Dealer and his Bestowed Bride (The Rossi Family Mafia Book 2)

by Avery Hawkes

  I threw them aside and then stood back up to look at her.

  Her wedding dress was huge and looked uncomfortable, sleeping in it would most likely be impossible.

  "I'm going to take off your dress," I said, raising my voice so she could hear me.

  "Whatever," she said in reply.

  I sighed. Even though I had seen underneath all that fabric when I had taken her garter belt from her leg, it was still a bit nerve wracking taking off Piper's dress.

  What was wrong with me? I had taken off hundreds of dresses in my life, and none left me pausing to think beforehand.

  I tired to be gentle, unhooking the back then unzipping the dress. Slowly, I wriggled the dress down and off her.

  She was beautiful, even if she was drunk as all hell. She rolled over once the dress was off and grumbled. Piper wasn't wearing a bra, and she flashed me her perky tits as she stretched out. I so wanted to touch those pert mounds, her nipples erect from the cool air. I wanted to kiss them and feast on her flesh. But another part of me knew that it would have to wait.

  I sighed, adjusting my newly-formed erection in my dress pants, then gathered the covers on the hotel bed and opened them for her.

  "Get in," I whispered, moving my lips close to her ear. She groaned, but did as I said, climbing under the blankets so I could tuck her in. I then went about grabbing a water from the hotel fridge and setting it beside her on the table, since she'd probably need it. As I was about to walk away from the bed to take a shower in the bathroom, I felt a hand reach out, then grab the front of my pants.

  I was still hard, having spent much of my time staring at her half-naked body. Jumping slightly, I looked down to see Piper, with her eyes half-lidded staring at my junk.

  "Nice package," she said, raising an eyebrow.

  "Nice tits," I replied.

  We stood in a grid lock, eyes blazing into each other. That sensation I had felt when we kissed at the altar started to come alive again, but died as soon as it started as Piper's hand dropped and she passed out on the pillow.

  After a few seconds of silence, I chuckled and that turned into a laugh. I laughed myself all the way to the shower. While I was disappointed that we didn't have the ability to consummate the marriage on our wedding night, it didn't matter in the long run.

  I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror as I undressed, my tattoos visible without my shirt.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Piper, her sleek body and our kiss at the alter. I wanted to taste her again, but it would have to wait.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Piper

  My head felt like it had been hit by a truck or two, despite taking pain medication. Luca had told me it was just over the counter stuff, but I had been wary anyway. Yah, I was just as involved with the Mafia as he was, but I was always distrusting of drug dealers, especially those who were full of themselves.

  We were standing in the airport, waiting in line to get through baggage security. After the shit show that was my wedding, the last thing I wanted was to get on a plane and have a fake honeymoon in another country. All I wanted was to curl up in a ball and hug my pillow.

  "What's a six letter word for Ethiopian export?" Luca was fully into a crossword puzzle he had picked up at the Hudson News store. I grimaced at him.

  "My brain doesn't work," I grumbled.

  "Neither does mine, and I bet my brain has been through way more damage than yours.”

  "Wanna bet?" I shot back.

  He glanced up from his crossword puzzle, squinting at me. He was a strange man, a lot different than most I knew. He was handsome, with chiseled features and tan skin, but he was also put-together. There was a certain air of authority that he gave off and I wondered if that was why he had been chosen by the Mafia for whatever crappy job they wanted us to do.

  "Well, if last night is one of your daily rituals," Luca said, "I stand corrected."

  Crap. The reception was mostly a blur. I did remember a fair deal of it, but mostly the parts where I made a fool of myself and acted out. The anger that had been bubbling in me all week had surfaced, and the only way I knew how to deal with those feelings was to drown them in expensive wine.

  For some reason, I felt ashamed for being such a bitch to Luca and his family. His family was the reason I was getting married against my will and I kept telling myself that my feelings were legitimate ... but something was bugging me.

  "Hey," I said, poking Luca in the side.

  "Do you have the six letter word?"

  "No, I need to talk to you about something else."

  He nibbled on the tip of his pen and stared at the puzzle for a few seconds. His eyes brightened and he looked up as though a light bulb had been turned on over his head.

  "Coffee, of course!" Luca scribbled on the paper.

  I poked him in the side again. "Hey."

  Finally, he put the puzzle down and turned to me, giving me his undivided attention. I took a few deep breaths, butterflies forming in my stomach. The longer I was silent, the more worried Luca looked.

  "I-I think we started this off on the wrong foot. No ... I started this off on the wrong foot."

  "You shot me," Luca said monotonously.

  My face became red and I started to get flustered. "Um ... yeah, I mean—yeah. Sorry." There was an awkward silence that formed between us as I tried to figure out what I was going to say to him. Damn it, why was I suddenly such a dunce? I blamed my hangover.

  "We're two professionals," I finally said after clearing my throat. "We were hired to do a job and I didn't handle the transition professionally."

  He was looking at me, a smile faintly playing on his lips. It looked like he was trying his hardest to be serious. That made me a bit pissed. Here I was trying my hardest to make peace and he just thought I was a joke. But he was right. Our jobs were jokes and whatever our marriage was, it wasn't that serious either.

