Mick Sinatra: Love and Shadows

by Mallory Monroe

  Roz knew what was probably coming as soon as she woke up, saw his discarded clothing, and realized he was in the shower. She laid on her back and found herself looking at Mick’s white coat. She was looking for blood stains. To her great relief, she didn’t see any.

  It wasn’t until Mick got out of the shower, however, and Roz was able to see him for herself, did she completely relax. His naked body was its usual perfection, with not a scratch on it, and his stark, green eyes, although they looked troubled, did not look wild. They would have looked wild if the situation had gone sideways. Not that it went great. He looked too troubled for it to have gone great. But it didn’t go completely off track.

  Mick was staring at her, too, when he walked back into their bedroom from their en-suite. When he saw that her eyes were opened, he was inwardly pleased. “You’re awake?” he asked as he dried off.

  “Yep. You’re alive?”

  Mick tossed the towel aside. “You’re about to find out,” he said, as he came toward the bed. Roz knew that look. And when she looked down, she saw the change in his penis.

  Mick threw the silk sheet that covered Roz off of the bed, exposing her sleek, naked body, and his eyes narrowed. He even licked his lips, something Roz rarely ever saw Mick do.

  But he didn’t hesitate. He got in bed, on top of her, and went straight for her plump breasts. He sucked her nipples, and squeezed her mounds, and had Roz licking her lips from the sheer feeling Mick’s touch engendered.

  But Mick wasn’t stopping there. That same feeling was on him even harder than it was on Roz, and he needed to release it. And he did. On her mouth. He placed each hand on the sides of her face and kissed her with a searing kiss. He loved her taste. He loved the way she smelled. He loved the fact that she was everything he was not; that she was everything his world was not. She was his safe landing.

  And he landed safely all over her body. He stopped kissing her and looked at her. He was so sensual, both of his eyes looked sleepy. “I want to fuck you so bad I can hardly bear it,” Mick said.

  “Then fuck me,” Roz said brashly and pulled his mouth back to her mouth, and kissed him passionately, too.

  Mick returned her kiss with even more urgency. Then he looked at her again. “I want you,” he said. “I want every inch of you!”

  And Mick moved down quickly, between her legs, and went down hard on her. So hard that Roz’s entire body was pushed up against the headboard. So hard that she lifted her back, and squeezed the fitted sheet, as he ate her until her labia were swollen. It was painful pleasure at this point, as Mick was doing her so roughly that it took her to higher highs and higher pain, too. And then, as if she couldn’t possibly take anymore, he moved onto his back and pulled her on top of him.

  At first, he just held her. And kissed her again. And then guided his fully aroused penis inside of her. But what amazed Roz, was how Mick could regain such control. After nearly injuring her with his oral, he was now tenderly fucking her. He was now holding her in his arms, on top of him, making her feel like his queen.

  Mick felt as if his world was righted again as he made slow, passionate love to Roz. He didn’t think about anything else. He wasn’t trying to figure out Amelia or anybody else. He just wanted to be with Rosalind. And he stayed with her. He pumped into her deeper and deeper and held her tighter and tighter as his juices mixed with hers and they made wonderful music together.

  Roz enveloped herself completely into Mick’s embrace. She loved the way he did her. She kissed him again, as he did her. Until she was lying her head on his chest, and enjoying what he did.

  And when she came, he came. They were that much in sync. And Mick poured into her. He didn’t hold back. Even as Roz was overwhelmed by his outpouring, and wanted him to pull out because of the wonderful but hugely intense feelings, he kept on pushing deeper into her and releasing into her. Because he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t pull out. And when it was all settled, and Mick had nothing left, Roz was glad he stayed in. She was glad he held on.

  After lying there, still breathing heavily, Roz found the strength to lift her head and look at Mick. “You’re very much alive,” she said.

  Mick smiled.

  “And I take it Big Daddy and Ted are too?”

  Mick nodded. “They’re okay.”

  “And Amelia?” Roz asked.

