It was his and his alone, built from the ground up, his soul poured into it, just as his wife had suggested.
"Come on," Celia said, pulling out of his arms, a sparkle of excitement in her eyes. "Show me the inside."
"You don't want to wait for the others?"
"Nope."
Corrado pulled the keys from his pocket, shifting through them until he found the one for the main entrance. The door was steel reinforced, top of the line in security. He had done everything imaginable to make the place secure, to thwart break-in's and vandalism, even making the glass shatter-resistant.
Unlocking the door, he moved aside, motioning for her to go ahead of him. She paused in the dark walkway as he turned off the alarm and flicked the row of switches, one-by-one flipping on the lights. Celia looked around, her eyes wide with intrigue as she studied the place in the dim lighting. Everything was dark and wooden with deep red trim. Four tiers of shelves lined the mirrored wall behind the long bar, stacked with hundreds of bottles of the finest liquor and spirits, glowing red spotlights shining above them.
Dozens of booths and tables took up the back half of the building, the atmosphere darker the further back you walked. The vast area between the tables and the bar was wide open, the waxed floor sparkling beneath twinkling spotlights.
Celia gasped as she walked out onto the gold-tinted dance floor, her high heels clicking against the wood. She held her arms out and spun in circles, smiling radiantly as she gazed up at the lights. Her red dress, skin-tight on her chest but flowing from her waist, stopping near her knees, stood out strikingly as she twirled. "This is beautiful. Who knew you had it in you?"
Corrado stepped behind the bar and grabbed two small glasses. He poured vodka in both, adding a splash of cola to Celia's, before holding it out to her. She took the drink, shoving a stool out of the way as she climbed up on the black marble bar. Corrado shook his head, grinning, but said nothing as she made herself at home on top of it, her heels digging into the leather stool seat.
She sipped her drink, glancing around some more, as Corrado stepped out from the bar. He strode over to the Compact Disc jukebox along the edge of the room, gold and red with wooden paneling to match the rest of the club. There would be a DJ on staff most nights and occasionally live music, courtesy of the piano in the far back, but it was all he had then. He fed coins into the slot, choosing the same song for every selection: Luna Rossa.
Celia's eyes widened when Frank Sinatra's voice crooned from the speakers. "How'd you get this on CD?"
"I have my ways," he said. "There's nothing in this world I can't get."
"Huh." She shifted around on the bar to face him. "Nothing?"
"Nothing," he stressed, stopping right in front of her. He threw back the last of his liquor, feeling the burn in his chest as he set the empty glass down on the bar beside her. "If I want it bad enough, it's mine."
Sipping the last of her drink, she set her glass down beside his. A devilish smirk lifted the corner of her red lips. "Does that include me?"
"Especially you."
Corrado shoved his way between the two stools, stepping between her legs. He laid his hands on her knees and ran them up her thighs, pushing her dress the whole way up to her waist as her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers running through the hair at the nape.
"I always want it, Celia," he said, his voice low and gritty, his words earnest. "I always want you."
Grasping the sides of her panties, he tugged, sliding them over the curve of her ass and down her thighs when she lifted off the bar. He threw them to the floor before yanking her closer to the edge of the bar. One hand slid up her inner thigh, her legs spreading for him, as his other hand gripped the back of her neck and pulled her face toward him. He kissed her hard, passionately, as he stroked her center, his thumb grazing her clitoris.
She was already ready for him.
Her breath caught as he pushed two fingers inside her, curving them upward, reaching for that spot he knew would drive her wild. He pumped them in and out, teasing her. His mouth moved from hers to her neck, his lips trailing along her collarbones, his teeth nipping at the hint of breast. She shivered, her hands gripping his hair as he bent down, his head dipping beneath her dress.
"Oh, fuck!" she gasped, the curse cracking as it lodged in her throat when his mouth came into contact with her sensitive flesh. He tasted her, licking and sucking, his fingers over and over grazing her sweet spots, as she writhed on the bar, leaning back on her elbows. Whimpers tore from her throat, louder and louder, as he brought her closer to climax.
