Model for the Mob: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance

by Flora Ferrari

  “Franco’s a madman,” the leader snaps, fear quivering in his voice. He knows how bad this situation could turn for him. “What do you think he’ll do when he finds out we let you go?”

  There it is, the giveaway that this man doesn’t want to be here.

  When we let you go… not if.

  “Franco isn’t going to be able to bother anybody after today. You can count on that. So put your guns down and leave before you force us to fuck you up.”

  “Ten grand?” he says, eyebrows quirked.

  “For those two.” I nod at the men still with him. “But not for you. You insulted my woman, you sick fuck. You made depraved threats. You’ll leave with your life and be grateful for it. You know what? Twenty grand for you two.” I gesture at the men. “If you take his gun and give it to me.”

  The men snap into action like I knew they would. They had that glint in their eyes, the tell-tell sign that a man is willing to be bought, but I simply haven’t offered enough money yet.

  They grab their so-called friend and push him to the floor, snatching his gun. One of them hands it to me and I grab it by the barrel.

  “Men,” I say.

  Aldo and my men flow into action, picking up the discarded weapons and gathering around the men. I keep the leader on the floor with my gun aimed at his face as Aldo handles the list and the money business.

  Soon the men are filing past us, heading for the exit, and once the door closes behind them Aldo locks and double-locks it.

  “What’re we going to do with him?” Aldo asks, nodding at the man beneath me.

  “I should put a bullet in your throat for what you said about my woman,” I snarl, prodding his head with the gun. “Do you understand that?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

  “You did mean it. You’re just not the one holding the gun anymore.”

  He flinches away from me, as though any second I’m going to pull the trigger. And the way I’m feeling, I’m tempted. I could blow this bastard away and make him see – in his final moments – the punishment men will receive if they ever dare to disrespect my woman.

  “Boss,” Aldo says, walking up beside me.

  “I know.”

  I sigh. Aldo knows how much killing weighs on a man, and he doesn’t want to go down that dark path if there’s an alternative.

  I prod the man with the gun again. “You’re exiled from this city. You have twenty-four hours to get the fuck as far away from the east coast as you can. It’s open season on you then, motherfucker. Fellas, get his license and his details. We’re going to watch you, make sure you do as you’re told.”

  “Yes, yes, I will. Thank you.”

  I turn away in disgust. The last thing I need is this piece of shit thanking me.

  I take out my cellphone and check my calls.

  Seven missed calls from the estate’s landline, and three from my head of security.

  “A few of you stay here to make sure this shit head leaves. The rest with me. Now.”

  I stalk outside and over to Aldo’s car, and then curse when I realize I don’t have the keys. But he’s at my side, shuffling past me to get to the door.

  I run around the passenger side and drop into the seat, barely aware of what I’m doing, lost in the moment the same way I was with my woman last night.

  And now Franco is going to kill her, or do evil fucked-up things to her if we don’t get back in time.

  “Push it, Aldo,” I snarl. “Fuck—I can’t believe he’d be stupid enough to hit the estate.”

  “He’s unhinged. Nobody could’ve predicted this.”

  Aldo weaves between cars, no longer caring about traffic rules. He knows I’d roar at him to hurry the fuck up if he started old-lady driving right now.

  I wring my hands together, squeezing as tension moves through me, my mind flooded with all the cruel things that could be happening to Lucy right now.

  I call my head of security, Paulie, but it goes to voicemail.

  “Fuck.” I slam my hand against the dashboard. “If they touch one hair on her head, it’s going to be a massacre. I’m warning you right now, Aldo. One hair and they’re all dead men.”

  “I know.” Aldo shifts gear and punches a hole in the traffic, surging onto the highway. “We’ll do our best.”

  “Our best.” I snort. “We’re keeping her safe and that’s the end of it.”

  My body roars at me, my seed rioting from deep inside, demanding to know why I ever let her get involved in this mess in the first place. I should’ve spirited her far away, to a different state or even overseas until all this madness was handled.

  I made a mistake.

  And I might pay the ultimate price for it.

  We’re coming for you, Lucy, I roar in my mind. Please believe I’d never abandon you.

  Aldo drives faster.

  But part of me is terrified it won’t be fast enough.

  “Don’t you think I want to keep Maria safe too?” Aldo snaps. “She raised me, Luca.”

  “I know, cousin. I know. So keep fucking driving.”

  “Amen to that.”

  He changes gear.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Lucy

  “Why has the shooting stopped?” I whisper.

  We sit pushed together on one of the lower bunk beds, Toto sprawled our between our laps, shivering, as though the little terror wants to get as much warmth from both of us as he can.

  It feels like we’ve been sitting here for years, listening to the gunfire lace the air, listening to big bangs and men roar…

  And now it’s silent.

  “I don’t know,” Maria says quietly. “Maybe Paulie’s men have won.”

  “Or maybe Franco’s have,” I murmur, my stomach twisting with anxiety.

  I don’t even know if Luca is safe. I don’t know if he’s on his way here or if they executed him the moment he stepped inside the Lioni Lounge. My body aches just as fiercely for my man’s fate as it does for my own, my insides pulsing and roaring at the thought that my Luca could be lying face down in his own blood.

