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

by Mickey Miller

  But the events at 2122 North Clark street on February 14, 1929, trumped even that. It wasn’t the start, or even the middle, of the feud between the Italians and the Irish. There had been other bloody battles. It should have been another footnote to the violence which brewed between the Mob and the Mafia. But It had gone down on a day devoted to love, in public, and in the most brutal fashion. It was still talked about almost ninety years later. While the city had torn down the wall that seven of Kel’s Irish ancestors had been murdered against decades prior, people claimed that stretch of real estate was haunted. Especially some of the more superstitious and elderly people.

  And right across the street from that very spot, the same spot that served as the ‘stage’ for the massacre was the restaurant Kel wanted to go to—the Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder Co, a new landmark birthed like a phoenix from the ashes of notoriety and villainy. CPOG embraced the infamy which brought the Valentine’s Day Massacre into the subconscious of the modern tourist and Chicagoan. It was a story told with every new slice of pie made.

  I just shook my head. “You’re not playing around are you, sweetheart?”

  Maybe it was kind of fitting. Capone and the Irish had warred over booze during prohibition. Now, I was fighting with her brethren over drugs and occasionally guns.

  Her eyes held a gimlet of gleam in the theater’s low lights. “Both sides need to remember how bad it was if things are going to change. Us being together is one statement. Coming out in public there. Well, that’s another.”

  Fuck, I could fall for this girl. There was no one in the world like her. No one who could understand the stress which came from both heritage and expectations.

  I carried our clasped hands to my mouth and laid a soft kiss on her knuckles. The connection growing between us strengthened, carrying a fission of excitement throughout my whole body. When I spoke again, my voice held a growl. “Your chariot awaits.”

  Kelly shivered subtly and tucked her hand into the crook of my arm. When we stepped out onto the street, she’d ditched her over-sized sunglasses and allowed all to gaze on her freckled face.

  I was notorious, and soon, soon she would be infamous.

  “Is everyone looking at us, or is it my imagination?” Kelly leaned against the chest-high table and sent a covert glance toward the patrons packed inside the restaurant.

  The air was saturated with the familiar scents of garlic and oregano, causing my stomach to let loose an appreciative rumble. There was one true way to an Italian man’s heart, and that was most definitely through his stomach.

  “There are a few. You’re in my territory now,” I said.

  The waitress had already been by to take our order. Instead of a classic deep dish, we were going rogue. The Grinder had something called a pizza pot pie, kind of like a round stromboli or maybe a sauce-and-topping-filled bread bowl. It was massive, and we’d chosen to split it and an antipasto salad as an appetizer.

  Kelly peeled the label off her beer bottle, leaving paper litter all over the table. That was the only outward sign of her nerves, and I found it strangely endearing. It was also a sign of her sexual frustration. I just hid my own better. What was her history? I didn’t want the dirty details, but had she found a lover while away at college? Did she prefer a rough touch or gentle seduction?

  The thought of Kelly beneath me, pinned by my body, and skewered on my cock had me shifting in my seat. I wasn’t quite pitching a tent, but if I didn’t control my thoughts my dick wasn’t going to stay down.

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” she said as she tore another strip away.

  I reached across the table, nudging the green Amarcord bottle aside, and grabbed her hands. I’d been surprised she’d chosen an Italian beer, but pleased, too. Not only was she preaching the message of unity, she was physically drinking the Kool-Aid.

  She blinked up at me, focusing her light-colored eyes on me. “Nothing will happen to you. I promise.”

  Kelly gave me a half smile and relaxed against the high-back pine bench. I didn’t remove my hand from hers, especially when I caught the sudden double-look a guy down the table gave us. We were on stage now, and I needed to continue the full court press that Kelly was my girl.

  “There is something I want to discuss.” I kept my voice low. What I had to say was only for her ears, but it looked good. It looked like we were having an intimate conversation, the sort lovers had where the world faded away and nobody else existed.

