by Amy Cecil
“Are you freaking kidding me? What am I, twelve?” I ask. “That’s bullshit, Vince, and you know it. I’m a grown woman.” I try my best to stand my ground, but inside, I’m terrified to face him again. I can’t look at his beautiful face and his crystal-blue eyes. I can’t smell his cologne. I can’t.
“Zaira, humor him. Please.”
I shake my head.
“Zaira, the man loves you. He wants to see you, and he will use every excuse he can to make that happen. Go see him. Once you speak to him, then you can go to Italy.”
He has a point, but what about my pride? Does he have any idea how degrading it is for me to go back to my soon-to-be ex-husband to ask him if I can travel to Italy? My ex-husband controls many people, and unfortunately, it looks like I am still one of them.
As if he was reading my mind, Vince says, “I know this is a bruise to your pride, Zaira, but be the bigger person in all this. We both know Michael is a prideful man. He will use his power over his family and us to get what he wants. And right now, he wants you. Just humor him.”
“Fine. I’ll call to see if I can see him after dinner.”
He kisses my forehead. “Good girl.”
I’m so tired of being treated like a child. As I walk back upstairs, I pull out my phone. I might as well get this conversation over with. Michael answers on the second ring.
“Zaira” is all he says.
“Hey, do you have some time this evening, after dinner? I want to come by and talk to you about Italy.”
“Sure, I could probably fit you in around seven?” He could fit me in. He’s being so cold. He’s being a jerk.
Pride, I tell myself, remembering I need to be the bigger person. “Perfect, I’ll see you then,” I say sweetly. The phone disconnects without another word from Michael. Looking down at my phone, I sigh. Damn.
***
About an hour before I am supposed to meet Michael, I decide to change out of my leggings and comfy shirt. Yes, I need to look good. I stop for a moment to wonder why and then I realize… it doesn’t matter. I want to look good. I pull out a dark denim jean skirt and a silk black blouse. I pull out my Harley boots, the tall ones that lace up the back, and a black cardigan. I quickly refresh my makeup and hair and get dressed. Once I am pleased with my appearance, I head downstairs to my car. I should have a driver go with me, but I’m so tired of being under the family thumb that I grab the keys to my Jaguar F-Type and head out the door in an act of rebellion.
Before anyone can stop me, I am pulling down the drive. In my rearview mirror, I see Vince and Darius on the front stoop calling after me. Immediately, Darius gets on his Harley and follows me. Michael allowed Darius to stay with me as my personal bodyguard after Vegas. Now he’s following me like a bat out of hell ’cause I know he’s terrified Michael will fire him if anything happens to me. Well, at least I can drive on my own. It then occurs to me this might be the first time in my adult life that I have been in a car alone. Not the first time I’ve driven, obviously, but seriously… Twenty-five years old and I am now having my first experience in a car alone. My life is so sad.
When I arrive at the Vitali mansion, I pull up to the front. Jude greets me and opens my car door. “I’m here to see Michael,” I say.
“Of course.” He takes out his phone and texts something, I assume, to Ricco who I am sure is standing guard outside of Michael’s office as usual.
A few seconds later, he says, “He’s in the pool house. Shall I escort you?”
Surprised that Michael is not keeping this formal by standing behind his desk, I say, “No thank you, Jude. I can find my way on my own.”
He nods. “He’s expecting you.” Well of course he is.
I let myself in the front door and make my way toward the pool house. When I walk through the patio doors, memories flood my mind. I think about the many lunches Michael and I had on this patio. As I walk down toward the pool, I remember how angry he got when I was out here in a bikini. He was so jealous that day. As I proceed toward the pool house, memories of the day we were shot at consume me. Michael was so strong and worried about me—but proud of me that I knew what to do in a crisis. He treated me like his equal and not a damsel in distress. This is gonna be so hard. Why is he making me do this? Again, I remind myself, Pride, Zaira. Pride and control.
I get to the door, and Ricco is standing outside as expected. “Good evening, Zaira. It’s good to see you again,” he says.
