Under the Influence: A Second Chance Mafia Romance

by Nikki Belaire

  "Anything else Mr. T?"

  I nod, and he grabs his pad of paper. Ready to satisfy my request regardless of what I demand. Unaware it's actually his lucky day. Christmas comes early for him this year. "You know those girls who were practically fucking each other next to me?"

  His head bobs, and his hand clenches tighter around the pencil. Probably forcing himself to keep his fingers from curling around his hardening cock. "Yeah sure. Who could miss them?"

  A smug and cocky smirk curls my lips. Not betraying the shit ass guilt killing me inside. "They're looking to party, but I got something I've got to do first so I was hoping you could keep them company for me. You interested?"

  Desire battles with confusion on his face. His thumb stroking over the stud in his lip trying to figure out why I'd pass on such a spectacular opportunity. Or maybe wondering why I'd even consider a ménage when I have a woman like Chryseis on my arm. My chest pulls tighter. The other part of my asshole plan to broadcast she's not mine anymore. And pretend I'm fucking thrilled about her departure.

  He finally smiles. The realization sinking in his thick head from the fucking amazing gift I’m giving him. That he’d be a complete and total dumb ass not to accept. "Yeah definitely, man. I’m in."

  Thank fuck. As easy as I hoped. "Then come on to my office."

  "Yes sir."

  Leaving him for a moment to settle up with his co-workers from his new order from the boss, I stride through the crowd and down the stairs. Each fucking step closer ensuring her devastation and my crucifixion.

  Tucker's deep voice vibrates from the other side of the heavy, wooden door. Murmurs of soft feminine words I can't decipher blend with his. Breathy with nervous anticipation. That fall silent when I step inside.

  The aggressive blond, with half her ass hanging out of her lavender booty shorts, sashays up to me. Tugging my tie with a confident smirk that does exactly nothing for me or my bored dick. But I lie for both of us. “Do you want to play, baby girl?”

  An excited shudder jolts her body. She leans closer, brushing torpedoed nipples against my chest. Engulfing me with a heavy dousing of spicy perfume. “I want to do anything you want me to Daddy.”

  Jesus. Only a slight slur to her answer. Drunk and high. Perfect since she’ll be less likely to argue when she finds out it won’t be me fucking her.

  “I like to watch.” I gesture to the girl in the zebra dress, swaying next to my desk. Floating even higher than her bestie. “Why don’t you let me see how fucked up the two of you really can be?”

  Her glassy eyes light up. Huge pupils dilating even more. “Yes sir.”

  Only a few inches shorter than me, she lifts on her tiptoes. Strange overly-plump lips hovering too close to mine. I refuse to let this scheme get that far. Instead, I spin her around and growl in her ear. “Show me first.”

  Earning me another convulsion and ass grind against my disinterested cock before she strides to the girl already leaning backward, shoving the papers off the smooth glass top. The sheets billowing like feathers before slowly drifting to the carpet.

  “Open for me, baby.”

  Guess we know who the boss is in their relationship. The auburn-haired girl eagerly follows the command and sprawls out completely. Already jerking aside her panties and moaning as she fingers herself in anticipation while her platinum friend caresses her thighs.

  Unbelievable. I've got fucking porn live in my office. Most men would be in fucking heaven. When all I want is the woman I no longer can have.

  “Fuuuuuck....”

  Zach’s shocked tone blows out behind me. Perfect. I twist around and wink at him. “You’re welcome.”

  All he can do is nod. Unable to tear his greedy eyes away from the girl writhing in ecstasy from being eaten out only ten feet in front of him. “She’s all yours.”

  Without a word he somehow manages to walk, yank a condom out of his back pocket, and unbuckle his belt. Caressing over her hips, he accepts her hand flying backward and grabbing his cock as approval to proceed. In a few short seconds, he’s wrapped and thrusting. He fucks blondie, while she fucks red. I catch Tucker’s disgusted expression above the orgy. What in the actual fuck? People really are filthy.

  My gut churns from the knock in the hallway. Time for the real performance to begin. I suck in a deep breath. Please forgive me, angel.