  “That sounds serious.”

  “It’s not. Only, for the duration of this,” I nodded my head toward our intertwined hands. “We can’t be seen with other people; that would break the illusion. That means no boyfriends for you.”

  Her lashes fluttered, and a light blush gathered across her cheeks. “You don’t really have to worry about that.”

  Curiosity churned through me. By that blush, I might almost suspect… I shook my head. “I know you’ve only been back a short while. You haven’t had the time to find a boyfriend?”

  “Pops is trying to hook me up with the son of a friend. He’s a traditionalist.”

  “The ol’ family intermingling and Irish breeding like rabbits. He’s probably your third cousin.”

  Kelly narrowed her eyes at me and flicked a scrap of paper at me. “Don’t you preach on your high horse, Mr. LaRosa.” She stressed my name, my very traditional, very Italian name. “If you think you’re pure-blood you have to know there’s most likely some kinks in your family tree, too.”

  “I have quite a few kinks up my sleeve, if you catch my drift,” I smirked, taking another swig of my drink.

  She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. God, is your mind always this dirty? If so, I might have to pull out.”

  “I’m not even going to say it,” I smiled again. We both cracked up. I watched the corners of her lips shift upward. She had a dirty mouth and she didn’t even know it. Or did she? Despite the innocence she seemed to convey, I was beginning to feel there was a side of hers I didn’t get to see. Maybe no one did.

  My hands tightened around Kelly’s, shifting them so that we were truly holding hands. My tone changed from light to serious. “So, you agree on exclusivity between us. No muddying the waters or the message?”

  She brushed her long bangs behind her ear and dipped her head. “Yeah, that won’t be a problem.”

  Her dry tone twitched my eyebrow. There was a story there. My question was interrupted as the waitress arrived carrying the antipasto platter. Begrudgingly, I withdrew my hands.

  Kelly shifted a small plate in front of her and scooped a forkful of olives, salami, and banana peppers onto it. “How do you plan on contacting me, by the way? More messages and demands via flower delivery?”

  “You don’t have a phone?”

  “I do, but it’s on Pops’s plan. He might get pissed and cancel it when he finds out about you.”

  “True.” I popped a piece of pepperoni into my mouth and chewed. “We need a contingency plan.”

  Kelly’s brow rose. Her mouth was full of meat and she couldn’t speak. Instantly my thoughts went vulgar, thinking about another sort of meat I could slide between her pink lips.

  Fuck. I’d just calmed my cock and it was stirring again.

  “I’ll get you a phone. Something pink and sparkly.”

  Kelly narrowed her eyes and brandished her fork at me. After swallowing, she growled at me. “Don’t you dare.”

  For the first time in what seemed like a long time, I laughed.

  Whatever the future held, the next few months with my fake girlfriend were going to be a wild ride.

  My family’s house in River Forest, a nearby suburb of Chicago, was built in the early 1900s. It was big enough to house myself, Pops, and my three brothers who still lived there with ease.

  Its age also meant, unfortunately, that the stairs creaked with every step.

  When I shut the door and turned around, Pops was sitting on the couch. He chewed on a stogie while an old time
, black and white TV show played mindlessly in the background.

  He stood up to greet me with a tired smile. “Hi, honey. How was girls’ night?”

  “It was fun. We had some pizza, caught up on gossip,” I said before kissing him on the cheek. My chest burned with anxiety now over mine and Vince’s agreement. I had to tell him here and now. If I didn’t, he’d find out from some third-party source, and it would seem like I was hiding our relationship.

  “And who was that dropping you off just now? A limo? I didn’t know your friends had come into money.”

  “It was an Uber black. You know, you can request a town car,” I fibbed. Vince insisted on driving me all the way home in his limo. I knew I should have gotten out a block from my house and walked.

  He examined my face for a moment. “I don’t like you getting into cars with strangers. You know I would have picked you up if you called.”