  My womb screams angrily at me for not giving myself to him when I had the chance.

  I might not get another opportunity to feel his solid arms wrapped around me, pulling me close to him so that the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Just me and him in the moment, alone and disconnected, and the whole world could collapse around us and we wouldn’t care.

  That’s what we shared last night on the rose-petal-covered platform, and that’s what we might never share again.

  “Everything’s going to be okay,” Maria murmurs, her voice shaky.

  “You don’t know that,” I say.

  “No.” She sighs coldly. “But it’s what we have to believe.”

  Both of us freeze when there’s the sound of movement behind the door, men grunting, something heavy-sounding and metallic being dragged across the floor.

  “Little pigs,” Franco sings through the metal door, and my insides freeze in terror. He sounds high on drugs as well as bloodlust and battle and sadism, his voice a sickening cocktail of depraved intent. “Why don’t you make this easy and come out like ladies? Or are you going to make the big bad wolf blow your door down?”

  “Leave while you have the chance,” Maria calls out, her voice admirably calm considering the circumstances.

  We’re alone. Unprotected. And we have no weapons.

  We’re freaking fucked.

  “Ah, Maria, how nice to hear your voice. It’s so much sweeter than the sound of men with bullets in their bellies.”

  “You know what will happen if you touch us,” Maria says, her voice ice even as her face melts under the strain of the situation. Her expression shimmers with fear, but her voice is brave and untouchable. “Luca will—”

  “Luca will do nothing,” Franco roars, sounding unhinged, like a man who could snap at any second. “I’ll put a bullet in that fool’s head if he tries anything—”

  “Shut up,
you monster,” I scream, the words coming from deep inside of me. “You’re not even close to half the man Luca is, so keep his name out of your mouth.”

  “Is that her, the prize, little Lucy Scott? Ah, dear Lucy, it’s so nice to meet with you again.”

  “Go to hell,” I snap.

  He chuckles. “I’m going to make you pay for that. I’ve done my research into you, Miss Scott, and I still have no fucking clue why that bastard Luca wants you. You seem like a sad little girl to me. But I guess you’ve got some mafia connections somewhere. Ah well. I’ll soon carve your bravery out of you.”

  I let out a quiet whimper, my insides twisting in agony.

  The phrase is vicious and cruel and sickening.

  Carve your bravery out of you.

  It plays in my mind on repeat, throwing out accompanying images which make my skin crawl.

  “Luca will save us,” Maria whispers fiercely. “He’s never failed me before. Never.”

  I can tell she’s trying to sound brave and confident for me, but there’s an unmistakable quiver of uncertainty buried within her voice. She tries to hide it, but she can’t.

  “Are you going to come out like nice little whores, or are you going to make me get the blowtorch?”

  Heavy machinery, Paulie said… does a blowtorch count as heavy machinery?

  “If you’re wondering if that’ll work,” Franco growls, “it will. It’ll take us maybe an hour to cut our way in there. If that. And every minute it takes I’m going to take out on your bodies. In any way I damn well want. Then I’ll send Luca the photos of my work… if he’s still alive by then.”

  I stand up, my heart thudding with a deafening beat. Toto yelps and leaps into Maria’s lap.

  I walk right over to the door and pound my arms against it, rage bubbling out of me.

  “Luca is going to kill you. Don’t you understand that? My man would never let anything happen to us.”

  “Your man?” Franco laughs viciously. “Luca has never so much as looked at a woman. You’re living in a dreamland, you silly slut.”

  “You’re living in a dreamland if you think he’d ever let you get away with this,” I scream.

  “Enough. Men, open this fucking door.”

  The metal sound returns, and I imagine a giant blowtorch being dragged over to the door, enough to turn the metal into melting butter.

  I step away from the door on shaking legs, barely able to bring my breathing back to something like normal.

  “What do we do?” I whisper, dropping onto the bed.

  “There’s nothing we can do,” Maria says, her voice wavering. “Just wait… and pray that Luca gets here in time.”

  A loud hissing sound comes from the door, the flaring power of a blowtorch.

  “See you soon, ladies.” Franco laughs maniacally. “See you very soon.”

  I slide my hands over my belly, praying that Luca is alive, and hating myself for not consummating our love when we had the chance.

  We might never get another opportunity.

  Please, Luca. Please be alive.

  Maria and I huddle closer together when the inside of the door starts to glow orange. Hisses of heat flicker from the place they’re cutting, spitting into the air. I’m sure I can even feel some of the heat from here, but perhaps that’s just my anxiety piling onto the terror.

  “Be as cooperative as you can,” Maria whispers, no longer trying to mask the dread lacing her voice. “Whatever they ask… just do it.”

  “Maria, they might ask some pretty sick fucking stuff.”

  I’ve never cursed this much before, but my fear is making it easy to use the words I was punished for in the orphanage.

  “I know,” she says. “But it’s the only way to keep men like this calm.”

  “We have to get weapons.”

  I stand up and pace to the kitchen area, grabbing the heaviest can I see. It’s a big chunky family-size soup can, almost so big I can hardly get my hands all the way around it. I turn to Maria and Toto, holding it up.

