The Leone Crime Family Box Set

by B. B. Hamel

  But one thing remained true, one thing pulsed solid and real.

  When Luca touched me, my whole world ignited.

  I hated it, loathed myself for it, but god, I couldn’t deny it.

  And soon it was going to get me into trouble.

  15

  Clair

  Mom sat in the back seat and didn’t speak as Luca drove back into the city proper, away from the little suburb I used to think of as home, but now seemed too small and too fake to be anything but a memory. He stopped at the safe house, let me run inside to get my stuff, then he drove us over to Don Leone’s place. Roberto was waiting outside to usher us inside, looking around the block like we might get ambushed at any moment.

  “There are rules here in this house,” Roberto said as he stood in the ornate entryway. A chandelier hung above our heads, glittering cut crystal, diamonds and glass, sending tiny rainbows all over the marble floor.

  “I’m sure there are,” Mom grumbled.

  Roberto ignored her. “You stay in your wing,” he said. “You will each have a room. There is room service, if you are hungry. There is a game room, a lounge. You will not wander the hallways, you will not leave your designated area. Do you all understand?”

  “Yes,” Luca said, his face serous. I nodded quickly, and Mom just crossed her arms and made an annoyed face.

  “Good,” Roberto said. “Come.”

  He led us upstairs, through a side door, down a short hallway, and through another door. I guessed we were somewhere in the center of the block, right in the middle of the great house.

  The place was dizzying. Uncle Luciano clearly bought up a bunch of houses all in a row, maybe owned the entire block, and gutted their insides. He turned the block into one incredible mansion, which was probably way against code and very illegal, but he did it anyway. The place seemed like a twisting labyrinth, and I had no clue how someone could live in it full-time.

  “This hall will be for you,” Roberto said. “Mrs. Riva, your room is here. Clair, you’re in the middle. And Luca, you’re at the far end. Lounge is through the red door, pick up your phone for anything you need, it will connect automatically.” He crossed his arms. “Any questions?”

  Nobody spoke. I looked around the hall, at the plush carpet, the paintings on the walls, the hand-carved molding, and wondered if I would ever stay in a place so obscenely wealthy again in my life.

  “Good,” Roberto said. “Have a nice stay.” He turned and left through the door, slamming it behind him.

  The hallway was relatively long, maybe the length of two or three rowhomes, with several doors along its length. I turned to Luca, about to say something, but Mom didn’t wait and didn’t bother with pleasantries.

  “I’m tired,” she said. “Might as well get this over with. Good night.” She walked to her door, threw it open, and slammed it shut behind her.

  I stared at the closed door and shook my head. It was so frustrating that my mother was acting like this, like she had any say in this, like there was any other choice. She couldn’t just grin and bear it like I had been this whole time. Instead, she needed to throw a tantrum.

  But as I stared at that door, I began to see how maybe, just maybe I’d been doing that same thing to Luca.

  “Come on,” he said, pulling me from my thoughts. “Let’s go see where you’re staying.”

  I looked at him and wanted to argue, but his smile made me reconsider. He turned and walked to my door, pulled it open, and flipped on the light. I followed him inside and stared around, my eyes wide with surprise.

  It looked like a room in an upscale boutique hotel. There was a huge velvet couch with a couple chairs around a glass coffee table set in front of a tiled fireplace, probably fake, pressed up against the far right side. On the left was huge bed, flanked by nightstands. Four posts held up gauzy tulle curtains and looked like they could cover the bed in a mosquito net. A sideboard held alcohol bottles, and there was no television in sight, but there was a statue that looked like it might be worth more than my entire life sitting on a table against the far wall. A door cut into a marble-covered bathroom with gleaming fixtures, and a walk-in closet sat barren except for two clothes hangers dangling at the far corner and an empty shoebox on the top shelf.

  “Nice,” Luca said. He walked over to a sideboard covered in alcohol bottles and opened a bottle of something brown. He sniffed it, poured some into a glass, took a long sip. “Want some?”

