Long Live the King (An Italian Mafia Romance Duet #2)

by Ws Greer

  Long Live the King

  Copyright © 2016 by WS Greer

  First edition published by Book Mode Publishing 2016

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Publishers Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by:

  Robin Harper, Wicked by Design

  www.facebook.com/WickedByDesignRobinHarper

  Interior Design and Formatting by:

  Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable

  www.perfectlypublishable.com

  Table of Contents

  LONG LIVE THE KING

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  More From WS Greer

  Dominic Collazo

  “Good evening, Mr. Collazo.”

  “Good evening,” I reply to the young waitress as we cross paths. She smiles to keep my attention, but I’m not interested in all of that. I’m focused on the task at hand, so I quickly break eye contact and head to the elevator. I press the button and wait. It’s coming down from the fiftieth floor, so it’s going to be a while.

  While I wait for the elevator to reach me, a smile teases my lips. I’m happy, and sometimes I can’t help smiling. Everything has been going very well over the past year since I became boss of the Giordano Family. From a business standpoint, things have never been better. I dropped every racket I had and started focusing my attention on the five hotels I run, especially River City and Lumiere Place. Since then, I haven’t heard a peep out of St. Louis PD or the FBI. No surprise there, because they can’t pinch a guy whose name isn’t involved with anything illegal. So, fucking with me would be a big, fat waste of time. They’re all sitting around with their heads and thumbs up their asses, wondering where to look for the bad guys. Meanwhile, the Family is flourishing.

  A few days after my predecessor, Leo Capizzi, made me the boss, I picked my best friend, Tommy “Two Nines” Caprio, to be my underboss. This guy has done an amazing job of keeping unwanted attention away from me, while still pushing my agenda out to everybody in the Family. Tommy’s my go-to guy, fuhgeddaboutit. Anytime I need something done, Tommy is right there to take care of business, no questions asked. His loyalty is amazing, and I trust that guy with my life. Between Tommy, Frankie, and myself, the Family is a well-oiled machine.

  Frankie Leonetti is my consigliere, and even though we had some drama a while back, he’s been a great advisor since I became the boss. He and I were able to put the bullshit about Alannah and my beef with the Russian aside and focus on doing what’s right for the Family, and I knew I’d need his wisdom in helping me deal with some of this stuff. I mean, I’m only twenty-seven years old, I have an entire criminal organization working for me, and I’m not so naïve as to think I don’t need help in this. Plus, I needed to smooth things over with Frankie, so I called on him the first time I needed to make a tough decision regarding the Family, just to show him there were no hard feelings. I’m in this thing for the long haul, all of us are, and we know we need each other. That’s why we work so well together, and that’s why the Family is doing so well. Last year was the biggest we’ve ever had financially. There’s no stopping the Family with the three of us at the helm.

  The Giordano family runs most of inner-city St. Louis now. We’ve taken control of countless businesses, and we have more rackets than I care to think about. I let the captains deal with all of that stuff, and I just make sure they all kick up like they’re supposed to, when they’re supposed to. We’ve taxed the hell out of the highways and inbound trucks, so nothing comes into the city without paying a tax or giving us a cut in, and since the situation with the Russian kid ended, the streets have been quiet. We’ve got no beefs brewing. There’s nothing but power and money, and I thank Leo every time I visit him in prison for picking me to be his successor. Leo’s happy, the Commission is happy, and the Family is happy. Everything is good with business, but the thing I’m happiest about has nothing to do with the Family.

  The elevator finally reaches me and I step inside. As I push the button to go to the basement, I think about Alannah. My Alannah. My life with her is the most important thing in the world to me. She’s the only person I’m emotionally connected to, and she’s the only thing I put before the Family, but the best thing about Alannah is that she doesn’t ask me to. She knows I have a job to do, and she doesn’t stick her nose in the Family’s business. She plays her role as my queen, and she looks damn good doing it. I swear, the woman gets more and more beautiful every day, and I love the look of pride she gets on her face when she sees me. Together, we’re untouchable, and this thing we have can never be broken. I’m the kingpin, and she’s my queen.

  We’re in this.

  Together.

  The words repeat in my head as the elevator reaches the basement and the doors slide apart. In front of me is a narrow, dimly lit walkway with two doors at the end, and before I take my first step onto the concrete, I can already hear the sound of muffled screams. Each step I take brings the cries for help closer and louder, and as I walk, I find myself amused by the sound.

  I knock on the door gently—two subtle knocks, and “Skinny” Joe Cuzamano swings the heavy door open so I can step in, then he quickly closes it behind me. Inside, I lay my eyes on a beautiful scene—my good friend, Charlie Mannello, stands behind two white guys with plastic ties around their wrists and ankles, seated in metal chairs with tape over their mouths, while Skinny Joe stands behind me guarding the door.

