and my family. I still don’t even know what long-term looks like for me and her. If I even know how to be in a committed relationship.

  Hell, just getting her to move in with me was a major endeavor.

  She probably won’t be walking down that aisle with me as anything but best man for a long time.

  If ever.

  She’s been wounded. Her dad did a number on her and she’s gun shy now. But I’m going to show her what it’s like to be with someone who has your back. Because if there’s anything good I learned from my family, it’s loyalty.

  It’s the willingness to die or go down for the people you love.

  And eventually I’ll teach her to trust me.

  Chapter 14

  Corey

  Nico flew us all to Chicago in a private plane, but we’re on our own heading back because he and Sondra are taking the private plane to Fiji for their honeymoon.

  Stefano and I head to the lobby at 7:00 a.m. the next morning to get a taxi to the airport. After the incident with my dad last night, I’d gone to my hotel room to pull myself together, and made it through the rest of the night.

  Stefano dragged me back from the shitstorm of thoughts in my head at the end of the night by pinning me down—literally with my wrists clamped in his big paws�
�and forcing me to hold eye contact the entire time he fucked me raw.

  It was brutal. And beautiful. By the time we both came—perfectly synchronized together, of course—I was fully present. In my body. With him.

  We get to the airport, and Stefano hands the tickets over to the United agent. “Two to Memphis,” she confirms.

  My head jerks up. “No—”

  “That’s right,” Stefano says.

  I hide my confusion because I don’t want to get punked in front of the ticket agent, but the minute we head for security, I grab his arm and pull him to a stop. “What in the hell is going on?”

  He hides a smile. “The world poker tournament starts tonight. I entered you.”

  My eyes must fill my whole face. “What?”

  “You heard me, bella, you’re going to be on TV. An international poker star.”

  My knees nearly buckle. “Stefano, are you nuts? It costs ten grand just to get in. I’m nowhere near ready for games like those.”

  Stefano’s expression turns serious. “Bullshit.” He has a way of saying bullshit that is all street. All scary, in your face, I-dare-you-to-lie-again attitude.

  I draw back, flushing.

  “When are you going to let yourself out of the box?” he demands.

  I’m trembling now, whether it’s from anger or fear, I’m not sure. “What box?” I raise my voice, because getting right back in his face is my defense mechanism.

  “The box you put yourself in to keep you small. To keep you from shining. Who are you hiding your brilliance from? Your dad? Yourself?”

  I slap his chest, because tears are shoving up in my throat and I’m pissed that he’s stripping me bare right here in the airport.

  He catches my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it with tenderness. “Because I see it in you every time I look, bella,” he murmurs. “Every goddamn time. And I want you to know what I know.”

  Tears well up. “What’s that?” I mutter.

  “There’s nothing you can’t do.”

  “Damn you, Stefano.” I blink back the water in my eyes.