by Frankie Love
Indecent Protection
A Dirty Kings of Vegas Mafia Dark Romance, Book 6
Frankie Love
Alice May Ball
Indecent Protection
A dark Mafia Romance
* * *
I’ll protect the Mafia princess,
I’ll fight off the mob and her family.
but I’ll take a price.
I’m having her for my own.
* * *
Dear Reader,
Giovani’s sizzling instalove is hard against the rules. Lucky for us, we don’t mind slamming the pedal to the metal. Xo, Frankie and Alice
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
About the Author
About the Author
Chapter One
Giovani
The Hedonism Rooms at the top of the exclusive Havana Cigar Club are one of the best kept secrets in Las Vegas, as well as one of the best kept bars in Las Vegas. They usually have one of the best filled indoor pools, too.
Most nights, especially late, as the nights rock on into morning, this place looks like a scene from a rap video.
One of the scenes they cut out. Too wild and too hot. Too steamy to stream.
Waitresses are more attentive than usual. I can’t say that I mind. They’re all beautiful. Curvy and graceful, and they all have wet lips and a hungry look.
“Giovani,” When Selina serves Negronis to Joey and me, Umberto calls across the table.
“Why are you soaking up all the girls’ attention, Gio?” I know he’s trying to be smart, wanting to break my balls about it, but there’s an edge. “You don’t even take ’em. They give you their numbers and you keep ’em like, in case they need you to help ’em move apartment or something.”
I shrug. “I’m not doing anything.”
As I’m saying it, Selina looks back at me from the far side of the bar. She throws a smoky smile over her shoulder, waving her fingers at me.
Umberto’s eyes narrow. “All the pussy pouts for you.”
His brother Lenny says, “Man, can’t you just take one and fuck her? At least all the others would have to look around once in a while.”
Joey and I shake our heads. Umberto’s hands stretch out, palms up as he looks upward and says, “He doesn’t want them. He just wants to be their fucking uncle.”
“But the good fucking uncle.” Lenny joins in. “The not-fucking kind of fucking uncle.”
Umberto shakes his head, “You’re too good to be true, Giovani.”
Joey explodes and blows half his Negroni. I let out a laugh at that one, too. “Umberto, you know that’s bullshit.” We’re all red-faced laughing and I get us more drinks to make up for what was sprayed.
Selina is only too happy to bring me another tray of drinks. That sets Umberto off again, with Lenny riding shotgun for him. All with the backdrop of girls in string bikinis and less, splashing in the classical Roman style pool.
Joey Calhoun built the club, and he owns it. My best friend since high school, his temperament is like mine. He’s cool about all the excesses and shenanigans, but happy to watch from the sidelines.
We perch on the edge of the room, sipping Negronis in our five-thousand dollar Italian suits, near the big windows and the spectacular view.
Neon sparkles up from the nighttime Strip and the redness of Nevada stretches away beyond like a dark ocean.
The downstairs gaming rooms are tables only. No machines, no slots. And no electronic beep and babble. Cool jazz, mostly from live trios and quartets. The invitation-only clientele Joey has cultivated is up-market and they take their sins seriously.
The hysteria and mayhem in the pool always amuses me. There’s a decadent, limitless, playful innocence about it.
The wild playboy lifestyle is not my style, though. I’m strictly watching from the sidelines.
I’m a senior captain in a major crime family here in Vegas, and I take my responsibilities seriously. While I keep an eye on what goes on, nobody is going to find compromising clips of me.
Not that it could do me any harm. But the family has a reputation and I want to help maintain it. Indiscretions among the Morettis are rare. But if any one of us did want to slip the leash and misbehave, it wouldn’t be in public view. You wouldn’t see pictures in the media.
We rarely take selfies in public places.
It’s a point of pride in our family to avoid media attention altogether. We move under the radar.
Press attention is good for commercial operations, but spotlights on individuals are not what we want for our business. We have front people for that.
But the daughter of a Los Angeles family is an internet ‘influencer.’ Lily Franconi, daughter of Leo Franconi, the head of the family, no less.
I can just imagine what Dad would have said if one of my sisters, or brothers, come to that, had tried the same thing.
So, when Liam O’Malley, the patriarch head of the O’Malley family, said that the Franconis were coming to town for meetings with the O’Malleys, I was surprised Liam asked for me to act as Lily’s bodyguard.
But Dad wants me to do it. The rifts between our family and the O’Malleys have been long and bitter, and we’re only just beginning to get over them. So it’s natural that as soon as Liam asks for a favor, Dad wants to oblige if he can. I only wish this wasn’t the favor.
So, while meetings go on between the top family in Vegas and the out-of-town mob, I’m set to play nursemaid. Not only to a mafia princess, but a bratty one who sees taking selfies as a career.
And I’m bending Joey’s ear about it. Joey and I have an unwritten rule. Anything that really pisses one of us off, we say it. But for a minute and a half, max. That way we can download, we know what’s going on for each other, and we can have each other's backs. But there’s no time for self-pity.
