“Not today,” I lied with a slight half-smile, “although I'm considering giving them each a call.” I held up the phone he'd given me that morning. “Should I use this one or start fresh again?”
“Keep that one,” Vinny said, forgoing a plate and popping one of the small sandwiches into his mouth. Renata was giving him a dirty look from the direction of the kitchen, but he pretended not to notice. Vincent was used to dealing with my aunt, Giuliana, and she was as tough as they came. “We'll exchange at breakfast as usual.” He waved a hand loosely in my direction. “Too many rules and this vecchio gets confused.”
He tossed me an easy wink, grabbed a handful of tea sandwiches and headed back toward the office. I watched him go, wondering what I'd do if my father's righthand man turned out to be the traitor.
That betrayal, it could topple the whole house of cards.
I just prayed that my intuition was right on this one.
Once I was safely ensconced in my bedroom with a slice of Renata's cherry-chocolate cake, a glass—and a bottle—of red wine as well as some flannel pajamas that I was entirely certain Vera would not fucking approve of, I called Marcell.
“Buonasera,” he breathed, purred, melted into the phone. I was glad I'd decided against video chatting with this man. His voice was enough to burn my panties to ash, but that face? Those tattoos? It was too much.
“Good evening,” I responded in English, taking a sip of my wine and swishing the fruity taste around on my tongue for a moment. I was currently using my personal cell phone, the one I wasn't supposed to have. Once I was done having real conversations with these men, I'd use the other one, the one Vinny had given me and I'd call them again.
The men seemed to be onboard with this plan, testing my father's consigliere like this. I mean, I knew he'd listen into my conversations, but what he'd actually do with the information was the part I was curious about. Since Caj neither confirmed nor denied that I was right to be suspicious of Vincent Gotti, I was going forward with my plan.
Besides, I didn't exactly trust Caj, Marcell, or Lucky either. The strange thing was that they seemed to trust each other.
I didn't know what to make of that.
“Please tell me you're ensconced in a silken nightie, your fingers playing between your thighs,” Marcell began as I stared at myself in the mirror over my vanity. I looked small in it, sitting across the room on that giant bed, clothed in flannel pajamas the color of my mother's lilacs. I felt anything but though …
Small? No. Fuck small. For the first time in a long time, there was that sense of danger and mystery in the air. I hadn't known until that moment how much I'd missed it.
“What do you think gives you the right to speak to me like that, Mr. Moran?” I responded, continuing to sip my wine, staring into the deep earthy brown of my own eyes in the mirror. “We're virtual strangers. Worse than that, really, since you're the son of one of my father's rivals.”
“Is that how it is now?” he said, the sound of liquid hitting glass clear in the background of our conversation. A moment later, I could hear him swallowing and the sound made me a hell of a lot more excited than it should've. “First I'm a vampire and now I'm a stranger? Bellezza, I'm so hurt.” Marcell took another drink as I closed my eyes and tried to imagine his throat working to swallow … that beautiful, beautiful throat …
“Having sex once with me doesn't elevate your status,” I told him, leaning back into the pillows and enjoying the mountain of down and satin behind me. Bo hadn't been a fan of extra pillows on the bed, preferring to keep a single bamboo pillow for each of us. I'd let it go because I hadn't thought it'd mattered.
It did.
Chewing my lower lip, I tried my best not to think about my ex. I'd picked him for all the wrong reasons, but that was only now becoming apparent to me. Not that I thought the three new men in my life were any better. They were, in fact, a million times worse, just in the opposite direction.
“For all I know, you could be in league with Caj and Lucky. For all that I know personally, all three of you could be working against my family.”
“Ah dolcezza, ma che sbaglio sarebbe, non pensi?” he asked, the beautiful cadence of his Italian accent giving me the chills. I wanted to hear dirty words murmured in my ear while his hot, hard body pressed me into the sheets … Ah, sweet thing, but what a mistake that would be, he'd said.
