Dirty CEO: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Windy City Bad Boys Book 1)

by Mickey Miller

  Her lashes fluttered as she tried to shutter her gaze. “No.”

  I dipped my head. “Liar,” I said. “You don’t remember those kisses after the game, or the way you moaned and begged for me to touch you?”

  Her teeth sank into her bottom lip and she crossed her arms. “No.”

  Hell, no.

  Casting a quick glance through the front window of the tavern, I grabbed her wrists and dragged her back into the alley with me. She was pinned against the brick and I cornered her even before she had time to scream.

  “You can pretend with them, Kel. But don’t you dare pull that shit with me. Do I need to make you remember the fire between us, and just how badly I wanted you, and you wanted me?” Her lips parted on a quiet gasp.

  She pushed against my chest. Her slim fingers fanned over my dress shirt. “You need to go, Vince. Really. I swear, it seems like you want to get your head shot.”

  My hand slipped down her cheek and curled lazily against the side of her neck. My fingers pressed at her nape, urging her forward. “Why, you sound worried about me.”

  Her eyes darted as if she were looking for a way out. “I’m not. I just don’t want to have to hose your blood off the sidewalk.”

  “Is that all you want?” I didn’t give her a chance to answer. Instead, I showed her why I had truly darkened her door.

  My mouth crashed over hers, and she didn’t deny me. Kel melted against me as if she too had been waiting for and dreaming of this moment since we’d been separated.

  I tangled my hand in her hair, wrapping it around my wrist to hold her in place. Anybody could walk by and see me with Kelly, but it was worth it. For the first time in a long fucking time I was at peace, an emotion that I’d been estranged from since Dad began grooming me to be an enforcer.

  That thought pulled me back. I wasn’t the teenager she’d known. I was a veritable stranger, and I shouldn’t—couldn’t—be pawing at her on the stoop just out of sight of her family.

  Kelly pressed her fingers to her trembling lips. They were kiss bruised, her fair skin reddened by my constant five o’clock shadow. Those blue eyes of hers which slayed me were wide and hazy. “This isn’t over, Kel. Even if I leave right now, this isn’t over. When I call for you, you will come.

  She lifted her chin and held my gaze. Her voice was a wispy oath that made my dick harden in an instant. The things I wanted to make her say in that quiet, breathless way. “Just because you kiss me you think you can order me around? There’s nothing more to talk about, Vince. Please leave.”

  I was already on borrowed time. If I waited any longer her brothers would come out shooting. Shit, I hadn’t gotten her to agree to visit me, despite sweetening the pot with that toe-curling kiss. Frustration percolated through my body, but I let her loose. I stuffed my hands in my pocket and went to join Sal and Luca. Just in time, too. Because Pops, Tommy, and Frankie were shooting murderous glares my way as I walked past the Pub.

  The next day, Pops showed me to the liquor storage room at Kelly’s Tavern that had been formally converted. He’d spruced it up to be my new “office,” although it looked more like a dungeon with its gray stucco walls that God knows who thought were in good taste.

  With a warm smile, he pulled out the worn wooden chair nestled beneath the desk. “Kel, I can’t express how happy I am that you are going to be contributing to the family business now. You’re going to make us all proud, and that’s what’s important. Family first.”

  “Thanks.” Did he hear how enthused I was? I took a seat in the chair and spun part way around in it, holding my ever-neutral smile in place.

  Pops was eager to get me started keeping the books for our bar. It was going to be my job to figure out where we could launder the extra cash the Irish Mob was taking in from all of their “extracurricular activities.”

  A.K.A. ‘putting the old Notre Dame education to real world use,’ as my family liked to say. Hell, with the amount of student loan debt I had, you might have thought I went to medical school. Doing a bit of dirty accounting for the family business would be a breeze.

  I leaned back in my chair as my father shuffled through a battered filing cabinet against the wall, my mind wandering. During my upbringing, Pops never gave me direct advice. But in the car on the ride to college, he’d said two things that I’d never forgotten.

  “Kelly, you’re gonna do great at Notre Dame. Just remember, family first.”