  The two bound men have stopped moving altogether, and they’re staring back at me like they can predict the future and they know resisting is pointless now. Both of them are wearing halfway-decent black suits with no tie, and they even look like they might be brothers—dumbass brothers who decided to come to St. Louis to gamble and have a good time, but took it too far. Their faces are bloody and hairless, and they look young, probably in way over their heads. But who gives a fuck about any of that?

  I approach the table and the guy on the left—let’s call him Idiot Number One—starts to tremble with fear. You’d think I was pointing a gun at his face, which is funny because I actually thought to do that on my way down, but decided against it. Charlie moves from his position, his white shirt spotted with blood, and he places a chair in front of me. I take a seat and stare the two idiots in the eyes before smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

  “Do you know who I am?” I begin. Neither of them move a muscle, so I signal for Charlie to remove the tape from their mouths so they have no excuse not to speak up. “Now, let’s start again. Do you know who I am?”

  “N . . . no,” Idiot
Number One stammers. His friend, Idiot Number Two, shakes his head in agreement.

  I smile again. “Good. Things would’ve gone differently if you answered yes to that question. Now, I’m gonna give you the opportunity to explain to me what made you think you could come into my casino and start counting cards.”

  The two idiots look at each other, their eyes wide with the shock of being caught card counting in a casino, but they don’t say anything. It’s like they’re both waiting on the other to speak, and this is exactly the kind of thing I don’t have time or patience for. I look to Charlie.

  His knee comes up with the speed of a whip and lands perfectly on Idiot Number One’s chin. He collapses in a heap just as Charlie turns and punches Idiot Number Two in the jaw with a deadly right cross, sending him crashing to the concrete floor next to his friend—or were they brothers? I never did ask, did I?

  I let out a sigh of satisfaction just as Charlie starts to help Idiot Number One back into his seat. When he gets Number Two settled, I start again.

  “Let’s try this one last time,” I say with a sly smile that quickly fades into a snarl. “What made you think you could come into my casino and start counting cards?”

  “Ah fuck, man, I’m so sorry!” Idiot Number One pleads. “We were just trying to have some fun and make some money. We weren’t trying to hurt anybody. Please don’t kill us, man!”

  “Please don’t kill us!” Number Two chimes in over his buddy. “I don’t wanna die over this. It’ll never happen again, I swear on my mother’s life! Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

  “Okay, shut the fuck up,” I snip. “You’re gonna give me a headache with that noise. Alright, just so we’re clear and on the same page. You admit you were counting cards in my casino?”

  They both slowly nod as if they’re too ashamed to move.

  “Okay, and you’re really sorry about that, right?” I ask, using my kindest, most non-threatening tone.

  “So sorry! We’re both so sorry, man!” Number Two repeats.

  I nod my approval.

  “Okay then. Great. Now, I need you both to pay attention. You don’t know me, and I’d hate for you to get the wrong impression, so it’s important that I’m honest with you. I have half a mind to chop your balls off and shove them in your friends’ mouth while you both bleed to death on the floor. But I don’t feel like getting messy. I will tell you this though; you made a life-altering choice when you decided to come to River City and count cards. Your lives will never be the same because of the choice you made.”

  I stand up, and I can see the worry melting off their faces as they start to believe it’s over—like I’m really just going to let them go. Silly kids.

  “Charlie,” I say as I point to Idiot Number One. “Cut off both of his pinkies,” I command, then I point to Number Two, “and cut off both of his thumbs.”

  “What the fuck!” Number Two shouts, so I give him my undivided attention.

  “Or you can keep your thumbs, and use them to grab ahold of the back of this chair, while my friend shoves the barrel of his gun up your ass and pulls the trigger!” I snap, as I lean forward and look him straight in the eyes. “No lube,” I add, with a wink.

  He doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe.

  I smile.

  “Smart man,” I whisper to him as I stand up and look down on the two of them.

  “Who are you?” Idiot Number One asks, as a single tear slides down his bruised cheek.

  “You better remember it forever,” I say to him as I turn on my heel. “I’m Dominic Collazo.”

  Charlie puts the tape back over their mouths as I turn to make my exit, and Skinny Joe closes the door behind me once I cross the threshold.

  As I head towards the elevator, the muffled screams start up again, and my Cheshire smile returns.

  It’s good to be king.

  Alannah Sullivan

  “Hi, Alannah.”

  “Hey, Jackie,” I reply with a smile. Jackie Patterson gives me a half-hearted grin as she walks by the nurse’s station, her blonde hair bouncing in a tight ponytail behind her. As she passes me, I see her mouth twist into a frown before she turns the corner. My forehead wrinkles with confusion mixed with a dash of frustration as I try to focus my attention back to the chart in front of me.

  It’s been an interesting year. I think the best way to describe it would be to break it up into separate parts: the “good” part, and the “kind of shitty” part.

  The good part is easy to describe. It’s Dominic. Since I moved back to St. Louis, he’s been a part of my life, literally since the day I landed and went to check into my hotel, Lumiere Place—which, of course, Dominic now owns.