“Hello, Ricco.” I smile. I have always liked him, and I know he would lay down his life for Michael or me. “It’s good to see you too.” I pause. “Is it okay to go in?” I ask, gesturing toward the door.
“Yes, he knows you’re here.” Of course he does.
I walk in and am shocked at the sight before me. Michael is wearing his glasses, which he doesn’t wear often, and is sitting in the recliner. He’s dressed casually in jeans and a tight-fitting black T-shirt, and he’s got a freaking book in his hands. He’s reading. Not the newspaper, not a magazine, but a freaking book. I take a closer look and see it’s a classic. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas.
“Hello, Michael,” I say hesitantly. He looks so content and handsome sitting there. No, he doesn’t look handsome. He looks downright sexy as always, and my heart aches for him. For a minute, I forget everything that has transpired over the last several weeks. I forget we are separated, and I want nothing more than to run into his arms.
He closes his book and sets it on the table next to his chair. “Hello, Zaira. Nice to see you.” He’s cold, and it breaks my heart. But why? He gestures toward the couch. “Please, sit.”
I walk to the couch and sit. I can feel his eyes on me as I slowly cross my legs.
And to my surprise, he says, “You look nice.” He noticed.
“Thank you,” I say, curling my hair behind my right ear. “So you know why I’m here.”
“I do,” he replies. “And I appreciate you coming here to ask me yourself.”
I shrug. “Well, did I really have a choice?”
He shakes his head. “I guess not. I can be a real dick sometimes.”
“You can say that again,” I reply and immediately realize what I said.
He laughs. I mean, he really laughs and it makes me smile. “Well you didn’t have to agree so quickly.”
I’m surprised he’s not acting how I expected and even more surprised he is laughing at his faults. “Well?” I ask sheepishly.
He gets up from his chair and walks to the window. I watch how his jeans hug his ass, and I fight the urge to follow him and snake my arms around him. He has such a casual swagger to his walk. It’s downright delicious. I remember the many times we were intimate, and I begin to crave the feel of his body against mine. Without thinking, I get up from the couch and walk toward him.
“So, you want to take a trip,” he says, staring out the window.
Standing next to him, I touch his arm tenderly. “I do, Michael.”
He shakes his head. “You can go, but I don’t want you to leave until after the omertà.”
“But—”
“Zaira, please don’t argue with me on this. There are things going on with the family. I prefer you stay close until I can get a handle on them.”
“But, Michael, I have nothing to do with the family business.”
He looks at me and reaches his hand up to caress my cheek. “Oh, Zaira,” he says sadly. “But you are wrong. You have everything to do with the family business.”
Lost in the blue depths of his eyes, I feel him lean closer to me. He wraps his right arm around my waist. In one swift movement, he pulls me close and takes possession of my lips with his own. I don’t hesitate or fight him. I kiss him back eagerly. I’ve hungered for him for weeks now, and here I am, in his arms being kissed. His lips are soft and urgent against my own. His hands roam, pulling me closer to him. My arms reach up around his neck to hold his lips against mine.
We continue to drink from each other, the passion w
e both have been denying for so long. I’m lost. I’m confused. I’m in love. And then the dream crashes before me as I realize I’m in love with a killer. I’m kissing a killer. I quickly pull my lips from his and push him away. He falters backward, breathless.
“What the fuck, Zaira!” he yells.
“Exactly, Michael! What the hell are you trying to prove?”
“You wanted it just as much as I did, sweetheart. Admit it.”
“I most certainly did not,” I lie, and the sad thing is he knows I’m lying.
“You’re a fucking liar, Zaira. I felt it. You felt it. You are in fucking denial!” he yells.
“How dare you!” I know he’s right, but it will be a cold day in hell before I let him know that. Before he can say another word, I say, “I agree to your terms, but the day after your omertà, I’m leaving!”
I walk toward the door with purpose. As I reach for the handle, he shouts, “Damn Cleopatra! You are becoming a master at the dramatic exit. Bravo!” He claps.