Forcing myself to take another sip of wine, I closed my eyes.
“I thought our little display at the winery would've proved the level of my dedication,” Marcell continued, his voice still a liquid purr.
Keeping my eyes closed, I called up the memory of Marcell fucking me against the brick wall. As if that was a chore for any of them … Even sharing me, it wasn't enough to prove anything, not really. I might have said that, but it was wine, lust, and hurt feelings fueling me that night. Right now, I was only one glass in and as clearheaded as I'd ever be.
“Pick me up tomorrow morning,” I said, finally opening my eyes. “And bring the other two with you; we're going into the city.”
“Are we now?” he asked me, like he was half-amused and half-offended that I thought I had the right to boss him around.
“I'm going to call you from a different number. I want you to ask me to lunch and then subtly hint that you'd like to see the inner workings of my father's operation.” I tapped my nails against the side of the wine glass. Based on what little information I'd been able to glean from bits and pieces of overheard gossip and from the three men that afternoon, the cartel had been hitting the shipping yards particularly hard. The Costello family had even lost one of our warehouses down by the docks.
It was risky to head down there; it was dangerous.
If Vincent were interested in getting rid of me, this would give him the perfect opportunity to do it. The sloppy siege on the winery had been a test; the next attack that came would be an assault.
“I'll call Caj and Lucky and invite them myself.”
“What are you up to over there, bellezza?” Marcell mused, but I was already hanging up and setting my wine glass aside.
I felt heat taking over my body in a shimmering wave; it needed to be satisfied.
Now.
And then I'd call the men with Vinny's phone.
Dropping my hand beneath the waistband of my flannel pajamas, I touched myself and thought of those tattooed hands, that dark face, and wondered how amused Mr. Moran would be to see that his suggestion had actually taken root.
As soon as I closed my eyes, I could see them, all three of them. And as my fingers danced an ancient rhythm on my swollen cunt, I imagined Lucky's mouth at my neck, his hands sliding up the curves of my body. Caj I pictured in the corner, watching, waiting for his chance to strike. And Marcell, it was in his lap that I sat, his hands cupping my breasts from behind, kneading the tender flesh and flicking his thumbs across my nipples until I cried out.
The longer I went, the more intense the build of my orgasm became, coiling in my lower back like a snake ready to strike, a serpent making a nest of pleasure.
“Again,” I told them in that dream state, “take me again.” Because I wanted all three of them touching, kissing, worshipping, fucking me. I needed to feel their power meld with my own, mix and strengthen, amplify. There was nothing so satisfying to me as bedding powerful men and playing that exchange like a harp. Sometimes, it was me who plucked a sharp note. Other times, it was them.
In my dream, I let them play with me, tease me, dominate me.
And I loved it.
At the same time, I knew in real life, I'd love to dominate them.
Biting my lower lip hard, I pushed three fingers inside the wet heat between my legs and came with a violent gasp, shuddering and clamping down around my own hand as I writhed in the sheets and let my brain summon thoughts of Lucky's hips pumping into me, Marcell's tongue on my throat, and Caj's jade eyes sparkling with mischief.
As soon as I was finished, I took a breather, called the
boys, and then collapsed into a night of vivid dreams, six hours filled with men who some might call … nightmares.
But for me, they were pure fucking fantasy.
After a night of carnal dreams, I felt tired, sweaty, and completely unprepared for Vincent to come bursting into my room before I was even dressed.
“You're not going to the docks,” he told me, gesturing wildly and snatching the cell phone off my vanity. Vinny's dark gray fedora was skewed on his head and he looked like he wanted to slap somebody—possibly me. “Are you a crazy Lazy?” he asked me, his New York-Italian accent thickening with his anger. “Why you wanna go down there anyhow?”
“If I'm being groomed to take over the family, then I think I need to see its inner workings,” I told him calmly, folding my arms across my flannel top and trying not to feel ridiculous. Hmm. If I were wearing a black silk nightgown like my mother … like fucking Vera … I'd probably feel more equipped to handle this situation. As things stood, I just sort of felt ridiculous.