  “We can use these. We’ll hit them and then…”

  Maria shakes her head. “They have guns. They have the numbers. We’re done, Lucy. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll try to get the worse of it. I’ll try to protect you. Getting to know you – even if it’s been such a short time – it’s been one of the greatest pleasures of my life.”

  I return to her, dropping the can. It feels so puny and useless in my hand anyway.

  I slink onto the bed and huddle close to her, sharing her heat, hopefully sharing some of her bravery.

  Then the blowtorch stops.

  The hisses stop flying into the air.

  “What’s happening?” I whisper.

  “I don’t know,” Maria says.

  Franco’s voice rises. “What’s happening? Why did you stop?”

  “Boss, the patrol has stopped responding on the walkie.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I don’t know. They’re supposed to check in every five minutes.”

  “I fucking know that,” Franco roars. “Go and see what’s happening.”

  “It’s Luca and Aldo,” Maria says from beside me, her voice turning fierce. “They’re here. They’re going to save us.”

  I want to claw onto her confidence, but I can’t let myself hope – dream – that my man is going to ride in and rescue me. She could be wrong. Maybe their walkie-talkie ran out of batteries.

  “Well, go and see what the fuck is going on.” Franco’s voice rises in anger, his rage simmering beneath the surface of his words, barely restrained. “If Luca is here…”

  “He’s here, you motherfucker.”

  My heart sprouts wings and flaps with starlight through my body when I hear Luca’s voice, certain and confident and powerful. Even through the door, even separated by Franco and his men and the small passage, he sounds like a lion roaring victoriously over his place in the jungle.

  “Fuck,” Franco says.

  “Fuck is right.” Luca’s voice gets louder, making the rage that simmered in Franco’s sound like the petulant cries of a little boy. “I know it’s a cliché, Franky, old boy… but we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

  “What if I tell my men to start shooting, eh?”

  “They’ll refuse. Because they know if I’m here, this is over. They know this place is surrounded by my men. They know they’d be slaughtered right away and they’d never see their families again. Or they could leave now and instead of the bullet or a cage, they’ll get a chance to leave the city and never come back.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Franco whines, but it’s too late.

  I stand and walk on steadier legs toward the door, stopping when the heat of the burning metal brushes against my skin. Franco is making floundering noises like he’s sinking and he doesn’t know how to react.

  He sounds like a man on the verge of choking.

  “So now it’s just me and you,” Luca growls, close enough I feel as though I could reach out and touch him. “How do you want to play this? Prison or execution?”

  “Luca… I can pay you. I’ve got a lot of money. What do you want? I got girls. I got drugs. I got whatever you need. Come on. Be reasonable.”

  “You think you can bribe me with women and drugs and money? I’ve got the best woman in the world, you moron, a woman who makes taking drugs seem like a waste of time. Because she’s my fucking drug. And money? Look around, you dumb fuck. I’ve got enough money to support my family for the next ten generations.”

  I let out a cry of emotion, my heartbeat stampeding in my chest, hammering heavily and making every part of me buzz and rejoice and sing in triumph.

  “Prison,” Franco says, a sob in his voice. “Fucking hell… I choose prison.”

  “Smart man,” Luca snarls. “Now up against the wall and put your hands behind your back.”

  I turn and share a beaming smile with Maria. She gazes back with tears in her eyes, glittering on her cheeks.

&nb
sp; We’re safe.

  Luca did it.

  He’ll always protect me.

  I can’t believe I ever doubted him.

  I’m his and he’s mine.

  Forever.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Luca

  I sit in the passenger side seat, cresting the hill the same way we did when this all started. Except for this time the sun is setting instead of rising, turning everything rose-red. Aldo sits beside me, a rictus grin on his face.

  After we returned to the estate and handled Franco, we had to act quickly to make sure we solidified our hold over the city. We had to spread the news of Franco’s death and bring his businesses under our control. We had to choose captains to take over his pieces of the city.

  We’ve been driving from meeting to meeting like madmen, much of it with Ottavio driving behind us, lending credit to our claim.

  And all the while I’ve been thinking about my Lucy.

  It hurt to leave her after what happened, but it was necessary, not just for the family, but for my family… for Lucy and the children we’re going to bring into this world.

  I arranged for fifty of my trusted men to sit outside her bedroom until I returned home, ready to slay any man stupid enough to attempt to take her from me again… and I arranged for her to check in every thirty minutes, a text to let me know she’s safe.

  It was all overkill. With Franco gone – he’s already being processed by the Feds – nobody is ever going to try to hurt her again.

  But leaving her was like leaving a piece of my heart behind, still beating.

  We shared one kiss once the bunker door was open, sudden and effusive, the sort of kiss that makes a man want to forget about his responsibilities. I pressed her against me and had to stop before I turned into a beast and mauled her.

  “Stay with me,” she whispered.

  “I want to. More than anything. But innocent people will die tonight if I don’t clean up the mess he left behind. Women and children might die in the power struggle. I have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “Then you should go,” she said firmly, staring at me with the hard confident eyes of a mafia queen.

  She’s transforming already. And I feel blessed to watch it.