  Mick didn’t respond. “How was your day?” he asked, instead.

  Roz was slightly shaken by his refusal to answer, but she didn’t pursue it. Yet. “Super-busy.”

  “Giles and Archie were leaving your office when I dropped by. What was that about? I thought everything was settled during those meetings in New York.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  Mick looked at her. “What do you mean, ‘you thought so?’”

  It was Roz’s time to hesitate. She found herself staring at his lips for some reason. “Archie did a verbal on a six-month run in London,” she said.

  Mick frowned. “Six months? I know better than that, Rosalind. I told you that was off the table.”

  “I know. I told him that, too. But Arch had to agree to terms or London would walk away from the table. And we need that European exposure. They wanted a year-long commitment. He agreed to six months. He claims he was looking out for my best interests, which is his job.”

  Mick was fuming. She could tell. “Okay,” was all he’d say.

  “I could unwind the deal,” Roz said, “but it won’t be pretty. My international reputation will be tarnished if that happens, and I’m sure London will want no deal at all.” Then she exhaled. “Archie should have never put me in this spot.”

  “Are the Londoners still in New York?”

  Roz nodded. “Yes.”

  Mick nodded. “Okay,” he said again. And Roz knew that was all he was going to say about it.

  She went back to her original subject. “Is Big Daddy staying overnight?” she asked.

  “You know he has an aversion to spending too much time away from Jericho. But he wants me to be sure to contact him whenever I get any word of Amelia’s whereabouts”

  “Her whereabouts?” Roz asked. “So, she wasn’t there?”

  Mick didn’t respond at first. And then he spoke up. “She wasn’t there,” he said. “Her men came after us. Hard. Really hard. But she wasn’t there.”

  “And you’re sure they were her men?”

  Mick nodded. “They were hers. Teddy knew them.”

  “Nobody knows where she might be?”

  “Nobody knows yet. But don’t worry, I’ve got every man on my payroll tracking her ass down. We’ll find her. I ordered them to release Mahoney from Olsen Street so that he could help track her down. Her people has his family.”

  “But what does this all mean, Mick? It’s now confirmed that she’s the force behind all of this craziness?”

  Mick nodded. “It’s confirmed, yes.”

  Roz exhaled. “Oh, Mick,” she said, a worried look piercing her face. “That’s not good.” Then she laid her head back on top of him.

  Mick rubbed her back, and held her tighter. She didn’t know just how not good that truly was.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The next morning, when Mick got into his Lamborghini, Roz got in beside him. If he thought he was going to drop her off at work and then make a quick jaunt over to New York, to handle their London situation, he had another thought coming. “I’m going with you,” Roz said to him as soon as she sat down.

  Mick looked at her. She wore a red skirt suit that made her brown skin sparkle, and heels that matched her Prada handbag. She looked gorgeous to Mick. “I know you prefer to drive yourself to work, but until I find Amelia or whoever the fuck is behind this shit, that’s the way it’s going to be. I’ll be taking you to work.”

  “I understand that,” Roz said. “And I’m not bitching about it. But what I am bitching about is afterwards.”

  Mick frowned. “Afterwards?”

  “After you take me to work, you plan to take a qui
ck trip to New York.” She looked at him again. “I’m going with you.”

  Mick sometimes wondered how Roz could know his thinking when he didn’t share a word to her or anybody else. It was a blessing and a curse, was how he felt about it. But instead of wasting energy he really didn’t have arguing with her about it, he cranked up and took off. And he didn’t take her to work. He took her with him straight to New York.

  The irony wasn’t lost on Roz when Mick drove under the portico at the famed Carson-Benning, a luxurious hotel he owned. Roz didn’t pick this location as a place for the visiting London producers to stay: they picked it themselves. And during all of their contract negotiations she never once mentioned to them the fact that they were staying, and negotiating, in a hotel owned by her husband. She was not the type to namedrop.

