The room had gone quiet. Nick turned and stared hard at J.J. “Never interrupt the don, you piece of shit.”
The youngest capo went to his feet, but Julie, his father, said, “Sit, son. Nick’s right.”
J.J. sat and made the anger clear from his face. “My apologies, Don Pagano. I meant no disrespect.”
Ben nodded at him and turned to Nick. “Do you have a solution to our manpower need?”
“Yes. I’ve got Matty on it. We’ll pull men from the clubs. They’re not all cugines, looking to be made.” He turned to Dom and Julie. “And most of them aren’t Italian. But they’re loyal and good at the job. They know the score. We’ll hire new to replace them in the clubs. Brian’s—”
Nick stopped short, remembering suddenly that the present tense did not apply to Brian. He cleared his throat. “Brian saw the need for more personnel already, and he was doing some recruiting.”
“Excellent. Good. We five stay focused on New York. Nick is right that we need a solution soon. But now, enough business. Business should have no place here, especially now. Brian was a good and loyal soldier. He deserves better than to be ignored today by the people he served.”
The capos stood and headed toward the door. At Nick’s side, his uncle said, “Wait. You and I will toast Brian here, alone, first.”
When they were alone, Ben poured two glasses of his best scotch and handed one to Nick. “You should have the honor.”
Nick lifted his glass and said, simply, “To a good friend.”
“Un buon amico,” Ben echoed. They drank. When Ben set his glass down, he said. “You know, Brian would have made a fine capo.”
“Uncle, with respect, don’t.” Nick wasn’t in a state of mind to deal calmly with that topic.
“Listen to what I have to say, Nicolo.” He sat on one of the sofas and indicated that Nick should do the same. “It’s not a tardy change of heart I’m having. I’m telling you that I know how loyal and smart he was. But our ways have a purpose. It’s not just tradition that insists that our leaders be full-blooded. It’s the blood itself, without conflict, families united behind the men who make the choice for this life. Who understand. You’ve never dated an Italian woman, and I don’t meddle with your choices. But should you marry outside the blood, should you have sons in such a union, they would not be your legacy in this life.” He paused. “Maybe that’s for the best.”
“I know the reasoning. I don’t know why you’re telling me this.”
“Because you brought a woman to Brian’s funeral, and you held her hand all day. Because when you speak of family we need to keep safe, you say her name without hesitation. Because you reacted when J.J. called her your comare. She’s more than your mistress, isn’t she?”
His uncle’s powers of observation remained keen. Nick didn’t bother to think about his answer. “Yes.”
Ben sat forward and poured them both another drink. “She’s lovely. When things calm down, your aunt will call. We’ll have you both, and your mother, over for a nice dinner.”
~oOo~
Nick stood on his balcony, staring out to the sea. The surf was heavy, and the air resounded with crash after crash against the shore. He loved the ocean like this, roaring at the world, asserting its dominance, pulling even the earth under it. But he loved the silent stillness of the open sea on a calm day even better—glassy calm atop fathomless depths, hidden supremacy.
He stood and smoked, feeling the crashing surf echo inside him. Lately, he’d been fighting himself for calm almost constantly. Calm control was his greatest asset, his most powerful weapon. He was not reckless, ever. He did not make rash decisions, ever. That remained true. But he could feel his tether slipping in his hands. The damage Church had done was personal. There was no tether strong enough to keep that truth from his mind.
The door opened behind him, and he stubbed out his cigarette.
“I always forget that you smoke.” Beverly stepped up close behind him and circled her arms around his waist. “You don’t do it much.”
“It’s a private thing. I smoke when I need to think a certain kind of thought.” He lifted one of her hands and kissed it. “You did well today, bella. Thank you.”
She really had. He’d been concerned about how she’d do, surrounded by Pagano Brothers family, but he needn’t have been. She’d stayed calm after the Church encounter, and she had simply been absorbed into the women at his uncle’s house. He’d checked on her a few times and had found her talking with his aunt and mother and the other women, helping in the kitchen, seemingly perfectly at her ease. His mother had pulled him aside late in the afternoon and waxed euphoric about her—so pretty, so smart, so sweet, such a good girl. She’d even remarked that Beverly had ‘good hips for babies’—he had no idea what that meant, and he didn’t bother to inquire. He got enough of the gist.
“I like your mom a lot. She’s kind of a broad. Your aunt, too.”
He looked over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“They say what they mean. They don’t tell themselves or anybody else fairy tales. They’re…pragmatic, I guess. If that makes sense. They don’t pretend things aren’t bad when they are, but instead of wringing their hands, they roll up their sleeves. I admire that. I try to be like that. It’s hard.”
“You are like that, Beverly.” He turned to face her, the touch of her arms sliding around his waist as he did so making his cock fill out. Her hair was loose, and she’d washed her face clean of makeup. She didn’t seem to wear much anyway, but without it, she looked younger and more innocent.