  “I know, Pops. I’m twenty-four now, though. I can handle myself in the city.”

  “Of course you can. I know that. It’s just—there’s trouble brewing. I can feel it in my bones. Those damn mobsters. Vince LaRosa has something up his sleeve, I just know it.”

  I swallowed hard. “Pops. I have something to tell you.”

  He ignored my words and stared out the window. “I don’t think I could live with myself if something happened to you with one of those damn dagos. They’re evil incarnate. Oh, I’m sorry. Were you saying something?” He flicked his gaze back to me.

  “I was just going to say…that I can’t wait to save up my money so I don’t have to live at home.”

  “Honey, you still have student loans to pay. I know you want to move out, but you take as long as you need to live at home. Got it?”

  I nodded and took a deep breath. Tomorrow seemed like a great day to tell him about Vince and me. Not just right now.

  The sun rose the next day, and I headed to Kelly’s Tavern to check on everything. Since Megan had covered my shift last night, no one had done inventory. and apparently, things had gotten saucy. We’d gone through twice the amount of liquor we’d went through the previous Friday.

  Yes, something strange was in the air this summer. Vince mentioned it. Pops had, too. Now I was beginning to feel it as well.

  At a quarter past noon, there was just myself in the bar and Steve, one of the regulars who’d been coming in at twelve on the dot every Saturday for the past few years. He was in his fifties, with glasses and thinning hair. A harmless drunk, he’d become as much of a staple in the bar as the photo of the cliffs of Duneen was on the wall behind the bar.

  I was chatting with Steve when there was a knock on the door. A short man with darker features held a paper bag. “You Kelly?”

  “Who is asking?”

  “I believe you ordered a big sausage sandwich.” He raised an eyebrow and tried to hand me the bag.

  “I didn’t order anything,” I said, shaking my head.

  “If you don’t mind me saying so, it would be very advantageous to you to take this bag. The sausage is delicious and its contents may surprise you. Here.”

  Reluctantly I opened the bag. It smelled damn good, but inside there was also something pink. I reached in and pulled out a cell phone.

  I couldn’t help but quirk a smile. “That son of a bitch.” The delivery man tipped his head and was off, apparently satisfied.

  Just like Vince had said, the cell phone had pink sequins glued around the outside ring. It looked like it probably belonged to a fourteen-year-old girl. He knew I’d always been more of a tomboy than a girly girl, and I was getting the feeling he might enjoy toying with me.

  I clicked the phone on as I walked back into the bar and watched the screen load up.

  “Hey, Steve, you want some sausage?” I chided, tossing the bag onto the bar.

  “You don’t want it?”

  “Not hungry right now. You can have it.”

  “What kind?”

  “Italian.” He eyed me suspiciously as he opened the bag.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” he said strongly, closing the bag. I was a little taken aback since Steve rarely acted strongly toward anything. “I don’t patronize those shops.”

  “Why not?”

  Steve took a big swig of his Bud Light and slammed the empty can down on the bar stool. “I just don’t.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. Did I somehow miss all this thinly veiled yet rampant xenophobia growing up?

  I opened Steve another beer without him asking and put it in front of him. “I guess I’ll take the sausage then.”

  “No, I’ll eat it,” he said, grabbing the bag away from me.

  I guess hunger can overcome narrow-mindedness.

  A text popped up, and I wrote back. I swear I could see Vince chuckling as I tried navigating my brand new, pink iPhone.

  Vince: How do you like it?

  Kelly: The sausage? I gave it away.

  Vince: The phone, silly.

  Kelly: I love the pink. I’ll totally fit in when I become a valley girl in Cali OMG.

  Vince: It suits you, though.

  Kelly: You know that’s not true. I’ve always been more of a serious nerd, not a girly girl.

  Vince: Keep telling yourself that. You looked sexy af in that romper last night.

  Kelly: Is this fake boyfriend chat? Or are you being serious right now?