  I slide open the door, keeping the gap narrow. Pretending to try and block Chryseis’ view. Scarlet races up her neck to her forehead as she takes in the orgy playing out behind us.

  “Gio?”

  More of my soul dies from her astonished whisper. But I play the part so god damn well I’ll win a fucking Oscar. Slowly gliding to her with a playful smile on my lips. “Something’s come up babe. Tucker’s going to take you home.”

  I meet her confused gaze. My phony term of endearment and brusque tone triggering even more worry on her beautiful face.

  “What’s going on?”

  I love you and hurting you is fucking killing me. “Nothing. I’ve just got something I have to take care of.”

  Tucker clicks the knob, shutting out the smacking skin and sloppy sucking noises. Fucking relief of silence until Chryseis murmurs again.

  "I don't..." She’s not blind or stupid. Just shocked. “I don’t understand. I–”

  “Nothing to understand except that you’re leaving, okay?”

  I don’t ever talk to her like this. Never speaking to her like she means nothing to me. As if she's a fucking annoyance rather than the only person who brings goodness into my world. Happiness into my life.

  Appalled by all of our behavior although not enough to keep her from fighting back, she attempts to twist away from my tight grip on her bicep, the small muscle trembling under my fingers.

  “What’s really going on?” She glances back over her shoulder as I try to steer her down the corridor. “That’s not you. You’re not…”

  "Not what?" I force irritation into my voice. Showing her the asshole I've been hiding from her all along. "Damn Chryseis. How the fuck do you know what I am? We date for a few months, and now you think you're a fucking expert on me or something?"

  Outrage from my cruel words stiffens her body. Small fingers clenching as she studies me. Penetrating the blackness engulfing my heart with her intense gaze. That breaks with every breath she pants in shame.

  Unable to keep quiet, I berate her more. Fearful I'll cave in the silence. That I'll utter the words I really want to say instead of the bullshit I'm forced to utter.

  "You hearing this Tuck?" Snickering at him while he leans against the wall. Casual and unconcerned. "I let her suck my dick a few times and now she thinks she knows me."

  His humorless chuckle answers me back. Which is good because I'd be furious if he ganged up on her too. As stupid fucked up as I am over losing her, I'd still have to defend my girl.

  Seconds pass in stillness except for the faint thudding of the bass from upstairs. But the beat has nothing on the pounding of my head and chest. Witnessing her struggle not to break. To not crumble under the abuse I dole out.

  The lines on her forehead finally smooth with a realization and her quivering lips part. "Is this charade because I invited you to my cousin's wedding? You think I'm pressuring you for a commitment already?"

  My Books. So eloquent and well-spoken despite her mortification. I cup the tiny box in my pocket. There's nothing I want more than to make her mine. But, yeah, let's go with that. If that's her rationale for my irrational behavior, I won't dispute the accuracy of her assumption. "You're suffocating me babe. I mean you think I want to spend a weekend with your family? Or fucking have dinner with your parents all the time? I don't need that shit." I lean closer. Near enough to see the tears glistening on her thick lashes. "I don't want that shit. Especially with a woman like you."

  Humiliation drowns her indignation, and her body droops. Now my insults are personal. It's not me. It's her.

  "What's that supposed to mean? A woman like me?"
<
br />   “You're a fucking librarian. Excited about getting a job at a fucking library for fuck's sake. Big deal it's with a university. Fucking pathetic how lame that is. I need more than that. I need more than you.”

  Too stunned to speak, she doesn't react. Doesn’t do anything but cover her gasping mouth with trembling hands. So I take matters into mine. Because I can't do this anymore. I can't degrade her any longer.

  Abrupt and impatient, I guide her through the club. Taking the long way up the stairs and across the jammed dance floor. Bodies parting from my purposeful steps. Garnering attention from the watery trails streaming down her beautiful face and dropping off her chin. Letting everyone witness the spectacle of me dumping her.

  Once outside, we bypass the cab line of course, and I steer her to the front. A parade of embarrassment for everyone to watch. Whisper about. Immortalize with the phones popping up and tracking our path. I’m as fucking popular as fucking Justin Bieber.