Asshole! And he called me Cleopatra? Why the fuck did he call me that? I’m too mad to give him the satisfaction of asking. I huff, open the door, and walk out.
Chapter 5
Michael
Vince is right. She still loves me, I think as she slams the door behind her. In the glow of the moonlight, I watch from the window as she stomps off. She hesitates when she gets to the pool, and I wonder if she’s decided to come back for more. But after a few seconds, she continues to march back toward the main house. It’s okay, Zaira. You go for now. But I can promise you this: you will be back.
I sit in my chair and pick up my book again. Tomorrow is my meeting with Gallardi, a meeting I am not looking forward to. It’s been a long time since I picked up a book. I forgot how much I enjoyed it. And besides, reading helps me get my mind off of Gallardi.
***
After breakfast, I meet Ricco, Alex, and Sal out front. The Gallardi meeting is in a little over an hour. I wanted to keep them away from the house, so I asked them to meet at the offices of one of our legit businesses in Manhattan. Bella Celeste is one of the top modeling agencies in New York City and has been owned by the Vitalis since its inception in 1952. We’ve represented some of the biggest names in the industry, and we hire the best and most-sought-after photographers. When someone hires a Bella Celeste model, they know they are getting one of the best.
Bella Celeste is one of our many legit businesses that I am proud to be the new CEO of, thanks to Pop’s retirement. The company needs some work, and when things slow down at home, I intend to focus on making Bella Celeste not one of the best, but the best. The building is comprised of twenty-five floors housing many entities to support the fashion industry, all of which are owned by the Vitali family. My office is on the twenty-third floor with the rest of the executive offices. When I walk through the door, our newly hired and eager assistant, Laurel, greets me.
“Good morning, Mr. Vitali,” she says as I walk up to the desk with Ricco, Sal, and Alex at my side. Augie remained out front to let us know when Gallardi arrives.
“Good morning, Laurel.” I lean over the counter and check her out. “You’re looking quite lovely today.” She stands, and I get the impression she wants to show herself off to me. I take a second look at her, and she really is a beauty. She is easily five foot nine inches, which makes her quite leggy in the short flowy skirt she is wearing. Her gray silk blouse is unbuttoned low enough that I can see the voluptuous swell of her breasts. Her dark-brown hair hangs long and straight just past her waistline. Yes, she is quite stunning, and she will do perfectly. I grin at her. “So, Laurel, I was wondering… Do you have any plans next Thursday?” I know the last thing I should be doing is dating my staff, but what the hell. I’m not the first boss to date an employee, and I won’t be the last. Besides, I’m not gonna sleep with her. It’s all for show.
Ricco kicks my foot in front of the desk—as if to say What the fuck are you doing?—but Laurel is oblivious to everything around her except me. “I would have to check my schedule, sir, but I think I am available.”
Sir, I like that.
“Why, what did you have in mind?” Oh yeah, she is primed and ready for the taking.
“Well, I’ve got some old friends coming in to town on Thursday, and we are having a dinner at the house. Wanna be my date?” I ask.
She blushes. She fucking blushes. “Oh, Mr. Vitali, I would love to,” she coos.
“First of all, Laurel, call me Michael. I’ll have one of my guys pick you up around six.” I turn to head toward my office when I call out behind me, “Give Ricco your information.” I swear I heard Ricco grumble as I walked off.
A few minutes later, Ricco walks into my office and yells, “What the fuck, Michael!”
“Not now, Ricco,” I warn.
“Dammit, Michael, what the fuck are you doing? Zaira is going to be at that dinner. You bring Laurel there, you will lose every last chance you had at winning her back.”
Sal knows better and remains quiet, letting Ricco do all the talking.
“Ricco, I love you like a brother, but you are overstepping here. I know what I’m doing.”
He grunts and lowers his voice to a whisper. “Yea, that’s what you said last time, and look how well it went.”
“Ricco, enough! I’m not discussing this anymore.” Damn, both him and my father… I hate it when they can see right through me.
He sits in a chair and pouts. I hate it when he does that. I know he is right about risking everything by bringing Laurel to that dinner, but if I am right about how Zaira reacts, the end result will be worth the risk.