  The dots moved for a few moments.

  Vince: I figure we had better get into our roles 24/7 if this is really going to work.

  Kelly: Fine. Well, you didn’t look so bad yourself, handsome.

  Vince: What did your dad say when you broke the news.

  Kelly: About that…

  Vince: Please. You can’t back out. Are you serious?

  Kelly: I’ll tell him as soon as I see him. Really.

  Vince: The sooner the better. Trust me.

  Our little text thread was interrupted when a skinny young man with brown hair came into the bar.

  “Hi,” I smiled, putting a coaster out for him. “What’ll you have?”

  “You.”

  I swallowed, momentarily confused. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Oh,” he shook his head and his eyes darted back and forth on the bar. “I guess I should back up. I’m Greg.”

  I nodded, slowly. “Nice to meet you, Greg. I’m Kelly.” I reached a hand out to shake his. “Do I know you?”

  “Well, I feel a little awkward now. But my mother and your father—they know each other. And well, they said you might want to—you know. You might want to have a date.”

  I did my best to smile, and not cringe. This guy was barking up the wrong tree in so many ways. I was, as of yesterday, no longer “single.” And even if I wasn’t, Greg was decidedly not my type. I knew that instantly. His mop of unkempt hair fell over his baby face. He looked a little like a stoner rock star.

  Except he wasn’t a rock star. He was an awkward twenty-three-year-old.

  “Well, ah, okay. This is just not the best time for a date, you know because this is my shift and all.”

  “Oh, I know that,” he said cheerily. “I thought I could just come in, keep you company. Say hi! Not many customers around right now anyhow.”

  The young man had the enthusiasm of a puppy dog, and I had to admit it was a little endearing. “Alright, well, how about we have one drink and then call it a day?”

  “Oh, well, when does your shift end?”

  This kid did not take no for an answer. I sighed, grabbed a drink for him, and made myself one as well.

  My phone buzzed on the bar, and I went to pick it up. I had a string of missed texts from Vince.

  Vince: We have our first appearance in public tonight. We’re going to the Jaguars baseball game on the North side of the city.

  Vince: You need to tell your father.

  Vince: Come by my place at five, I will have a dress ready for you.

  Vince: After the game, we’re going out.

  Vince: I’m excited to see y
ou.

  Vince: As a friend, of course.

  Vince: And as a fake girlfriend.

  A warm feeling came over me reading his texts. No man had ever doted over me like this. And if most guys I knew ever sent me a string of six texts in a row without seeing a response from me, I’d probably be weirded out by their neediness. When Vince texted me, though, his power drew me in, even with just his words.

  Greg kept speaking and I kept nodding, pretending I was listening.

  I was really wondering what Vince’s hands would feel like wrapped around my thighs like they had been last night.

  Questions rose in my mind. If we were hanging out at the Jaguars game and I was his new arm piece, how far would we have to take things? Holding hands was a given. Kissing was sure to happen, as well. Would that be all it took?

  Or would we have to take things further?

  I sighed, and opted not to say anything to Greg for the moment about my current, fake boyfriend. Though awkward, the guy was probably harmless. I would just smile, nod, and then he’d get the message soon when the gossip got around town that Vince and I were together.

  I expected Kelly to balk at my high-handedness. When I gave an order, I expected it to happen. She, however, was known for her defiance. So, when she popped over at the condo a few minutes before five, I was pleasantly surprised.

  She could have passed for a teenager in the cut-off shorts, Jaguar’s jersey, and ponytail strung through a green baseball cap. The only thing that separated her from youth, however, was just how teeny her shorts were, showcasing miles of leg, and the flash of skin from her half-unbuttoned jersey. I hadn’t been sure if she’d grown out of her tomboyish, baseball tendencies. She hadn’t. Seeing her now was confirmation of everything I had been thinking over the past day. She’d come into her own over college, just sexed it up.