  “Of course,” I’d nodded.

  “Oh, and Kelly. I don’t mind if you have a few drinks in college. I’m not naïve enough to think my daughter won’t. But don’t touch the white stuff. Cocaine destroys lives.”

  I’d gulped and nodded, anxious to get the hell out of the car and out from under his watchful eye. Still, since my dad had never made a demand like that, I figured he had a good reason. While a lot of my rich kid friends partied like rock stars, I never touched the stuff. Cocaine was a hell of a drug, and with his warning ringing in my ears, I knew better than to even look at it.

  “Kel. Kel?”

  I spaced back in to realize I had drifted off into a daydream right in front of my dad. “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking.”

  “Oh. Well, I was saying. You’ve always been the brains of the family. You’ve got your mother’s smarts, that’s for sure. And I’ve got a feeling trouble’s brewing. A man like Vince LaRosa doesn’t come into an everyday joint like this unless he’s sizing up the place. It’s got to be some kind of sign. The working theory is that maybe he’s looking to tip off the feds. If they come around, our income flow needs to be airtight. You understand, don’t you, sweetie?”

  “I understand,” I nodded, curving my lips into a pleasant smile to neutralize my heart. It raced at any mention of Vince. “The first thing we need to do is bring Kelly’s Tavern into the twenty-first century with new accounting software to make all of our lives easier. I’ll let you know when I have questions.”

  “That’s my girl,” he said as he put a hand on my shoulder. “Your mother would be so proud of you if she could see you today. Now, I must attend to some business with the boys. Let me know if you have any questions.”

  With that, he walked out of the room and shut the door. A window the size of a couple of dinner plates, side by side, was the only natural light let in, and suddenly, a touch of depression crept in. I was very alone.

  Family first, I reminded myself as I powered up my laptop. The irony wasn’t lost on me that much of our money was made from selling the one drug that my father advised me not to partake in. A drug that was known to kill families and splinter them into the wind. Throughout my childhood, I’d been lucky having such a close-knit family, but I was presently feeling choked.

  I looked up at the tiny window and my pipedream of moving to California flashed through my mind. Thinking of the west coast and the beautiful people who lived there made me think of something else, though. Someone else. He was beautiful, and way outside of my league.

  Vince had been in my dreams last night. The more I tried not to think about him, the harder it was to shake him. God, he was sexy. I had a fantasy about the two of us being alone in the bar, and him leaping over it and pinning me against the wall, spreading his strong hands all over my body. When we’d been kids, my fantasies of him had never been this hot.

  My denial had been shaky in part because of that damn fantasy. He said it wasn’t over and he’d call for me. I had no idea how he’d even contact me. Cell phones seemed too risky for contact. Although Pops was technologically challenged, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the extended family was keeping tabs on the incoming and outgoing calls to make sure we weren’t getting too friendly with the enemy. If they only knew how close I had been to ‘the enemy’ yesterday.

  I tried not to let my mind drift to Vince and that kiss, but I was obsessed with it, replaying the sensation of his tongue parting my lips.

  Somehow, hours passed as I uploaded invoices into the new software. I was ready for a break. I was about
to open the door leading from my “office” to the bar when I heard a man’s booming voice.

  “Tommy, we gotta just take them out! Strike back! I’m telling you if we don’t stand up now, this shit is only gonna get worse.” I recognized the voice as Kyle “Itchy Finger” Brennen. He was in his late twenties, and I’d known him growing up. In my honest opinion, he had a screw or two loose. His momma must have dropped him on his head as a baby, that was the only explanation. Still, he was one of the fam so we listened to his opinion.

  “Kyle, now, you know what I think about the fucking turf war,” Pops said. “I agree—I think we’ve gone soft lately. But that doesn’t mean we need to go on a killing spree. I say we just flex a little muscle. No bloodshed necessarily, but just hit them where it hurts. Blow out one of their secret bases they don’t think we know about. One of the so-called meat factories, which everyone knows is just a cover for the blow they are shipping in.”