  "I hope that we can be better colleagues in the future," I said, trying to swallow my pride. My hand raised up in the offering of a handshake, like I would do for any professional peer. You would have thought I grew two heads from the way Luca was looking at me.

  Before he could shake my hand in agreement, I felt a few taps on my shoulder. I whipped around, lowering my hand. Mr. Armento stood next to the line and gave us his polite smile.

  "Congratulations you two. Sorry I wasn't able to offer my well wishes at your reception. It seemed like you were swept away by passion rather early."

  I rolled my eyes. "What do you want?" I asked.

  “I was just visiting to see you two lovebirds off.” He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. Not for a second did I believe what he said, especially after what he pulled with this job. I crossed my arms across my chest and waited for something better.

  “Here,” he said, reaching into his inner jacket pocket. A card was deposited into my hand soon after. I turned the business card over. It was grey, with a number on the back of it and a fleur de lis on the front. The symbol was embossed with shining silver.

  “When you get to Florence, call this number. He will give you a time and place to meet the men you’re visiting.” He handed the same card to Luca, who placed it in his own back pocket.

  “You are staying at Hotel Il Salviatino, check in at the front desk and they should supply you with a honeymoon suite.”

  I groaned under my breath and stepped forward in line as the travelers moved closer to the security check.

  “Thank you, Mr. Armento,” Luca said. He was all prim and proper and it made me simultaneously want to throttle him and jump his bones.

  I had vague memories last night of grabbing at his crotch and I had woken up without my dress on. He had seen me without a shirt and it was extremely embarrassing, I grew red-faced just thinking about it.

  “Is that all?” I asked, trying to work through the conflicting feelings. Mr. Armento winked at me.

  “Enjoy your honeymoon, you only get one.”

  My eyes turned t
o slits and he gave me a chuckle, then offered me his hand to shake.

  “Don’t make me hurt you,” I said, placing a hand on my hip. It only made him chuckle louder, then he turned to Luca, who took his hand calm and professionally.

  “You have a firebrand there, Mr. Rossi. You may need to tame her.”

  I kept my hands by my sides, trying to control the anger that was boiling up inside of me. With a final farewell, Mr. Armento turned on his heel and walked toward the JFK parking.

  The flight was long, too long. I kept myself entertained by the in-flight films. None of them were great, but the mindless images and sounds soothed me. Every now and then, I took the business card out of my purse and looked it over, watching the light glint off of the card stock.

  My mind wandered to what the Mafia wanted from us. Whatever the job was, they needed a married couple, and specifically picked out Luca and I for the job. A sniper and a drug dealer, brought together for what reason? My eyebrows knitted together with worry. Whatever it was, it gave me a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  Every now and then I’d glance at Luca, who was sitting in the window seat beside me. My new “husband” had taken sleeping pills before getting on the plane. His head was leaning against the closed window and a snore would escape him every once in awhile. I wished that I could sleep like that, but I was wired since Armento gave us the card. Even though it would be better to sleep off my pounding headache, I sat and watched the moving pictures, envisioning all of the worst case scenarios that could possibly be awaiting us in Italy.

  The trip lasted twenty hours before we finally stepped foot in Florence.

  Luca, of course, looked like sleeping beauty, awakened from a well-rested sleep. While, I on the other hand, was pretty certain that I looked like death. So much so, I had recoiled after catching a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the train window from Milan to Florence. After only being asleep a few hours on the train, I was jerked awake by children running in between the seats.

  The mid-afternoon sun was shining onto the platform, and since it was the off-season we didn’t notice a sea of tourists. I hoped we didn’t stand out like sore thumbs. Luca lead me toward an information station, where I was able to ask the woman behind the glass where our hotel was. When looking at the map, it was centrally located and close to many of the tourist attractions.

  When we hit the cobblestone streets Luca grinned at me like a kid in a candy shop. I raised my eyebrows in reply and even if I was as excited as he was, I was trying to keep it inside. Everything was older than in the states, and memories of my childhood started to flood back to me. I had spent a holiday in Florence when I was a child and had memories of running through the Piazzas and ancient allies much to my parent’s dismay.

  I moved to the states when I was six, so Europe was a distant memory, but it was still refreshing to be back where I spent such formative years.

  “Hey,” Luca said, elbowing me out of my trance as I ogled the lovely buildings. “Wanna get some gelato?”

  Sighing, I tried my hardest to look at him with an “are you kidding me” sort of look, but that quickly broke down. I let out a long sigh of defeat. “Alright,” I said.

  Luca walked up to a small window that sold gelato and picked out treats for the both of us. A few minutes later, Luca offered me a small bowl of green and white with a grin.

  “Pistachio and Coconut,” he said. I snatched it away from him and continued walking down the street, making him follow my lead. He caught up and we walked together in silence, enjoying the sounds and smells of the Renaissance city and eating our gelato.

  I found myself smiling uncontrollably, even though I told myself that I wasn’t going to. Finally, we turned a corner and saw the large, white church with an orange dome. The Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, the center of the city, rose over the streets and greeted us with it’s epic façade.