  My time here started off with a horribly tense bang that almost sent me to my grave on more than one occasion, but it was Dominic to the rescue. When things almost became too much, my knight in a tailored suit swooped right in and did what he had to do—he saved me, and eagerly put four bullets into my attacker. I try not to think about that particular part of my story, especially because since that moment, everything has been better than I expected it to be. Dominic was made the boss of the Giordano family, and surprisingly, things have been quieter since then.

  When it first happened, I had horror stories in my head that seem so commonplace in this lifestyle, so I was pleasantly surprised when Dominic dropped every illegal racket he had and focused his attention on the casinos he owns. The bullets stopped flying and the money started pouring in. The next thing I knew, life became simpler. We went to dinner—eating for free on multiple occasions, simply because of who Dominic is—we took trips to places I hadn’t ever heard of, and we bought things just because we could. Not that I’m into all the material things that come with being in love with a mob boss, but a girl isn’t turning down diamonds from her man. We’d walk into a restaurant in the city and the manager would clear a table for us. There was even one time when a manager had a table brought in for us because there wasn’t one available. Crazy, right? I went from being an Air Force brat to being the girlfriend of a mob boss, and my head is still spinning from the power Dominic Collazo exudes.

  Even after a year in this life, I still haven’t come down from the high. When I see Dominic walk into a room wearing one of those five thousand dollar suits and all the confidence in the world, it takes all of my concentration just to keep my hands off of him. He owns every room he walks into, and he’s owned me since I was eleven years old. He owned me when I didn’t know it, even when he didn’t know it. I’ve always been his, and our life together is filled with romance, passionate sex, and an aura of invincibility unlike anything I’ve ever known possible. We’re powerful together. No matter what else happens, I know all I really need is Dominic, which makes the “kind of shitty” part of my life a little easier to accept—but still shitty.

  It’s the shitty part that I’ve been dealing with lately, especially with my job. In the last twelve months, I’ve definitely made some friends at the hospital, some of who whom I’ve grown close to, like my best friend, Ally McDermott, who’s also a nurse here. Up until recently I’d say working in Mercy Hospital was pretty normal. But then the whispers started.

  Word started to spread in the halls about me dating Dominic Collazo, and although Dominic has never been a person who craves the spotlight, people tend to have their suspicions about a twenty-seven year old Italian casino owner whose father was murdered in a mob hit in broad daylight. So, sometimes sleazy reporters try to make their way down to River City Casino to get pictures of the young mogul, and when they take those pictures, I’m always the woman on Dominic’s arm. All it took was one nurse opening up her Sunday paper and staring at a snapshot of me and Dominic strutting out of River City arm in arm for the rumors to start flying and people to start treating me differently.

  So, that’s the part I’ve been dealing with the past couple of months, and it’s beginning to wear me down. The stares are starting to work my nerves, the whispers that stop
the second I come around the corner are beginning to irk me, and I’ve had it up to here with the subtle remarks about the mafia and the mentioning of mob movies, like Goodfellas, which is always followed by a quick glance in my direction. What my so-called friends and associates fail to realize is that it’s always been about Dominic and me. Their judgey little eyes and remarks only serve to piss me off, because Dominic is my soulmate, and I don’t need them. I only need him.

  I’ve grown very comfortable with how my life has changed this past year, and maybe it’s some of Dominic’s alpha male attitude rubbing off on me, but I put up with a lot less shit than I did when I was going to college in Alaska. The woman I am now is the polar opposite of the girl who was freezing her ass off in Anchorage. So when Jackie Patterson comes bouncing her way around the corner again, looking at me out of the corner of her eye, I speak up without even thinking about it.

  “Is there something you want to say to me, Jackie?” I ask, as I set my pen down. I lean back in my chair and glare at her as she looks at me with wide, nervous, blue eyes.

  “Umm, no,” she answers after hesitating. “Not really. Why?”

  “Not really? So, kinda-sorta, then?”

  “N . . . no. I just . . . It’s nothing, Alannah.”

  “Then why do you keep looking at me like that? I’ve noticed it more than once today, Jackie, so if you have something you want to say, just spit it out. You’re not doing a good job of keeping your curiosity a secret.”

  She lets out a sigh and her shoulders slump with the weight of guilt. Finally, she approaches the counter and puts her elbows on it for support as she looks down at me.

  “Okay, I don’t mean to pry,” she lies, because she absolutely does mean to pry. “It’s just that I keep hearing rumors that you’re dating a guy who’s in the mafia. Michelle from Optometry told me that you and him actually break guy’s legs together. You know, like, as a couple. A mob couple. A leg-breaking mob couple. I mean, is that, like, true? Is he really in the mafia?”

  Same old crap, just a different day. Jackie is one of our newer nurses, a ditsy twenty-something who has obviously been sheltered by her parents for far too long, so I almost can’t blame her for being so naïve. But that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.