Neither of us have patience for that.
I tell him, “Dad said if I do well with this job, he’s got a ballerina lined up for me to marry.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“Seriously, Joey?” I shake my head. “Aren’t you glad you stepped away from your family’s business? For one, she’s probably just the daughter of some family Dad wants an alliance with. Two, I never even met her. And, three, I’ll decide who I’m going to marry, and when.”
Joey nods.
I say, “I wish Dad would let me have some more responsibility. I want to feel like I’m making a more important contribution to the business.”
“You’re a captain in the family firm. You have responsibility coming out of your ass.”
“I want to be taken seriously. The body guarding gig Dad has me doing is beneath me. It’s glorified child-minding. Babysitting the daughter of a visiting a crime boss doesn’t feel like a leading role. I need to step up, Joey.”
“Okay, I get you.” Joey beckons for more drinks. “Sounds pretty important. But it also seems like something a soldier could be doing.”
“And she’s an influencer, of all things.”
Joey’s eyebrows rise. “A girl in the life?” His mouth tightens. “I felt sorry for you if you’re going to be welded to an influencer. What’s a princess from the life doing courting all that media attention?”
“I know, right? Literally the thing she needs to avoid. And Dad wants me to bodyguard her, as a favor to the O’Malleys and to mak
e an impression on Leo Franconi. I’m being used as a Roflecopter prize.”
“Well, she’ll certainly take you out of your comfort zone.” And he asks, “You’ve watched her videos?”
“No.”
“You weren’t curious to go and look them up?”
“Are you kidding? I saw an influencer once. ‘Look at this car. Nice, right? Watch me drive. Oh, yeah. Look at these clothes. Look at the reality star life I’m living.’ I can write the script. I don’t need to see that again.”
That’s more than enough for my ninety seconds. I move us on. “So. How’s your week, Joey? The big video gamers’ convention is all over town.”
“God, yes. I managed to forget.” He smiles ruefully, “I won’t see much trade from any of that crowd. Maybe some of their backers and lawyers will come in and play.”
“You set your casino and your rooms up especially to avoid that kind of excitable tourist trade.”
“True. And there is a convention of media lawyers.” He lifts his cocktail. “We had a few of those in last night. Some damned fine, smart and sexy attorneys out there, I’m telling you.”
“But you’ll get some business from the adult film convention, won’t you?”
“Oh, man!” He laughs. “I had forgotten about that. And that’s this week as well, right?” He laughs. “Last year, Sparkle Pussy, Sean Python and the Slick Velvet crew were fucking each other over all the tables in the gaming rooms downstairs. Horse Hanson and Ginger Slapz were banging in the craps table. I had to replace all the blue baize throughout the whole casino.” His head shakes. “Fantastic weekend.”
As always, I’m amazed at the index of celebrities Joey carries in his head.
But he says, “What’s really odd is how often you see people who are famous, and no matter how well you know them from the screen, they look completely different from how you expect them to. Something about camera angles.”
“Yeah, and makeup, I guess.” And I remember, “Bruce Willis was in the Stratosphear bar last week. I have no idea how many movies I’ve seen him in, but I walked straight by him. Odd thing was, when I realized, I felt like I’d been rude, not saying ‘hi.’ What’s that about?”
A couple of out-of-towner jocks get loud by the pool. Joey’s watching. Me, too.
One of the jocks reaches to grab Christen, a lovely off-duty waitress. She finished her shift about half an hour ago and loves to chill in the pool with a tequila sunrise before she heads home.
She smiles as she brushes the jock’s hand away. He smiles and moves closer. She shakes her head and backs away from him. He reaches out again. Lurching to grab her.
Joey’s moving in a blur. But I get there first. The jock turns to me as the heel of my hand connects with his forehead. His head goes back, his gut pokes out and I give him a sharp jab under his ribs. His pal leers and takes a swing at me. I slam a hard punch between his eyes and hook his ankle with my foot.
Like the rug flew out, his shoulders hit the floor.
The first jock’s eyes bulge as he charges me, red faced.
I sidestep, toreador style. He passes and I grab his wrist to spin him into the pool.
Bouncers and security are up and with us already. Joey, laughing, holds out his hands.
He tells the jocks, “If you can get out of here in the next thirty seconds, I won’t send the boys to give you the parking-lot dumpster send-off you deserve.”
The jock in the pool and his pal on the floor struggle to their feet. Bouncers and security shake their heads, laughing.
As the jocks shamble out in a hurry, Joey tells the head of security, “I want to know who recommended them for invitation.”
Another night on the Vegas strip.
Chapter Two
Giovani
My phone rings. It’s the call I’ve been expecting from Leo Franconi. A text comes in at the same time, giving me the address of the Astra Bar.
