His: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Citrione Crime Family) Page 7

  “Good,” I say.

  “What now?” she asks.

  She almost looks like she’s hoping I’ll punish her right here in this cubicle. I damn well might, but I’ve got too much on my plate. I’ve already spent way more time dealing with this than I should have. “Now, you lay low, keep doing your job, and—” I glance around to be sure no one’s listening. “You keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.” I raise my eyebrows. “Got it?”

  She nods, large eyes looking up at me more innocently than I can believe now that I know the type of freak she is when her clothes come off. I lean forward and kiss her. I don’t plan to, but I kiss her soft and slow, with more tenderness than I’ve ever kissed a woman. In that moment she feels like something delicate and I feel real fear for the first time in as long as I can remember. I’m afraid of what I will do if anything happens to her, afraid of what it would do to me. When we pull apart, both our faces are flushed. Damn. She’s dangerous. Real fuckin’ dangerous.

  12

  Aubriella

  It has been a week since Vincent came to my office at SportsCast. My thoughts keep returning to those moments in the same way my tongue always wants to prod at a canker sore. It hurts every time I touch it, but I can’t help testing it again and again to see if it still hurts.

  The idea that torments me most is why Vincent has to be who he is. Why can’t I be this magnetically drawn to some guy with a nice, legal job who doesn’t make me feel like my life is on the line every time I’m near him? Why does the sex have to be so incredible that it has me more hooked than a junkie? Just thinking that Vince has so much power over me pisses me off. A lot. Well, either way, I’m not going down the road he wants me to. I saw the way he looked at me before he left my office. He wants me to be his…I don’t know what mafia guys have. Concubines? I’m sure as hell not going to be that. I barely even know him. All I really know is that he’s gorgeous and the sex is great.

  That’s not true though. His eyes and his hands say so much more than most men. He’s a man of action, of no hesitation, of certainty and confidence. His eyes say that he wants to own me like he has probably owned countless women before me, but the occasional tenderness in his touch makes me wonder if I’m not breaking through that careless shell of his and becoming something more to him. The worst part is that I don’t even know if that’s wishful thinking—do I really wish he wanted more from me than just sex? Either way, trying to escape him seems as pointless as trying to escape gravity. The farther I manage to get from him, the faster I’ll fall right back into his arms.

  I knock on the door to my dad’s house. He lives on the lower east side in a studio apartment. The whole building smells like desperation and booze. Just being inside always makes me want to crawl out of my own skin. I don’t know how he stands it here. The door opens to reveal my dad, craggy faced and bleary eyed. He blinks at me and clumsily motions for me to come in.

  “It’s after noon, dad. Really?”

  He rubs the back of his head. “I haven’t already been drinking, if that’s what you’re asking. Wish I had,” he adds, grinning briefly until he sees I’m not smiling. He smooths his features and rushes to clear fast food wrappers from his couch so I have a place to sit.

  I cross my arms. “I’m fine,” I say. The truth is that I don’t want to touch any more than I have to here. “You said you needed to talk to me about something important. I’m here.”

  “You sure you don’t want to sit?” he asks, motioning to the open spot on the couch and looking more pathetic than usual.

  I sigh and take a seat to avoid hurting his feelings. It’s easier to be hard on him when he’s drunk. There’s a little girl somewhere inside of me that never gave up hope that the dad I knew before Mom died would come back. When he’s sober, I can see small glimmers of the man he was. It’s my undoing. It always has been. “Why did you ask me to come here, Dad?”

  He uses his forearm to clear a space for himself on the coffee table, knocking chinese food containers and plates to the floor. He sits and rests his elbows on his knees, hanging his head for a second before looking up at me with tears in his eyes. “I’m in trouble, Aubs.”

  The pet name grates at me. He hasn’t earned the right, I just don’t have it in me to tell him not to call me that. “What kind of trouble?”

  “I took out some loans from some bad people.”

  It feels like there’s ice in my throat and my chest. “Dad…”

  He stands, pacing and rubbing the back of his neck. “I needed the money! I’m not a saint, okay? I’m not fucking perfect. I’m not some animal that’s happy just living off scraps and beans, spending my whole day cooped up because I can’t afford to go out.”