It hit her hard, muscles seizing up, body going rigid seconds before the convulsions. She cried out, tossing her head back and nearly throwing herself right off the back of the bar. Corrado grabbed her just in time, standing up straight with surprise as she let out a sharp laugh. "That would've hurt."
"It would've," he agreed, letting go of her once she was steady. His hands went straight for his belt, the buckle clanging as he unfastened it.
Celia arched an eyebrow. "Not done yet?"
"I'm just getting started."
He unbuttoned his pants and reached into his boxers, grasping a hold of himself. His erection throbbed in his palm when he pulled it out, stroking a few times with his left hand as he grabbed her with his right. A startled yelp escaped her when he yanked her off the bar, pinning her back against the vinyl padding along the edge. She wrapped herself around him, her legs around his waist, her arms circling his neck.
He thrust hard, eliciting a hiss from Celia as he banged her back against the bar. "This might hurt, too."
"I hope so," she teased, holding on to him.
Perching her there, he pounded into her, her body wrapped around his. The pointy heels of her shoes dug into his ass like tiny daggers, the sharp stabs of pain spurring him on. He gave her all of himself, thrusting so hard she gasped loudly, the breath knocked from her lungs. Tingles shot down Corrado's spine as pressure built inside of him, the sounds of wet slapping skin mingling with the sultry music. He panted, gripping her hips, his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the spicy combination of her perfume and her natural aroma, as he slammed against her a few times.
His orgasm hit, so strong he grunted, biting down on the skin along her shoulder blade as he spilled inside of her.
He stilled his movements, pinning her against the bar as he caught his breath. Celia ran her hands up his back, beneath his suit coat, and laughed when she grasped his gun, still tucked in place.
"You are so full of sin," she whispered against his skin.
Kissing her once, he set her on her feet and took a step back, smiling as she tugged her dress down. Her cheeks were rosy, her hair tousled. The imprint of his bite mark gleamed just north of her right collarbone, brighter than the flush of her skin.
Before he could point it out to her, bright sunshine streamed through the walkway into the club from outside as the door open. High-pitched cheery voices met his ears, the sound spurring Celia into a panic. Cursing, she shoved past him, frantically smoothing her dress and toying with her hair as she stepped that direction.
Corrado fixed his pants, tucking his shirt back in, and was securing his belt when Vincent appeared. Always intuitive, Vincent froze, his eyes wide as he snatched a hold of the waist-high little boys and pushed them behind him.
"Really, guys?" Vincent looked between Corrado and Celia. "You couldn't wait?"
Celia's cheeks burned brighter as she avoided the question, instead focusing on the boys. Vincent's eyes turned from her to Corrado. He finished situating his shirt before reaching down and snatching Celia's black silk panties from the floor, shoving them in his pocket with a slight shrug.
Did he expect him to apologize? He had no regrets. None at all.
"If it wasn't my sister, I might give you kudos," Vincent said, approaching him at the bar as Celia took off with Dominic and Carmine in tow, giving the excited boys a tour. "Nice place."
"Thanks," Corrado said.
"No Maura?"
Vincent was silent, giving Corrado the only answer he needed.
No Maura.
"It's not you," Vincent said. "It's just, you know… everyone else."
Corrado knew. Despite what Vincent said, it was him. Maybe not only him, but still… him. He turned away from his brother-in-law, watching as Dominic shrieked, tearing across the dance floor, his pale skin glowing white beneath the lights. "Yet you brought the kids."
"Yes."
"To a bar."
Vincent cut his eyes at him. "Judgment is the last thing you should be dishing out after what I can only imagine you just did to my poor sister on that bar."
"Not judging," Corrado said, slapping Vincent on the back and pulling him closer as he whispered, "and I fucked her so hard she could barely breathe."
"Ugh, disgusting!" Vincent shoved away from Corrado as he laughed. Corrado strode across the room as more sunlight filtered in, voices carrying through. "Jesus, what's gotten into you today?"