“Lily will be in the Astra Bar.” His voice is low and easy. Relaxed, with a note of a smile. A powerful man, used to getting what he wants. “Look after my daughter. Make sure she is safe. Obviously. Show her a good time. Give her whatever she wants. Keep an eye on her and keep her out of trouble.” He laughs. I’m getting an uneasy feeling about this. He says, “Okay, that’s a pretty tall order.”
The bright tone of a smile is still in the voice as he tells me, “But you’re a smart boy. I can see that. Maybe you can help her to understand that publicity doesn’t help the family business.” I’m thinking, If you brought her up for the whole of her life and you didn’t get that idea across, what the fuck do you think I’m going to do about it?
I can practically hear the weary shrug as he says, “She thinks publicity is a good thing in and of itself. Coverage, as she calls it. Exposure.”
He has a way of leaving silences that makes you uncomfortable, so you want to fill them.
“Well,” I tell him, “if your whole shtick is to be a celebrity, exposure is a good thing.” I’m already wishing I’d stayed quiet. He leaves another gap. But I don’t fill it.
“I knew you were smart. I don’t know about this whole Vegas deal, but you and me, Giovani, we’re going to get along just fine.”
There’s another pause but I resist the urge to speak. It feels like he’s about to hang up. But his voice goes down an octave.
“If you lay one finger on her in an inappropriate place, I’ll feed your cock to you in thin slices. Understand? Capisce?”
Chapter Three
Lily
I don’t see why Daddy wanted me to come here in the first place. Seems like I left all the interesting people behind in Los Angeles.
Maybe he thinks while we’re away from home, he’ll get a chance to apologize and try to get round me. Or worse, try it again. I’ll stab him in the eye if he does. Or maybe somewhere more sensitive.
Meanwhile, I’m here in the town where fun came to die. Damn, these must be the most boring people on Earth. Everywhere I go in L.A., there are movie stars, music stars, fashion icons. Glittering people.
The bar is a cross between a neon ’50s nightmare and a Toys R Us version of what was ‘hip’ about a decade ago. In L.A., all the rich people are beautiful and fascinating. Well, Las Vegas must be where all the dull and ugly rich people come to hide. It’s AWFUL.
Should have guessed it, for a town where the two most interesting things to do are; get married or dress like Elvis.
That guy along the bar, though. Hot diggerty. I’m sure I know his face. Was he in Game of Thrones? The one who was a bodyguard in that hot streaming series? I know him from something, I know I do. I’ll wait until he comes up to me.
I make eye contact.
Nothing.
Is he playing it cool or does he really not recognize me? How come nobody in the town recognizes me? I don’t remember the last time I was in a bar and no-one ran up to take a selfie or came to say something about my last video post.
I think it’s happened to me every single time since I was old enough to be in a bar.
Since I walked in, nobody has bought me or even comped me a drink. I went to the bar, which I almost never have to do in L.A., I ordered a drink, then, I actually had to pay for it. None of the usual, ‘Oh, No, Ms Franconi. No, no, no, Lily. It’s on the house Lily,’ or, ‘allow me, Lily.’ Nobody even called me Lily yet. What the actual fuck?
No-one said, ‘Ms Lily’ all night.
I’ll wait another ten minutes for my supposed bodyguard and I’m out of here. He needs to guard my body. If he’s not here, he’s just going to have to find my body.
I wish it could be someone like that guy. I would be happy for him to guard me with really close security. What’s his name?
I’m going to ask him.
I’m sure he’s a movie star. I can’t be certain what I’ve seen him in, though. Maybe it’s a gangster movie. Something like that. Or one of those stories where the hot guy is doing something illegal, but he gets totally bound up with a fantastic girl.
<
br /> Wouldn’t you know it. The hottest guy in the room, damn, maybe the hottest guy in this town and even he hasn’t recognized me. What’s that about?
It’s all like a bad dream. Doesn’t anyone have the internet on their phone here?
His suit is beautifully cut, but the way fills it should be illegal. Strong thighs and a drum-tight ass, what I can see below the back of the Italian suit coat. Under the jacket, his immaculate white cotton shirt swells loose over his heart-stoppingly deep chest.
Before I look up into his face–I know that black buzz of stubble over the cleft in his chin is worth a look, but the magnets of his eyes will drag me past the razor-sharp cheekbones.
So, first, I’ll sneak a casual glance at the packa… oh. My.
I flash up into his eyes and on the way past, I’m gut punched by a sarcastic tug of triumph on his cruel lips. And my breath catches. His eyes smolder.
They were waiting for me. Watching me. Registering my astonishment at the rock in the front of his pants.
He still doesn’t come across to me. My insides have turned to water. If I tried to walk right now, I would totter like a teenager on her first drinking session.
He’s near enough to hear me ask, “What have I seen you in?”
His eyebrow flexes. “Your dreams, maybe?” That would come off as so fucking arrogant, but he says it with irony, so it’s just a joke. He’s definitely got style.
Feeling silly, I swallow and say, “You’re an actor, right? I know I’ve seen you in some things.”
I chew the inside of my lip.