  As soon as I saw it, the business card started to burn a hole in my pocket.

  Damn it.

  Luca started walking without me, but I grabbed his shirt to stop him.

  “Hey,” I said. “Don’t you think we should call that number Armento gave us?”

  Luca shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, we don’t have to hurry.”

  I squinted, trying to figure out his angle. Then I realized, he looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight quickly from side to side.

  He was just as nervous as I was to find out what the Mafia had in store of us. Based on the “test” I had been hired to work for, I didn’t blame him. If whatever they wanted him to do was like stealing drugs away from the Russian Mafia, I would want to bide my time too.

  “Well …” I kicked one of the cobblestones beneath my feet. “I guess we could check into our hotel first.”

  Luca grinned, his entire mood lifting at my words. He gave me a light slap on the upper arm.

  “That’s the spirit,” he said.

  “It looks like there’s an espresso shop over there,” I said, pointing and giving him a small smile, “Perhaps we could stop there on the way to the hotel.”

  “It sounds like a marvelous idea,” he replied.

  We ended up going to about six different places on “the way to our hotel”. We saw the inside of the church, walked through a few small shops, grabbed huge sandwiches for lunch, then had a glass of wine while sitting at the Piazza della Signoria. As we people watched, I noticed there were hundreds of well-dressed Italians walking the streets. Perhaps there was a fashion event?

  Luca and I kept up a conversation about the things we observed. Luca was chattier than I was.

  “Did you see that gypsy? She just pick pocketed that fat guy’s wallet!”

  “Wow, this wine is very … dry.”

  “I wonder how old that building is.”

  “Can you translate the menu? I don’t know Italian.”

  I was fine translating and doing all of the talking when we walked into a shop or bar. Luca just stood behind me, trying to look as masculine as possible, even if his wife was doing the ordering for him.

  “How long has it been since we arrived?” I finally asked after my second glass of wine. I had felt like we were getting to the point where we were putting off the inevitable, even if I was enjoying my time with him. Damn it, I wished I didn’t like listening to his opinions about food, art and the Italians that walked the street so much. He always had something witty to say and I had to hide a chuckle more than once.

  I would sneak looks at him sometimes, as he was people watching. His hair was fluffed up and his eyes sparkled in the Italian sun. He seemed so … alive inside.

  Why did I seem so dead compared to him?

  "I guess it's been long enough," Luca replied, getting up and dusting off his pants. He left Euros on the table and then offered me his arm. For a few seconds I didn't think I would take it, but something in me decided on a whim to grab his forearm and let him walk us out of the piazza.

  I hadn't noticed his smell while we had traveled, but it was starting to get into my head. He was an intoxicating mix of cologne and sweat. He smelled manly, but not bad. His scent triggered something in my body, in my reptilian brain that only wanted to mate.

  After we walked for a few minutes, I noticed that I was starting to get hot and bothered against my will. Wetness was forming in my panties and I about swore to myself.

  Stop it, stop it, stop it, I told myself over and over in my head. But it was no use. There was something just physically attractive about Luca that my body could not get over, even if my mind was screaming at me to get it together.

  "Here we are," Luca said. I had been too distracted by my feelings to realize we had made it to our destination. We had walked through the weaving cobblestone streets and finally exited the maze at the river. The Arno was shining in the morning sun and people were walking and driving their scooters along it. Statues flanked one of the bridges and the lovely art seemed to watch us from above. I couldn't help but feel the inanimate objects we
re judging me. Perhaps the saints knew what we had done, and who we worked for. I smiled at the ridiculous thought. Had the one wedding supplanted a large dose of Catholic guilt in me?

  "Where is it?" I looked around for any sign of a hotel, but couldn't find it.

  Luca pointed across the river toward a group of buildings that looked out onto the water. "You see the one with the flowers hanging off the balcony?" he asked.

  "Yeah," I followed his finger over to the grand building next to it.

  "We're staying there. Our luggage should already be delivered since we took so long to find it," he winked at me and I found myself catching my breath. Damn it, I needed to focus on the job at hand, not my fake husband.

  We walked along the river, feeling the breeze that danced across the water. It was time that people were going to work and many professional Italians passed us, going about their day-to-day business. It seemed like it would be magical to live in such a place.

  When we arrived the woman at the front desk checked us in without a word. It seemed like she had been waiting a long time to check us in, and she was nervous as she handed Luca our keys. She knew who we worked for, to be sure.

  There was no elevator, so we walked up three stories in order to get to our room. Luca kept a quick pace while I huffed and puffed up the stairs. I wished that I was in better shape, the type of shape that I had been in two years ago, but that had been lost to the bottle and Chinese take out.

  When we finally checked into our room I tried not to look in awe at the place we were staying. I didn't want to give Luca the impression that I liked the job in the least.

  What I didn't want him to know was that I had never seen a room so beautiful in all my life. It was smaller than the hotel room we had stayed in the night of our “wedding”, but that made it feel cozy, not cramped. There were freshly cut flowers in a vase in the middle of the room, along with chocolates and more champagne. In the corner, there was a lovely antique arm chair next to a shelf of books, most on Italy or Florence and other neighboring cities.