  I held my ear to the door, and my heart thumped hard against my ribs. I found it a little ironic that the men expected me to keep the books, while they wouldn’t even let me in on the whole story behind what we were selling. Good thing I seemed to have a penchant for figuring out secrets.

  “Perfect,” Tommy interjected. “You got that, Kyle? Let’s not get too itchy on the draw, see.”

  There was a long pause before Itchy Fingers finally spoke again. “I’ll go easy this go-round. But if this keeps up—”

  I must have been leaning top heavy into the door with my ear because the next thing I knew the damn thing swung open with a clank and I tumbled into the bar area. I grabbed onto a nearby table for balance but couldn’t avoid falling. The three men turned, realizing I was sprawled flat on the stained floor. Tommy ran toward me.

  “Sis, you alright? What happened?”

  “I, um, feel a bit dizzy,” I lied. “We need to get some more lighting in that back room—and maybe some plants. I don’t like being cooped up in there.”

  “Aww, honey,” Pops put his hand out to help me up. “That’s a great idea. I’ve already ordered some flowers, and they should be here this afternoon. But we can head to the nursery and pick up a few more items. I’m sorry, I should have thought of that.”

  I was back on my feet, feeling as if I’d grown an extra head with how the three men were staring at me. “Why don’t we ask her?” Kyle said.

  “Ask me what?” I quipped reactively.

  Pops and Tommy both squinted and shot Kyle a funny look, their faces slightly red.

  “Ask what we were talking about earlier. Why the hell do you think a guy like Vince LaRosa is coming into a joint like this? Say, I was there last night, and you were the one who invited him in, weren’t you? Yeah, you waved him in!”

  I blushed, my cheeks matching the ruddy hue of my brother and father. We were all fair-haired gingers, which turned our blushes neon. I did my best not to stutter. “I have no idea why he would come into a place like this. But I thought we might as well let him have one drink, keep the peace. Maybe he’s turning over a new leaf.”

  Tommy crossed his arms. “A new leaf? Yeah, right. That’ll never happen. The Irish-Italian feud goes back over one hundred years in Chicago, back to prohibition. It’ll never end, trust me. We can only hope that it’s not one of us getting shot.”

  I ran a hand through my hair and brushed it behind my ears. “I guess.”

  Pops narrowed his gaze. “You went to high school with Vince, didn’t you?”

  I swallowed, hoping none of them could see how hard my heart was pounding. “Uh, yeah. I guess so. He was older than me, though, so we didn’t interact much.” Except when our lockers were on the same floor, and I may have doodled his name in my notebook a couple of times. There might have been some linking of my first name with his last, and a heart…or three.

  “Does he have any weaknesses that you know about or heard about? Anything we might be able to exploit?”

  I breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that they weren’t accusing me of wanting to be with him—I was totally self-projecting that onto the situation. I thought for a moment.

  “Well, when we were on the bus going to school together, he always raved about how much he loved his mom?” As soon as it came out, I realized how stupid that must have sounded, so I tried to explain myself further. “I mean to say, he would always talk about how his mom was the best cook in the world and that’s why he was so good at wrestling in high school. Because he ate a lot of rice-filled meatballs. Arancinis, I think they’re called? I don’t know—it’s one of the few things I remember about him back then.”

  What the hell was I even saying? I couldn’t think straight when it came to Vince. I took off my glasses, breathed on them, and proceeded to pretend to be wiping a bit of grease off them with my shirt. Anything to take their minds way from the way my cheeks were surely reddening right now.

  Pops shook his head. “Guy loves his mom and her cooking? Well hell, honey. That’s not exactly useful blackmail.”

  “We could take out his mom,” Itchy Fingers suggested.

  Tommy and Pops shot him a dirty look. Even they had their limits, and killing a man’s mother? Well, at least they were drawing a damn line in the sand at that.

  “Alright, alright. We’ll think of something else,” Itchy Finger threw his hands up. “I gotta get going anyhow. We’ll talk over the details of the attack soon.”

  “I’ve gotta run, too,” Tommy added.

  Tommy and Itchy Fingers left. Pops followed them and was halfway out the door when he spun back inside.