  I swallow the first unhelpful sentences that rise to my mind. You would have money for take out if you stopped spending it on booze. You would have money if you didn’t keep getting yourself fired. You can’t live like an animal, but you expect me to live like one to pay your bills? Instead, I take a deep breath and reach for his forearm. “Come on Dad, sit down. You’re getting worked up. I need to know how much you owe these people.”

  He pulls his hand away and walks to the other end of the small apartment before turning around. He shakes his head slowly. “Ten grand.”

  I feel numb. I don’t yell or scream or lose my calm. It just washes over me, so unbelievable that it refuses to sink in. “How long do you have to pay them?”

  “I owed them last month. Every month I don’t pay, they charge me another grand. These guys don’t have unlimited patience, Aubs. They are going to hurt me if I don’t pay soon, and bad.”

  It finally sinks in. They are going to kill him. I can barely manage to scrape an extra four hundred dollars a month to pay for his bills and basic needs as it is. It would take me more than a year at that rate, and if they charge $1000 a month in interest? There’s no way. “You’ve got to get a job, Dad. Something. I can’t come up with that kind of money.”

  “What about your car?” he asks.

  “I drive a Corolla, I’d be lucky to get a $1000 for it. It’s like ten years old.”

  He puts both his hands on his head, pacing back and forth. “I’m dead. They’re going to kill me.”

  “What did you need a loan for? You’ve been bleeding me dry for money. What else could you possibly have needed ten grand for?”

  “I thought I could make a few good bets and get back on my feet. I just…”

  I hold up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. “You’re unbelievable.” I stand, grabbing my things and heading for the door. I stop before leaving, one hand on the door. “I can’t save you from this.”

  He looks so pathetic standing there with his arms limp at his sides that I almost feel bad. Who am I kidding, I do. I feel like the world’s worst daughter, abandoning my own dad when he needs me most. I don’t know what else to do, though. I can’t come up with ten grand.

  I meet Aria and her brother, Adam, at a local taco place. The decorations are cheesy. It looks like an American’s stereotypical idea of Mexico. Sombreros, maracas, Dia de Muertos decorations, and paintings of short men with thick mustaches on the walls. Despite the gaudy furnishings, the food is delicious. I have a fish taco with a shrimp aioli sauce and cabbage. Aria’s eating crisped tortillas with pork and a pineapple sauce. Her brother chose the most boring thing on the menu, as usual, and has a large basket of nachos with a bowl of queso.

  He pops a nacho in his mouth and leans back frowning. “So he’s really in the mafia?”

  I glare at Aria. “I told you not to tell anyone!” I say, wiping sauce from the corner of my mouth.

  She gives me a helpless look. “He’s my brother. I tell him everything. It’s not like he knows the guy. No one will find out.”

  I embarrass myself by looking over my shoulder. I don’t know what I expected to see. A guy in a top hat and a trench coat with a tommy gun? There’s just a family of four with a noisy toddler behind us.

  Adam laughs. “Paranoid much?”
<
br />   “This isn’t a joke,” I say. “He’s dangerous.”

  Aria knocks her shoulder against Adam. “That’s why she never agreed to go on a date with you. You’re not dangerous enough.”

  Adam blushes, pushing Aria back. He has blonde hair and an athletic build. Objectively speaking, he’s handsome. He has a quick smile and sharp eyes that always seem to twinkle. When I first started hanging out with Aria, it was clear that Adam was interested. He just always had a girlfriend. After he broke up with his girlfriend of two years a few months ago, he tried to make out with me at a party. Even after I put a stop to that, he still tried asking me to dinner a few weeks later. I had to make it really clear that I wasn’t interested, and this is the first time he has agreed to hang out with me since.

  I try to discreetly glare at Aria for the comment. Given our recent past, it’s inconsiderate, but she has never been gentle with him.

  “I’m just too busy,” I say after the silence stretches into uncomfortable territory.

  “Not too busy for mobsters,” says Aria, grinning.

  “Stop,” I say, but I can’t help smirking when I see even Adam is smiling. “I’ve tried cutting it off with him, but he doesn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Is he one of those college frat types?” asks Adam. “You know, the whole ‘no means yes, yes means anal’ thing?”