  “Gio? Please? Tell me what's really going on?”

  One last plea as the valet pulls open the yellow door, and I usher her inside. Her gaze never leaving mine while she drops into the backseat. Seeking to comprehend something that she never expected. Or deserved. “It was a great ride babe. But it’s over now.”

  With a smug ass smirk, I yank out my wallet and dig through the bills, tossing a few hundreds to the driver. “Take her anywhere she wants to go.” I wink like the bastard I am. “Except my place.”

  Stepping onto the sidewalk, I laugh. Loud and harsh and obnoxious. I nod to my bouncer, who joins in amusement he doesn’t understand but appreciates just the same. Too fearful to respond any other way except in support of my bastard antics.

  “Good one Mr. Trivoli.”

  I pat his thick shoulder and stride back inside, never glancing back. A big, fat, stupid, fake smile slapped on my face. Alone. Happy. Relaxed. Head bobs and chest thumps to all the witnesses. Pretending to be thrilled I'm finally free of her. Only surviving by consoling myself that she's finally free of the danger I put her in.

  I also need to be free of my sobriety. Unable to deal with the crowd at the bar, I head straight toward my office for my personal stash. I need my best tequila. Lots of it. Especially when her gorgeous face flashes on my phone. I decline the call, my head bowing as I wait for the inevitable voice mail. My girl's...Fuck me. Better keep up the act. Outward and inward. My ex is resilient.

  My eyes blink open when the sharp tone dings, and I tap the button, pressing the screen to my ear.

  “I don’t know why you’re doing this..."

  Because I'd rather be dead than let anything happen to you.

  "Can we please talk? I have something I need to tell you. I don't want us to end like–”

  Delete. I can't listen anymore. Can't take the bravado she's forcing in her tone like her heart isn't shattered. Can't handle the crack in her voice on the last two words.

  God fucking damn it. Agony radiates up my arm from my fist connecting with the drywall. I punch and punch until blood gushes from my knuckles. Until sweat stings my eyes. Until my best friend jerks my arm and slams me against the crumbled plaster. His forearm shoved into my throat. Furious eyes meeting mine.

  "Enough!"

  He cares even though he shouldn't. About my head. My hand. My plot. He hates my act as much as I fucking do, but if there's any hint I'm upset about breaking up with her, the whole scam is worthless.

  I nod, defeated and spent, and let him drag my stupid ass into my now thankfully empty office. Only the musky scent of the earlier activities lingering in the blistering hot air.

  Choosing the sofa instead of my desk chair, I collapse onto the leather cushion. Unable to get the bottle he hands me to my mouth fast enough. Gulping the honey liquid like the booze is fucking oxygen.

  "You did the right thing."

  Tucker finally pulls the rim of his whiskey away from his own lips. One of us has to be the sane one. Luckily that's always been him. No point in fucking up a successful system that's kept us alive this long

  "Yeah."

  Twenty minutes pass before a text comes through. Which needs to be the last message she sends me because my willpower is fucking shot.

  “I’m sorry if I said or did something to hurt you. I love you and want to figure this out.”

  Fuck me. My throbbing fingers squeeze the bridge of my nose. The aching in my fists nothing compared to the torture burning in my chest. I type slow. Fucking killing me to hurt her so viciously. But I have no fucking choice. I have to end this. Absolute and complete.

  “Nothing to figure out, babe. You’re just too boring.”

  Of course, I never heard from her again. After I got the most wasted I’ve ever been, Tucker ushered me back to my booth, where I spent the rest of the night drinking with a parade of nameless, faceless women. Until the sun rose, and we made a huge production of loading three of them into my SUV for a ride straight to their own doorsteps rather than mine.

  We battled Savage for the next five days. My head pounding and stomach lurching during the first twenty-four hours from the alcohol and guilt poisoning me. Finally killing the bastard with the same barbarity he exacted upon his victims. With absolutely zero fucks and absolutely zero enjoyment. The revenge unable to alleviate any of my misery from causing hers.