  “By the way, Kelly Bree.”

  My hair stood on end that he would say my middle name. He almost never used it. “Yes?”

  “Be careful, now that you’re back home. I know I don’t have to tell you that. Oh, and I almost forget, I was speaking with Mrs. Cooney last night, and her son Greg is back in town from college, too. Nice boy. We were thinking the two of you could get together for a date sometime.”

  I barely swallowed a groan. Damn. Why was he bringing that up again? “Oh, Pops, thanks but—”

  “Oh, please, no buts. Just indulge your old man on this one. It’s old-fashioned, but there’s no better way to find a good, quality man than through a family friend. What’s that thing you young people are using now—Tinder? Think of this as…the original Tinder, matchmaking compliments of your parents.”

  I laughed a little at his attempt at humor, even if I was dying a little inside. Did he even know what Tinder’s true purpose was? “Okay,” I said with noted reluctance.

  He smiled and left. Hearing Pops talk about setting me up stressed me out to no end. It reminded me that I hadn’t yet told him of my plan to go to California and act. I hated keeping things from him, but I was scared of how he’d react.

  I ran my hands through my bangs, fluffing them slightly before tucking them behind my ears. I needed a drink and it wasn’t even two p.m. yet. Normally I didn’t have even a drop while I was on my shift, but today I decided to grant myself a free pass. One of the benefits of working at a bar, was, of course, the free booze.

  I poured myself a black and tan, half Guinness, and half Bass ale. It had been my mom’s favorite drink while she was still alive, and now it was mine.

  Halfway through my drink and deep in thought, I was startled by a knock on the door. Instinctively, I grabbed for the gun we kept behind the register. We wouldn’t be officially open for another three hours. I approached the door slowly, my forefinger crooked over the trigger guard.

  When I looked through the peephole and saw a delivery boy standing with an arrangement of flowers, I breathed a sigh of relief. Of course—Pops had mentioned they’d be coming by. I tucked the gun in the back pocket of my jeans and knocked myself on the head. “Silly girl,” I whispered.

  When I opened the door, the man had already gone. He was already to his truck, and the bouquet was on the sidewalk.

  I picked them up and inhaled. Blue irises were an interesting choice. I was about to fir
e off a text to Pops thanking him, but when I read the note attached I was thankful I hadn’t.

  I told you I wouldn’t quit, and I’m going to make it easy for you to see me. Come to the Biograph Theater this Friday at 6:30. Make up an excuse. It’s on the north side of the city, so it’ll be neutral territory. No one will know. I need to see you.

  -V

  P.S. The color of these flowers reminds me of the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. Can you guess who they belong to?

  A chill went through my entire body, which wasn’t right for a sunny spring day. A part of my body heated up that hadn’t been attended to in months. A delicious tingle lodged between my thighs and zipped over my nerves.

  Something seemed fishy, though. I didn’t know what Vince wanted so desperately to talk to me about. We’d been part way between a high school crush and a fling. There was that time my senior year when he’d come back to see me in the encore performance of Grease, sure. But couldn’t he just let it go? We were older now. That was years ago.

  The man didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and I had to admit I was quite flattered. The Biograph was currently playing my favorite musical—one to which tickets were just about impossible to purchase. Vince knew my weak point.

  I brought the flowers inside, set them on the bar, and considered whether or not I should risk being seen in public with Vince as I sipped the rest of my black and tan.

  Kelly would be receiving the flowers right about now. Would she love them, or hate them?

  Walking into the florist had caused Sal to lose his shit. He knew who I was shopping for, and it was only by the grace of the saints that he’d held his tongue. No girl had been worth flowers before. Then again, there wasn’t anyone like her. Period.

  I’d spent far too long deciding on what to get her. Roses were cliché. Sunflowers too bright. Fuck, maybe she wasn’t a flower type of girl at all. She hadn’t changed since high school. Back then she’d been a tomboy, just one of the guys throwing her swagger alongside her four brothers. Instead of being a cheerleader, she’d slugged softballs with the best of ‘em. Kelly was no delicate flower.