She wore one of his t-shirts, and he plucked at the shoulder. “Didn’t you see what was on my bed?”
“I did.” Her eyes dropped, and her head along with it. “I didn’t know if it was for me.”
He lifted her chin. “A lingerie box, open on my bed. Who else would it be for?” He smiled, but he could feel irritation beginning to bubble. “You think maybe I bought it for myself?”
“I just…didn’t want to presume.”
That irritation surged. “We’ll have this conversation now, and never again. I don’t fuck around. I never fuck more than one woman at a time—and I mean that in any possible definition. I told you I want to be with you. I’m with you. If there’s lingerie on my bed, it’s because I bought it for you and expect you to wear it. Are we clear?”
Her eyes flashed in the moonlight, and she stepped away from him. “We’re clear. And good. I don’t cheat, either. But watch your tone. I don’t take orders. What if I don’t like what you buy me?”
Now his smile was sincere. As gentle as she was, she stood up for herself, always. “Then say that. Do you not like it?”
She smiled back, lighting up the night. “It’s pretty fancy. I’ve never worn anything like it. But it’s freaking beautiful.”
He pulled her close and slid his hand under the t-shirt, then into her panties, between her legs. She was as wet as he was hard. She gasped at his touch and threw her head back, her hands clutching his arms. He flicked his fingers over the swollen bud of her clit, and she twitched and moaned.
“Wear it tomorrow,” he growled. “I’m gonna fuck you right here.” He kissed her, fiercely, more than he’d even intended, and wrapped his fist around her underwear. He yanked until the side tore free, then he turned and shoved her against the side of the building.
He felt her hands pushing at his chest, but he ignored her. When he had to let her mouth go to get the t-shirt over her head, she gasped, “Wait—not out here! The neighbors—Nick, no.”
“Yes.” She was naked, but still wearing the necklace he’d given her earlier in the day. The sun. It made him all the hotter to see it. All day, his eyes had been drawn to it. More than an adornment, it was a symbol. A mark. He hadn’t realized it when he’d bought it, but it was more than a gift. It was a statement.
He released his aching cock from his sweats and lifted her off the ground, catching her leg high over his arm. More than two weeks had passed since
she’d been hurt, and days had passed since their fucking had caused her ribs discomfort. She was working out again, and he could feel the way her muscles stretched more easily with his demands.
Sinking deeply into her, he felt again, as always, the wonder at her responsiveness. She was completely without affect in sex, without guile or self-consciousness. Just as she danced for herself, for the enjoyment of it, she fucked the same way—by instinct, following the needs and impulses of her body.
He’d fucked a lot of women. About half of them fucked like they were performing—always aware of how they looked, how they sounded. Most other women were passive, apparently taking his need for control and his lack of gentleness to mean that he didn’t want them to participate, even when he told them to. Beverly just went with it, doing what felt right, making whatever sounds happened, moving with him to maximize her own experience—which maximized the shit out of his.
And so, as he’d known would be the case, as soon as he was inside her, as soon as his hand was plucking her nipple and his tongue was exploring her mouth, she gave up her protests about their location and was completely with him, grunting raunchily with every thrust, biting his tongue, his lips, yanking at his hair. This was what he wanted. Passion. Physical need so great and powerful that the world disappeared around them.
Nick let go of the world and fucked her, driving harder and deeper with every thrust. She let go of his hair and put her hands against the wall, forcing her body down with his every inward, upward thrust, bringing him even deeper. Needing more oxygen than he could get through his nose, he broke their kiss and put his forehead on her chest.
“I need it harder,” she gasped. “Harder, oh God, please harder.”
He went harder, but didn’t have much longer left, so he dropped his hand down her back and slid two fingers into her ass. This was his; only he had ever given her pleasure in this way, and Nick found that fantastically potent. He wanted more of her ass, but would take that slowly. For now, he loved the way all her muscles closed around him like a vise the very instant his fingers pressed against that tight skin. She came immediately, and she came hard.
And tonight, she came screaming, drowning out the sound of the roaring surf. Nick released his hold on himself and followed with her, his own shout crashing around them.
They’d definitely given the neighbors a show.
~ 12 ~
“Remember to keep your breaths coming from the diaphragm, from your center.” Bev looked at the women assembled before her, facing the ocean. Teaching this little morning beach yoga class was one of her favorite things. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was just play money, anyway, set aside for treats and extras. And she would have done it for free. She’d been glad to get back to it, and gladder still that her class didn’t seem to mind that there were two guys in suits lurking back at the edge of the sand.
Two men. Donnie and a much bigger guy everybody called Smash. Bev felt sure that his mother had named him something else, but he hadn’t said, and she hadn’t asked. Though she liked Donnie a whole lot and had been even having fun with him hanging around all the time, Smash was grimmer and more businesslike—and he scared Bev, just a little. She knew he was on her side, there to protect her, and in that way she felt safer with him around. Donnie wasn’t so great at the bodyguard gig. But Smash didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d sit with her and watch Smallville reruns with some popcorn.