Corrado shrugged, turning to look at Vincent, taking a few steps backward as he replied, "I'm happy."
Vincent raised his eyebrows before addressing Celia. "Has that ever happened before?"
"What?" she asked.
"Your husband being happy."
She nearly lost her balance as Carmine wrapped himself around her waist. "Maybe once or twice."
Corrado turned away from them, glancing toward the entrance as a mass of guests emerged. Antonio and Gia; Salvatore; Sonny and his wife; Manny and his family… more kids.
Corrado welcomed his bosses personally. Nothing would ruin the high he felt tonight, nobody would dampen his mood, not even people of the three-feet-high variety.
Manny's kids ran past as Corrado greeted the man and his wife. "Amando," he said, before taking the wife's hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. "Ma'am."
"Where's my hello?" the terse voice asked. He turned, coming face-to-face with Gia. She was dressed flawlessly, as usual, her expression stern.
Corrado reached out and took her hand. She had expected the same greeting as Manny's wife, but instead Corrado pulled her closer and kissed her cheeks. "How's my beautiful mother-in-law tonight?"
Gia's cold demeanor thawed the slightest bit as she raised an eyebrow at him. "Phenomenal, Corrado. How are you?"
"Great."
She patted his cheek. "I can tell."
"Grandpa!" The shrieking voice echoed through the room as soon as Antonio stepped out onto the dance floor. Antonio glanced around, a smile plastered on his face when Carmine shot through the club straight toward him, not slowing down. Antonio reached his arms down as the kid ran into them.
"Ah, there's my boy," Antonio said, pride in his voice as he held little Carmine with one arm. He was small for a six-year-old… or smaller than Dominic, anyway. Dominic ran over, receiving a less warm greeting, but Antonio looked down at him with genuine affection. "Hey, kiddo."
"Hey, grandpa," Dominic said as he hugged his waist.
Antonio patted Dominic's back before setting Carmine on his feet beside his brother. "You two being good for your father?"
"Yes," they both muttered.
He grabbed their chins, tilting their heads up. "Yes what?"
"Yes, sir."
The boys spoke in unison, earning a hearty laugh from Antonio that morphed into a coughing fit. He shook it off, clearing his throat, his voice strained as he said, "good boys."
He ruffled their hair before motioning for them to run off, both boys shrieking as they joined the other kids in a booth near the back of the club.
Others arrived, members of La Cosa Nostra invited with their families, while the staff came on duty for the first time. They had gone through orientation for days after a rigorous round of interviews where Corrado interrogated them and investigated them, making sure every single person he hired was dependable enough to be allowed through his doors. This was his last test… opening night wasn't for another week, but tonight was a trial run. If they carried themselves well in a room full of notorious criminals, they were officially hired.
And everyone who passed this test, who proved themselves to him, would have a job for life, as long as they didn't betray him or do anything to break his trust.
Because trust was something he didn't dish out easily, and if Celia had drilled anything into his head the past few months, it was that he would have to learn to give a little.
"You can't run it all by yourself," she'd said, "although, God knows, you'd damn sure try, wouldn't you?"
Old Rat Pack songs crooned from the speaker system all night long as the alcohol flowed freely. Round after round of shots were poured, two bartenders working hard to keep the drinks going out to the tables, the tip jars on the bar overflowing with wads of cash for their hard work. Energy ran high, people danced, celebrating, toasting, kids playing, while Corrado stood back, watching the whole thing.
Besides the drink he shared with his wife, he hadn't had a drop of alcohol all night.
Celia, on the other hand, was wasted. He kept a close eye on her as she danced, sure no one would be stupid enough to lay an inappropriate hand on her, but once again… trust didn't come easily.
Vincent approached a few hours later, pausing beside him along the edge of the dance floor, near where the kids played some sort of strange Simon Says dancing game. Vincent smiled as Dominic stood dead center, commanding the group.
"He acts the most like a DeMarco," Vincent said, watching them. "And he wasn't even born one."