“All you need to do is court those assholes and make them want you—period. That's your job. You don't need to be following danger like a bloodhound with the scent, tesoro.”
“What I need to be doing is getting dressed for my lunch engagement. I was planning on informing you of my plans downstairs, but apparently you already know,” I said, putting accusation into my voice that wasn't entirely faked. It was one thing to be aware of Vinny's spying and another to see proof of it. “Now, next time you want to come into my room, you'll knock.”
In the hierarchy of the family, Vincent was technically above me—especially if my father had given him permission … or orders … to look out for me. But if there was one thing the men in this family understood, it was respect.
Bursting into a lady's bedroom without knocking was rude.
“You can speak to Carlo about my plans,” I said, turning away and pointedly heading for the closet. I was going to take a few cues from my father's mistress and her seemingly impeccable fashion sense, but I was also determined to dress myself this morning. A fancy evening gown would not suit me down at the docks. “Assuming you haven't already.”
“Your job is to marry the Big Four together, passerotto,” Vincent said softly, his voice verging on affectionate. It could be an act. We'd see how the rest of the day went. Well, I would anyway. My father would never let the other men see the real center of his overseas shipping operations until they'd proven themselves in one way or another … like marrying his only daughter for example.
But I'd still go.
I'd go and I'd be alone.
The boys would think I was at the main shipping dock, affectionately nicknamed the Costello Crime Lab by my father's crews. And Vincent would know for sure I was at the smaller operation two miles away—the real beating heart of the mafia's inner workings.
Divide and conquer.
One test for the men and another for Vincent.
“You're too special to waste on all this shit,” he continued as I selected a black jumpsuit and glanced over my shoulder with a raised brow. Vinny didn't have any kids of his own, but I'd always felt like an honorary daughter of his. Of course, that wouldn't stop him from putting a bullet in my head if need be, but I was used to my own father being capable of that. It didn't phase me much. “Let's find this fucking spia and then you can go back to rescuing animals.”
I turned around fully, taking the jumpsuit with me, and leveled an even look on Vinny's face. I couldn't decide if he was being a dick … or if he was just concerned for me. Either way, I didn't need his worry.
“If you'll excuse me so I can change?” I began, realizing how quickly I'd slipped into old habits. In just a few days, I'd gone from being wary of Vincent to … telling him what to do.
Yep.
I knew it.
Almost a decade of trying to hide it … my switch had been flipped.
The lights were off.
And the darkness was everywhere.
Vinny started cursing under his breath in Italian, but he left the room, slamming the door behind him, leaving me alone with my demons.
The scariest part was … I wasn't at all afraid of them.
The SUV pulled up about fifteen minutes later.
I was waiting on the porch, my purse on one arm, a revolver and a brand-new cell phone inside. The other, my personal one, was still tucked into the tampon box. But Vinny was smart—I wouldn't be able to use that trick forever. Eventually, I'd have to find a new way to hide it. Box of condoms then? Seemed appropriate, considering my primary 'mission'.
“Good morning, Miss Costello,” the driver, Mr. Masseria, said as he stepped out and held open the back door for me.
“Buongiorno,” I said as I moved down the steps and climbed into the shadows of the backseat. Tinted windows were a must in mafia conveys. “Boys,” I said, because even though I was well aware of the fact that they were men, I hoped it humbled them a little. There were three of them after all and only one of me.
“Ah-dee-lah-sa,” Marcell purred from the back row, lounging with a drink in one hand and a wicked smirk teasing the sinfully hot slash of his mouth.
“Lazy,” Lucky said from the front seat, glancing over his shoulder with a more genuine sort of smile.
I found myself sitting next to Caj. He was leaning against the door on the opposite side of the vehicle, red hair falling across his brow, mouth set in a bemused sort of expression. He tapped at one of his diamond lip piercings with a finger.