  But Mick was. As the valets quickly opened the car doors for both he and Roz, he stepped out buttoning his suit coat with the expectation that everybody who worked at that hotel would know who had arrived. And to treat them accordingly.

  He was not disappointed. As soon as he and Roz walked into the lobby of the hotel, everybody in leadership hurried to their side to offer assistance. By the time they made it to Mick’s private elevator, the GM was by their side offering assistance, too.

  “We’re fine for now,” Mick responded to his General Manager. “But notify the salon staff,” he added as the elevator doors opened, “that whenever my wife enters that establishment she’d better not end up sitting in a waiting room.”

  “Oh, that was most unfortunate, sir,” the GM said a tad too sympathetically, if you asked Roz. “I already took care of it. It won’t happen again, sir, I assure you of that!”

  “See to it,” Mick said as he and Roz stepped onto the elevator, and the doors closed them in, and his GM out.

  But Roz was stunned. “How did you know I was in the waiting room at that salon?” she asked him.

  But instead of reminding her that he knew everything that went on in his businesses, he pressed the button to the twenty-second floor.

  Roz knew not to pursue it. Besides, a part of her was inwardly elated that he paid so much attention to her wants and needs. She knew he was a strong man who could handle a lot of matters all at once. But as they made their way up to the twenty-second floor, and Roz saw that strain all over Mick’s face, she had her doubts. And she wondered why was he bothering at all. “You don’t have to do this, Mick,” she said. “You have so much to worry about as it is. Me and my guys can handle this.”

  Her ‘guys’ were Giles Forney and Archie Stein; neither of which Mick was particularly enameled with. “It was your guys who fucked up negotiations to begin with,” he said. “I have no confidence in them handling it to my satisfaction.”

  Roz studied him. “And what would be to your satisfaction?” she asked.

  “One week run,” Mick said. “There’s no way I’m allowing you to sign off on a six-month run, I don’t care how badly London insists. And please don’t tell me you don’t want any strong-arm tactics.”

  “I have to work with these people, Mick,” Roz said. “That’s what I’m worried about. Even if they agree to give me what we want, word will get around that if they don’t want that gangster husband of mine threatening them, they’d better stay clear of Roz Graham. That’s what I’m afraid of. It’s like I’ll be damned if I do, and damned if I don’t.”

  Mick considered her. She looked flustered. “What do you suggest I do?” he asked her. “Because you aren’t doing six months. That’s out. What do you suggest?”

  “Let me handle it, please. You just be here for moral support. If I can’t get them to agree to my terms,” Roz said, “I’ll be willing to walk away. Just don’t be a factor in this.”

  Mick stared at her. She had to know that his presence alone would be the intimidating factor. But he nodded. “As you wish,” he said.

  And he was right. His presence alone was intimidating in and of itself. As soon as one of the two Londoners opened the door to their suite and saw Roz’s face, he was loaded for bear. “Archie told me you hate the terms,” he said, “but that shall have to be your problem. We are firm with our ultimatum.” He walked away, back into the suite, leaving the door open for Roz to follow him. He walked away before he realized that Mick had entered behind her, and closed the door behind them.

  Although his partner immediately saw their problem when he saw Mick enter behind Roz, the talkative producer who had opened the door headed straight for the wet bar and was making himself a drink. His partner, who had been relaxing on the sofa, rose to his feet.

  But the talkative producer, the one who had opened the door, kept talking. He kept refusing to let anyone else get a word in edgewise. “The thing you have to realize, darling,” he said with his back to all, “is that you need us far more than we will ever need you. You are not that big a deal, honey.”

  “I see,” Roz said. “That’s why you came all this way to New York? That’s why you’ve spent a week in negotiations? And you did all of that because I’m not that big a deal? Is that what you expect me to believe?”

  “I take it this is your husband, Roz?” the more sedate producer asked.

  The talkative producer, on hearing what his partner had just said, quickly turned around. When he realized Mick was standing there, behind Roz, his heart dropped. He’d heard her husband was a gangster, and a particularly nasty one at that. But he’d also heard that her husband stayed out of her affairs. He was not an intimidator.