Corrado surveyed the young boy. No, not a DeMarco… not genetically, anyway. Volkov blood ran through Dominic's veins. They never discussed it, never acknowledged it, but they all knew.
The kids had spent a few nights at his house with Celia, but much like their mother, they tended to keep their distance from Corrado. A learned trait, something not outright taught, but something they picked up intuitively from the world around them.
"It's not all about blood," Corrado said. "He's a DeMarco because he's emulating one."
"But my father barely has anything to do with Dominic."
"Not your father," Corrado said. "You."
"Me?"
Corrado looked at his brother-in-law, seeing skepticism in his eyes. "Don't be so surprised, Vincent. It took me a while to see it, but you're a DeMarco through and through."
He seemed taken aback. "Thanks."
"Don't thank me," Corrado said. "I didn't tell you that to boost your ego."
"Well, it did anyway, so thanks."
Corrado shook his head. "You're welcome."
"Carmine, on the other hand, is all Maura," Vincent said, looking around the club. "I don't even know where he ran off to."
There was no telling with Carmine. The entire La Cosa Nostra world prized the little boy, treating him like royalty, overlooking his obvious detriments… the splash of freckles on his nose and the blazing green eyes that spoke of his Irish blood.
"I'll find him for you," Corrado said, taking a step back from the dance floor. "I should do a round with the guests."
He strode off through the crowd, greeting newcomers, making sure nobody had any problems. He headed toward the back of the club, toward a booth where most of the ruckus came from. Antonio sat in the center, flanked by powerful men on both sides. Cigar smoke hung around the men like a thick, toxic cloud, everyone smoking except for the Boss. He chewed on a toothpick as he surveyed his men.
"You doing okay, sir?" Corrado asked.
Antonio glanced at him, beaming. "Never been better."
Corrado returned his smile as the Boss rubbed his chest. "You need anything?"
"You got any TUMS?" he asked with a grimace. "Got indigestion something fierce."
"I don't have any," Corrado replied, "but I can get you some."
"I'd appreciate it."
He caught a waitress's arm as she headed past. "I need you to run down the block and buy some TUMS."
"Yes, sir."
"And make it fast."
She scurried away as Corrado turned back to the men. "You guys seen Carmine?"
"Ah, my godson!" Sal grinned, a cigar between his lips. "Principe was here a minute ago."
Antonio's expression fell, concern shining through for a few seconds before he flashed another grin, but he hadn't been fast enough for it to escape Corrado's notice. Something was bothering the Boss.
Something to make his well-trained mask slip.
"Thank you," Corrado said, stepping back from the table. He would figure out what that was about later. "I'll find him."
He walked away, only making it a few steps before sharp notes struck his ears, contradictory to the smooth melody of Sinatra playing through the sound system. His gaze darted to the piano in the far back as he headed that way, finding the boy standing behind it in the shadows, his fingers running over the keys. He pressed down on a few black keys, making notes sound out, producing an off-key melody. Corrado paused at the corner beside the piano.
Carmine hadn't noticed him. He was concentrating. Hard.
"What song are you trying to play?"
Carmine snatched his hand away from the piano, backing up like the thing had burst into flames, his green eyes darting straight to Corrado with distress. "Sorry."
Corrado didn't move, not wanting to startle the child and make him flee. "What song was that?"
"I don't know," he said. "It was the black key threes notes."
Corrado cocked his head to the side. He sounded like he knew what he was talking about. "Are you taking piano lessons?"
He nodded enthusiastically.
"Do you know any songs?"
"No."
"Whenever you learn one, we'll have your father bring you here so you can play it for us."
His eyes lit up, the green sparkling. "Okay!"
Corrado motioned toward the dance floor. "Your father's looking for you. Go to him."
"Yes, sir."
Carmine ran off through the crowd with Corrado a few steps behind him. He stepped out onto the dance floor, hearing his wife's manic giggling, and found her just in time to see her stumble in her high heels. He grabbed her, pulling her into his arms. "Whoa there, Bellissima."
She wrapped her arms around his neck. "You're handsome."
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