  The frame squeals again when I push off the mattress and stride to the living room. Eager to see her stunning face. Hopefully get the chance to redeem myself and somehow find a way to put a smile back on her soft, lush lips.

  A giggle bounces from the hallway. Her giggle. Fuck. I've missed her laugh. I've missed being the man to generate her happiness. I’ve missed her.

  "You're so nice. I bet you even say you’re sorry when you cut people's heads off."

  Tucker's surprised chuckle funnels through the flimsy wood as the lock rattles. "I don't cut their heads off. Just their fingers and their cocks."

  "Oh."

  "Yeah, ‘oh’." More jostling of the knob. "Here let me do it."

  Finally the door slides open, and he guides her inside. Barefoot. Disheveled. Fucking gorgeous with her shiny eyes and pink cheeks and huge smile. While Tuck sets her jacket and clutch on the table, she lifts her arms in the air like she’s throwing confetti.

  “I’m home!”

  We both are, angel. Her unfocused gaze widens when she catches mine, and the grin slowly slides off her face. Tugged down, centimeter by centimeter, by a tangled rope of sorrow and humiliation and regret. That I’m going to unwind. Now. I hold out my hand. “Books.”

  She stares at my fingers. Studying them like they hold meaning deeper than the thick novels she buries herself into. “Chryseis?”

  Only one quick shake of her head before she twists around. And runs.

  Fuck! So it’s going to be like that. I’ve spent the last six months pushing her away, and I can’t fucking take being apart anymore. That shit stops now. If she won’t listen to my words, then she’s going to listen to her body. To her heart.

  With nothing else I can do – nothing left to lose – I run too.

  I barely reach the elevator before he catches me. Fruitlessly pounding my fists against the freezing metal that refuses to slide apart. Occupied with transporting Tucker back to freedom on the ground floor. Why does he get to escape and I don’t?

  Gio’s strong arms circle around my waist, tucking me against his broad chest so tight his heart pounds as crazy as mine. It feels so nice. I'm tired and lonely and miserable. I just want to give in. I just want him to hold me and pretend everything’s okay. Make my heart stop aching so much. I don’t want to hurt any more tonight.

  But I can’t. I won’t. He refuses to grow up, and I refuse to let him destroy me again. So I fight. Hard and furious. Twisting and kicking with all my might. Throwing back my head to scream.

  “Damn it Chryseis.”

  A huge hand covers my mouth, and I’m lifted from the matted carpet. Scratchy and rough threads disappear from under my bare feet. My legs
dangling as he carries me back into my apartment and kicks the door shut behind us. Damn him!

  I’m only able to grasp a sliver of skin between my teeth, but it’s enough to make him yelp when I clamp down with all the strength I can muster. Sharp bitterness warming my tongue when I break through his calloused palm.

  His grip loosens, but he doesn't release me. Instead, I tumble down toward the smooth hardwood, still trapped in his embrace. His erection bulges against my back. Incredible. I can't believe our argument turns him on. Although I can't deny the wetness in my panties from his scent. His proximity. His possessiveness.

  “Fuck that hurt!”

  Heat flares through me from his hiss in my ear. Too many memories flooding my tipsy brain of him taking me from behind. Lips on my shoulder. Tongue on my throat. Talented hands seeming to be everywhere at once pleasuring me so easily that I'd come on his fingers before he was even inside me.

  No! I won't let myself fall for him just from his touch. From the need he ignites with his urgent desire so obvious for me too.

  “Good! I wanted it to!”

  "I know you like it rough Books, but I didn't know you were into biting."

  His arrogant chuckle pisses me off. None of this is funny. Or cute. Or right. "Oh, so I let you lick my pussy a few times and now you think you know me?"

  He stiffens behind me. Almost as shocked as I am that I actually said that word. That I spoke in such a crass manner. I'm not that kind of woman. Rarely cursing and never using vulgarity. But he needs to understand how serious I am about battling him.

  Because as selfish and immature and wrong as the desire may be, I want to hurt him. I need to hurt him. Punish him for no other reason than at this moment I hate myself more than I hate him. Despise my desperate body betraying me. Flaming from his effort to convince me this is anything but sex.

  "Son of a bitch."