  “Please.”

  He poured a second glass and handed it to me. I walked around the room, looking at the vases, the fake flowers, the leather-bound books lined up on a shelf.

  “Do you think anyone ever uses this room?” I asked.

  “No way,” he said. “This has to be the guest wing of the house.”

  “But it’s spotless.” I ran a finger over a shelf. “No dust.”

  “Good point. Probably has it cleaned twice a week, just in case.”

  “Can you imagine being so rich?” I sipped the drink. Rough whiskey hit my tongue and I barely managed to choke it down. I reminded myself to take a smaller sip next time, or maybe skip the alcohol entirely.

  “Of course,” he said, sitting down at the end of the bed and bouncing a bit. “I can imagine it, but it’ll never happen.”

  “You’re a mob guy.” I shrugged a little, splashed my drink. “Might happen for you.”

  “Doubt it.” He looked at me, took a long sip, and shook his head. “I’ll always just be a weapon for these guys.”

  I chewed on my lip and leaned against the back of the couch.

  “You say things like that, but then you talk about how much you love the mafia,” I said. “I don’t get it at all.”

  “It’s not all black and white,” he said. “Despite what you think.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Like I don’t get complexity.”

  “You don’t seem to.” He tilted his head. “For example, this simmering sexual tension between us.”

  I snorted, sipped my drink, coughed, felt like a moron.

  “There’s no tension.”

  “I think there is,” he said. “You let me kiss you earlier.”

  “You practically stole it from me.”

  “It wasn’t the first time.”

  “What do you want me to say?” I asked. “You want me to admit that I find you attractive?” I took another sip and managed not to make myself look like I’d never had a drink before in my life.

  “Yeah, I do,” he said. “I want to hear it.”

  I laughed for a second, thought he might be joking, but his face was serious.

  “All right,” I said. “I find you attractive.”

  “I find you attractive, too.”

  “Great, we got that out in the open.” I held up my drink. “Here’s to the most fucked up part of this evening.”

  He laughed softly, sipped his whiskey, and stood up. He walked over to the sideboard, finished his drink, put his empty glass down, and turned to me.

  “What about this is so wrong?” he asked.

  “You’re a murderous mafia guy,” I said, sipping my drink as he came toward me. “You killed men tonight. You forced my mom into coming here, even though she didn’t want to.”

  “I killed men to protect you,” I said. “Not just for fun. I didn’t want to do any of that. And I brought your mom here because she’s safer in this house. Besides, I’m not the one that convinced her.”

  “Fine,” I said. I finished the drink and held the empty glass tight, clenching it hard as the whiskey burned down my throat. “Fine, okay, I convinced her. But still, you… you killed men tonight.”

  He stopped close to me and stared into my eyes.

  “Why do you care so much about these bastards?” he asked.

  “It’s the principle,” I said, my voice soft, a whisper.

  I grew up being told men like Luca were evil, should be avoided at all costs. I grew up hating them, hating what happened to my father.

  And now I wanted
him, wanted him so badly it hurt.

  Because he was protecting me.

  He killed for me. He came for me, made sure I was safe, and still wanted to go out of his way to make sure I didn’t get hurt. He didn’t have to do any of that, but he was doing it anyway, all because he seemed to value me for some reason I couldn’t even begin to understand.

  He wanted me. And I wanted him.

  It was sick and fucked up.

  And god, I don’t know if I could stop it anymore.

  He leaned down and kissed me. Slow at first, his hands on my hips, holding me tight. I kissed him back and sucked in a breath through my nose, tasting him, tentative and afraid.

  But he was a man, just a man, a delicious and gorgeous man.

  He pulled me tighter against him, kissed me faster. I tugged at his shirt and he pulled it off, throwing it on the floor. I pressed my hands against his rugged, muscular chest and abs, running my fingers down him, unable to help the soft gasps that escaped my mouth. He bit my lower lip and pulled at my shirt, taking it off, my hair spilling down around my shoulders as he took off my bra.