“What should I call you?” he asked, studying me with those jade eyes that'd gotten me into so much trouble in the past. Caj leaned forward, so close that I could smell him, that sharp floral scent that was uniquely his, like a flower with thorns. So pretty to look at, so dangerous to touch.
“How about my name?” I said, but Caj just waved his hand dismissively.
“Can I get you a drink, bellezza?” Marcell interrupted, his breath stirring my hair and making me shiver. I didn't bother to glance back at him. I knew that if I did, our faces would be too close.
“Yes, please,” I said, trying to pretend like I had my shit together. “Something strong,” I added, flicking a quick glance Lucky's way, finding that he was still watching me as Mr. Masseria climbed back into the driver's seat and shut the door.
My plan was to take the boys to the first warehouse, lose them by heading into the bathroom, and then take another car—one I'd had Vinny arrange with my father just a few short minutes ago—to the real heart of the Costello family's seafaring operations.
“Of course, Adelasia,” he replied, the word rolling off his tongue like a caress. God. I wanted more of that, all over my damn body. I wanted to see what Marcell could do with more time and a comfortable bed. As it stood, he'd impressed me at the winery. Oh, yes, he'd impressed me very, very much.
“Your name,” Caj continued with a small snort as the Bentley pulled forward and out of the driveway. “But Marcell says it with such … flair.” He waved his hand around in the air again, his rings catching small beams of sunlight that managed to filter in through the tinted windows. “How about … Adi?”
“If you call me Adi, I won't answer,” I told him, running my tongue across my lower lip. I didn't mean for it to happen, but my body had other ideas. Just sitting inside this enclosed space, I was starting to sweat.
“Then I'll think nice and long and hard for the perfect name,” he told me, voice dripping with innuendo as he folded his hands behind his head and flicked his own tongue across his lip. “Something you will respond to.” Caj's fox eyes danced gleefully, full of mischief and danger and sex. I wanted it all, all three things. “Something you'll scream for.”
“That's quite enough of that,” Marcell interjected, reaching over the seat to hand me a beautiful glass tumbler full of amber liquid. “Have some manners, Mr. Bellincioni. You are inside my vehicle.”
Caj just smirked and let his gaze rake over me, taking in the black strappy heels, the way the jumpsuit clung to
my hips and breasts, the long sleeves. Underneath, I had a very thin bulletproof vest on, something that was hidden by the silk lines of my outfit, the ribbon at my neck adding extra texture. And then, of course, there was the keyhole cutout on my chest which showed off a nice line of cleavage. I was hoping the men would look there instead of at the faint lines of the Kevlar. Although I was probably fooling myself—I was sure they'd noticed.
“Your diamonds are quite beautiful,” Marcell said, noticing the way I stiffened up when our fingers connected. Hot heat rushed through me, violent and blinding, like a curse cast on me by a wicked magician, tempting me to the wrong sort of fate. “Like frost on an autumn morning …”
“That's quite a line,” Lucky said, and when I glanced back at him, I saw his gaze trained out the front window, his hands sitting in his lap like he was relaxed. He was anything but. There was a tenseness to him that made me curious, a stiffness in his shoulders and fingers that drew out the fine veins in his knuckles.
Hmm.
“I specialize in them,” Marcell said and when I finally did risk looking back at him, I saw that his teeth were white in his olive skinned face, a big wolfy grin that, paired with the suit and the tattoos, certainly painted a frightening enough picture.
“Duly noted,” I said as I took a sip of my drink and found a nice, single malt Scotch that probably cost a fortune. Like I said, definite bonus of being back in the fold was all the free food and drink—it was premium level stuff. “You feed lines to all your dates, not just me.”
“Oh, you're more than just a date,” Marcell said, and I noticed Lucky stiffen up a bit more.
Ah.
For a second there, I'd wondered if he was nervous about our visit to the docks, if he had something planned.
Lavish: A Reverse Harem Miniseries (Mafia Queen Book 2) Page 3