“Ricco, look. I know you mean well, but there are things you don’t know. First of all, Zaira is having a hard time with the split. Vince is sure she is having second thoughts. Second, she wants to get away, to Italy, to think things through. Both of those right there tell me there is hope.”
“Then why fuck it up with a date?” he asks.
“Because, jealousy and her thinking I have moved on will nudge her one way or another. If she is still harboring feelings for me—and let me add right here that after our kiss earlier today, I know she is—then the thought of losing me to someone else will drive her right back into my arms. Sure, she’ll be pissed at first, and I am sure her first reaction will be to walk away. It’s a risk. I know.”
“It’s a life-altering risk if you ask me.”
“It is, but when have you known me to play it safe? I’ve always taken risks. Some I’ve won; others I’ve lost. I’m not one to sit by and idly wait for shit to happen.”
“Fuck, Michael, I hear what you are saying. I just don’t know though.”
“You don’t have to. You can either support me on this or not. It won’t affect anything either way. It’s all a matter of opinion.”
“Then put me on the fence for this one.”
“Done.” I pause. “So did you get Laurel’s info?”
He hands me a piece of paper and says, “Yep, got it right here.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
“So Gallardi should be here any minute,” he says, changing the subject. “You ready for this?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“So what are you gonna tell them?” he asks.
“I’m gonna listen to their proposal and then I plan on telling them I will get back to them,” I say. “One thing I know for sure is that I’m not making a decision today.”
Ricco nods. “That’s a good move.” I look at Ricco incredulously, in shock he is not fighting me on this move.
“Bravo! Something you actually agree with me on,” I tease.
“Aw fuck, give me a break, Michael. It’s hard being your best friend, your bodyguard, and your enforcer, and your go-to guy all at the same time. Sometimes I just need to separate myself.”
I smile. “I know, man, sorry. I shouldn’t have teased. I know I can always count on you to keep me in check. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
&nb
sp; Ricco’s phone beeps. “That’s Augie. Gallardi just got here. He’s escorting them up.”
“Good, tell him to stay in the reception area with Laurel in case things don’t go well.”
“Got it.”
A few minutes later, my office phone buzzes. “Mr. Vitali.”
“Yes, Laurel.”
“Mr. Gallardi is here to see you.”
“Thank you, Laurel. You can send him in,” I reply.
Seconds later, Gallardi and five of his goons walk into my office. Damn, maybe I should have brought more guards. I rise from my seat, and Ricco and Sal follow suit. Reaching my hand out to shake his, I say, “Mr. Gallardi. I’m Michael Vitali. It’s a pleasure.”
He shakes my hand and says, “Mr. Vitali. We finally meet.” His English is well spoken for a man who has lived his entire life in Mexico. There is just the slightest hint of an accent. “I hope you don’t mind if my boys join us.” He gestures toward the entourage behind him.
“Of course not, as long as you don’t mind mine. And please, call me Michael.”
He nods. “Romeo.”
I gesture for him and his men to sit at the large oval conference table at the other end of my office. Once they are seated, I take my seat, and Ricco and Sal join me at the table. I was not looking forward to this meeting and now that it is starting, I want it over with. “So we have a proposal to discuss.”
Romeo smiles. “Yes, our proposal is this: We want your family and associates to move our product into New York City and the surrounding areas. Some will be sold to the locals, and some will have to be moved across the border into Canada. You have a lot of muscle in the state, and I believe the Vitalis could be a huge asset to our organization.”
“What type of product?” I ask.
“Cocaine… heroin mainly. We dabble in some other recreational stuff, but not much.”
“What type of timeline are we looking at for the runs?”
“Two to four runs a month,” he replies.
“Our cut?”
“Twenty percent.”
“Twenty?” I try to hide my disbelief. This guy is nuts, and the last thing I want to do is show him any emotion. “Isn’t that a little low? I know the going rate is a lot closer to forty.” This asshole is trying to lowball me, and it’s pissing me off.