  I let it slide off, down onto the floor. He cupped my breasts and kissed my neck.

  “This is the truth right here,” he said. “Your body and mine. Once we get past all the abstract bullshit, the constant worrying about what’s right or wrong, there’s just this. There’s just what feels good.”

  “I’m afraid of giving myself away to that,” I whispered, half strangled with a moan.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  He bit my lip again then pulled me up to my feet. He dropped to his knees in front of me, kissed my stomach, unbuttoned my jeans. I grabbed his thick, full hair as he tugged them down, kissed my stomach. I kicked them off as he pushed me back up against the back of the couch, spreading my legs a little, tongue between my legs, kissing over my panties, my soaking wet panties, my mind a racing whirl of need, fear and god, yes, please.

  He pushed my panties aside, tongued me top to bottom, and I let out a wild moan, dipping my head back.

  He licked me fast, tongue lapping me up, tasting every inch of me. I grabbed his hair hard as pleasure bloomed hot and fast and wrong. God, it was so wrong, this man between my legs, licking me like this, after what had happened tonight.

  But I wanted it. I gripped his hair, I moved my hips, I let him lick me faster, his tongue on my swollen clit. I moaned, curled my spine forward, whispered his name. “Luca, god, yes,” I said, gasping.

  He kept going, licking faster, rolling his tongue along my spot like he knew exactly where I wanted him to touch. I moved my hips, matching his rhythm, my body on fire with need, so much need, so much pleasure, all of the pain and sadness and fear disappearing, overwhelmed by his touch, by his tongue between my legs.

  I gasped, my back arching. He sucked my clit just right, tongue rolling around it, moving faster, and I knew I couldn’t last longer. It was wrong, so wrong, and it felt so good, made it so much better.

  “Fuck,” I gasped, “Oh, fuck, Luca.”

  He didn’t speak, didn’t stop. His hands gripped my ass and hips, holding me tight and still. I leaned back, grabbed the top of the couch, my body tensing, beginning to tremble, to shake, as pleasure washed over me, ballooned through me. I gasped, staccato and incredible, as the orgasm swelled through me in an intense burst of pure ecstasy.

  I released, god, yes, I released and he seemed greedy for it, lapping me up, licking me through it, sucking my lip and making me laugh like an idiot. I was flushed, sweating, and when the orgasm slowly began to fade, he pulled back and looked at me, a smirk on his gorgeous lips.

  I leaned down and kissed him. I tasted myself on his tongue and didn’t care.

  He stood, kissed me back, and held me tight for a long moment.

  “There,” he said, kissed me one more time, and left my room.

  I sat there, head swimming, body flushed, breathing hard. I’d never come like that before in my life, never had a man get me off with such ease.

  I wanted to call him back. Wanted to beg him to take me, or at least to wrap his muscular arms around me and hold me tight.

  Instead, I flopped back on the bed and stared up at the gauzy curtains that hung at the top of the four posts, crowning the frame, and wondered how I’d come so far.

  16

  Luca

  I woke up with the girl’s taste still on my tongue and couldn’t shake it. I used the bathroom, showered off, put on fresh clothes, and was about to step out into the hall to explore our little wing of the Don’s absurd mansion when the small black phone next to my oversized bed began to chirp.

  I paused for just a second before picking up. “Yeah?” I asked.

  “Good morning, Luca,” the voice said. It was feminine, a little bit older, thick Philly accent. “Don wants to speak with you.”

  “Yeah, right, sure. I can do that. Who, uh, who is this?”

  “My name is Eunice,” she said. “I run the Don’s household.”

  “I thought that’s what Roberto did.”

  She didn’t sound amused. “I’m sure he thinks that. Please make your way to his study. Out the door at the far end of your hall, take the first stairs you find, then turn right. His door will be at the end of that hall.”

  “Got it,” I said and hung up.