  “Hello there,” Talkative said.

  Mick didn’t respond. And Roz was grateful. She realized she had to give a little too. She realized she had to get off of that one week run position in order to make them feel that they, at least, moved the needle. “I came with an ultimatum of my own,” she said. “I can do a limited engagement, two-week run instead of one,” she said, “or it’s a no-go.”

  The talkative producer, and his partner, looked from Mick to Roz, but right back at Mick. And both of them knew, as clear as they knew the noses on their faces, that this was as good as it was ever going to get. Besides, saying no to Rosalind Graham-Sinatra wasn’t worth dying over.

  “You have a deal,” the talkative producer said.

  But Roz was amazed. She never dreamed he would agree this easily. Then she remembered who was behind her. She turned toward Mick quickly. Had he flashed a gun at them? But then she saw that cold look in his sometimes very chillingly cold-looking eyes. And she realized it too. His presence was enough. She also realized, as a woman who once couldn’t get a call back from producers, that she had to take advantage of her breaks in whatever form they took. “Good,” she said. “Finally progress.”

  But as soon as Mick and Roz got back in his Lamborghini, his cell phone rang and regression, rather than progression, became the rule. It was Joey. With bad news again.

  “Tell me,” Mick said into his car phone.

  “Another dock hit, Pop.”

  Roz looked at Mick.

  “Where this time?” Mick asked.

  “Memphis.”

  “Geez. That’s one of our biggest ports. What’s the head count?”

  “Forty-three men.”

  “Shit.”

  “And yes, the shipment was untouched.”

  Mick exhaled. “Halt all new shipments.”

  “What?” Joey was stunned.

  “Keep every ship of mine out of every port of entry. And keep my men away until we can get a handle on this.”

  “But Dad! Count up the costs. The money we’ll lose.”

  “We’ve lost over a hundred men. What cost do you want me to count up, Joey? These were good, loyal men. Fuck money! Halt all shipments!”

  Roz had even more respect for this man beside her than she could have thought possible.

  “Yes, sir,” Joey said, and Mick ended the call.

  But progress on an even greater scale would occur a week later, back in Philly, on the night of their weekly family dinner. Amelia Valtone,
Mick’s African-American half-sister, the woman responsible for his syndicate’s current woes, would come out of the shadows boldly: the only way she knew how.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  It was moments after the weekly family dinner. The twins, who had been allowed to stay up, had just been put to bed. When Roz and Gloria returned to the living room, Mick was lying on one sofa, and Teddy and Joey were seated across from him on the opposite sofa. The brothers were arguing. Gloria moved to sit on the sofa with them, since Mick’s long frame had hogged up the other one and she didn’t have the nerve to ask him to give her room. But Teddy grabbed her arm and forced her to sit down between he and Joey. Like a referee, she thought.

  Roz lifted Mick’s head onto her lap and sat on the sofa with him. She knew he was bone tired or he would not be lying down. She also knew the last thing he needed right now was a blowup between his sons.

  “All I’m saying,” Teddy said, “is that I have to be informed when shit goes down.”

  “I do inform you!” Joey shot back.

  “Oh, really now?” Teddy asked. “And when did you inform me about that dockside hit? When did you inform me of that highly significant, all-of-our-men-were-murdered incident?”

  Joey waved his hand dismissively. “I knew Dad would tell you,” he said.

  “See,” Teddy said. “This is the kind of shit I’m not going to put up with.”

  “And now you see what kind of shit I have to put up with,” Joey said.

  Both of them were talking to Mick. Mick wasn’t looking at either one of them.

  “He acts like he owns me, though,” Joey continued. “Like I’m his fucking slave!” Then he turned to Teddy. “Dad put me in charge of the docks. I run the shipments in and out of here. What the fuck does that have to do with you?”

  Both men looked at Mick, to see which side of the scale his thumb would fall down on. But Mick remained out of it.