She moved her class down to savasana, talking them through the full-body relaxation, keeping her speech timed to the ebb and flow of the water nearby. Then they came up to lotus, and she ended the class, as always, with “Namaste.”
The class rolled up their mats and walked together toward their building. Bev looked up and saw Nick watching from his balcony, dressed in everything but his suit jacket. He lifted his coffee mug, and she smiled and waved at him.
“Come see me before I go,” he called down.
She wasn’t really sure what day marked the beginning of their couplehood, but she marked their time together from the bombing, which was just shy of three weeks earlier. Things seemed to be moving quickly, at least from her perspective, but they also seemed to be going at the perfect pace. They spent almost every night together, sometimes in his bed, sometimes in hers, with no real plan or reasoning behind the choice.
He’d been away one night, in New York for some kind of business. With the extra guards and that terrible scene at the cemetery with all the guns, Bev expected that his business in New York had been dangerous, and she had felt real fear for him, even though he’d brushed her fears away, just as he had in the car at the cemetery.
What he did didn’t matter to her, at least as long as it was in the abstract, at least as long as she had the Nick she knew. But what she didn’t know did scare her. There was so much death around him. The chance that he’d get caught up in that himself had to be high. She was holding her heart out to a man who could die and take it with him.
But she supposed that was true of anyone. No one got a guarantee of a long, safe life. Heartbreak was around every corner.
She got to their floor, and Sam opened Nick’s door for her. He was waiting for her inside.
“I love watching you do that.” He kissed her, and she dropped her mat and hooked her arms around his neck, letting him bend her backward a little. No one had ever kissed her the way Nick did—with his full body, making her full body respond in kind. “Makes me want to fuck you on the spot.”
She chuckled and sucked lightly on his bottom lip until he groaned and held her even closer, so that their bodies were almost sealed together. “Fine by me. I’m closing tonight, so I have hours before I have to go in.”
With a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth, he set her solidly on the floor again and released her. “I don’t like you closing. I don’t like you working that job at all.”
She smiled and brushed her fingers over his strong, square chin. “We covered this already—a couple times. I need to work. I need to pay my bills. You’ve got David and Goliath following me around everywhere. I’m just as safe at Sal’s as I am anywhere else.”
“That is objectively false. You’re safer tucked in your apartment. Or mine. Mine would be better.”
“No, Nick. My heart is already all tangled up here. I’m trying to do a little bit of thinking with my head.”
“If you were thinking with your head, you’d do what I say.”
In the days since Brian’s funeral, he’d started this topic every time she mentioned her job. He’d said he’d keep her safe. He’d said he would take care of her bills. But they were too new to even contemplate something like that. Part of her wanted it, wanted to be able to say, Yes! Take care of me! But she didn’t like that part. She wanted to be independent. And she needed to be smart. Giving up her job was wrong for a thousand different reasons. “I need to work.”
He stared down at her, the muscles in his jaw twitching, and she knew he was frustrated. She was, too. But she blew that feeling away like a dandelion puff and smiled up at him.
After a beat or two, his expression eased, and he smiled, too. “People don’t tell me no.”
“Obviously.”
“You come straight back, and you come here. Understood?”
“Like Donnie and Smash would let me do anything else.”
“Good. And I’ve got something for you. I’ll give it to you tonight.”
“Something else?” Already he’d given her three expensive gifts, though the first, her necklace, was by far her favorite. He seemed to take great pleasure in giving her gifts, and he understood her taste in ways even she didn’t. Nothing he’d given her would have made her own radar screen—in large part because of the expense—but all of it was beautiful and suited her.
“Yes. You’ll see tonight. But now”—he kissed her nose—“I have to get going. Are you going to stick around here for a while?”
“No. I have things to do at my place.”
He nodded and grabbed his ja
cket from the back of a chair, then led her out of his apartment.
~oOo~
Traffic in the diner was a little heavier than usual for a Wednesday, but the spring had been warm, and it was early May. The season wasn’t far off. Skylar worked the swing, so she and Bev worked dinner together. They had a full house, counter, too, and for the first time, Bruce grumbled about Bev’s ‘friends’ in the corner booth. Every time he said ‘friends,’ the quotation marks were obvious. He was, in general, in a foul mood all day.
Bev wasn’t in a great mood herself. She’d been fine, having a day like any other, trying and almost succeeding to nudge Bruce into a better mood, flirting a little with Dink, who always blushed when she did. The dinner rush was harder than usual, though, and badness had almost broken out when some jerk at the counter smacked her ass as she went by. Smash had jumped up so fast he’d almost torn the booth apart, and Bev had found herself holding him off like a rabid bull. The diner had been full of people.
Deep (The Pagano Family Book 4) Page 17