  I followed Eunice’s directions, headed down the hall, took the stairs, turned right, and ended up outside a pair of double doors that I recognized from previous visits to the Don’s house. I hesitated, not sure what to do, then decided to knock a few times.

  I heard a muffled sound from inside and cracked the door open.

  “Don, sir?” I asked.

  “Come on, come inside.”

  I stepped in, closing the door behind me. Don Leone sat at a table on the right, what was usually a card table covered in green felt, but was currently covered by a flat, polished slab of hardwood. There was a plate of eggs and toast in front of him, along with a gleaming silver carafe, a steaming mug of coffee, and half a grapefruit. He gestured at the chair across from him.

  “Sit,” he said. “Eat.”

  I walked over, pulled out the chair, sat down. The plate in front of me was covered by a silver dome, which I removed and placed on the floor. I had an identical meal in front of me, except mine included bacon. I caught the Don eyeing my bacon with a hungry stare, but he quickly looked away.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you, Don Leone,” I said. “I really appreciate you letting me bring Clair and her mother here.”

  The Don waved a hand in the air. “No problem at all,” he said. “I have the room to spare. Truth is, I should’ve had them here sooner, but I’ll admit to being a little selfish. I knew Clair’s mother would give me trouble, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.”

  “I’ve met the woman, sir, and I can understand your reluctance.”

  He smiled at that, speared a chunk of grapefruit, tossed it into his wet mouth. He chewed and narrowed his eyes at me, brandishing his thin silver fork.

  “I understand you’ve been busy,” he said, “that you had a very eventful night.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “Although one of ours got hit. Do you know if he’s okay?”

  “Steven checked in a half hour ago,” Don Leone said. “Asked about you. Said to inform you that Alex is doing fine.”

  I nodded, relieved. I was afraid that wound was worse than it looked. “That’s good news.”

  “I suppose it is.” The Don looked at me for a moment, speared more grapefruit, ate it. “I need to ask you something, Luca. Something important, and you need to swear you’ll be honest.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Do you trust Clair’s mother?”

  I frowned at the question, not sure how to answer. I stalled by flipping over an overturned mug and filling it with coffee. When I finished, I took a long sip, then nodded my head.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “That
was a very long pause,” he said.

  “I had to consider it,” I said. “Because I don’t know her very well.”

  He nodded slowly. “Prudent. And why did you eventually decide the way that you did?”

  “Because she’s Clair’s mother,” I said. “And she clearly cares about her. Even if she’s difficult and she hates the family, I don’t think she’ll do anything that goes against Clair’s best interests.”

  “So long as our interests align with Clair’s, then we will be okay in her eyes,” Don Leone said.

  “That’s right, sir,” I said. “That’s my assumption, at least.”

  “Interesting.” He cleared his throat, looked at the grapefruit, made a face. “You know, I hate this stuff.”

  “Really?” I asked. “Why do you eat it then?”

  “I’m told it’s… healthy.” He sighed, speared a chunk, ate it. “Any fruit that requires you to add sugar in order to make it palatable is suspect at best in my eyes.”

  “You know it isn’t healthy anymore once you add the sugar to it.”

  He gave me a flat look. “I’m aware.”

  I opened my mouth then closed it again and took another sip of my coffee. The bacon and eggs went untouched in front me, though I did pick up and bite a piece of dry toast, just to have something to do with my hands.

  “Luca, I’m going to be honest with you,” Don Leone said after an excruciatingly long and uncomfortable silence. “I have some concerns about Clair.”

  “What concerns are those, Don?” I asked.

  “I worry about her longevity,” he said. “I worry that she won’t be able to see this thing through.”

  “She’s tougher than she seems,” I said.

  “If she’s anything like her mother, I assume she despises everything we stand for.”

  “She does,” I said. “I can’t deny that. She hates violence and grew up hearing horror stories about the mafia from her mother, so she’s more than a little inclined to hate everything about our organization.”

  “So then why do you think she’ll stick through it all?”