  “What?” asks Aria, looking disgusted.

  He pulls out his phone and taps a few times to pull up a news article. She takes the phone and skims it, face scrunching in disgust. “Ew.”

  “It’s not like that,” I say. “If I stood my ground, I think he would respect it. It’s just...hard to say no to him.”

  Aria grins devilishly. “No kidding. He managed to get in Aubriella Lightner’s pants in less than six months. He smashed the record.”

  My face burns hot. “Can we please talk about something else? Maybe about that football player you let take you home?”

  Adam raises his palms. “Let’s not go there. I don’t need that image in my head.”

  I’m about to take another bite, but I pause when I see the look on Aria and Adam’s face. They are staring over my shoulder like they’ve seen a ghost. I set the taco down and turn slowly.

  Vince.

  I jump, bumping the table and jolting the silverware with a metallic clang. “What are you doing, stalking me?” I ask.

  He leans in putting a hand on the table and another on the booth behind me, closing me in like we’re the only people in the restaurant. My eyes roam his body, taking in the careless ease with which he makes his dark hair look perfect, the stubble that looks so good on him. He’s wearing a white shirt with a casual cut, unbuttoned to show his clavicle and the hint of his chest. He wears a light grey suit and slacks with caramel colored dress shoes that look like they’ve never even been worn.

  “Maybe,” he says. His eyes bore into mine as he bites his lip, claiming me with his eyes. The way he looks at me should be illegal, and by the time he’s done working his gaze up and down my body, I feel flushed and hot, like he just groped me. “I’m going to take you out.” He reaches forward and pushes my plate away from me. “So don’t spoil your appetite.”

  I cross my arms. “I’m having dinner with my friends. I’m not going to just bail on them.”

  Vince turns, as if noticing them for the first time. He reaches in his pocket and tosses a wad of $100 bills toward them.

  “You think you can just buy us off?” asks Aria, but Adam raises his eyebrows, counting the money and then makes a shushing gesture to Aria. He quickly scoops some cheese with his chip, takes a bite, and then grabs Aria’s arm, pulling her from the booth.

  “Consider us bought!” says Adam. “Have fun, Aubriella!”

  Aria is stuttering and stammering as he pulls her out the door.

  Once they’re gone, I give Vince a look of disgust. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “I’m just getting started,” he says with a smirk. He reaches to take my hand and lifts me from the booth.

  As much as he frustrates me, there’s no denying the way his touch affects me. My thoughts thicken and I suddenly can’t remember why I wanted to say no so badly. I can’t get past being flattered that he wants to take me out so badly. Guys I’ve gone out with in the past have acted like they were getting their teeth pulled when it came to splitting the bill at a restaurant or paying for parking. Vince threw a couple hundred dollars at my friends just to have a chance to take me out. I should feel insulted that he thinks he can buy me, but he doesn’t think I’ll go with him because he’s flashing money, he thinks I’ll go with him because he’s so damn irresistible.

  I let him pull me from the restaurant to a waiting car. A man in a simple suit and a dark hat steps from the driver’s seat and nods to Vince. Vince pats him on the shoulder and stuffs a few bills in his pocket. “Thanks, Joe.”

  I can’t help smiling a little as Vince helps me inside the car. He paid someone just to leave his car parked outside the restaurant? The show of wealth makes me uncomfortable and excited at the same time. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. He throws money around like it’s meaningless, and he moves like the rules don’t apply to him. I can’t deny how much that draws me to him. Just thinking about how different my life would be with that kind of carefree disregard for life’s problems practically makes my mouth water. It’s not just that, though. He’s doing all of this for me. He thought ahead, made arrangements, and planned tonight out just for me. No one has ever done something so thoughtful for me.

  The car looks expensive, but I don’t know much about them. I can just tell by the soft leather and gleaming wood paneling inside that it’s not cheap. It’s only once Vince sits in the seat beside me and gives me a wolfish grin that I realize how underdressed I am. I have no idea where he plans to take me, but I’m just wearing leggings and a grey tunic. I had planned to grab some food, go home and get cleaned up, and then head out to the practice field tonight to interview players.

  As if reading my thoughts, Vince squeezes my thigh. “I made arrangements to have some clothes fitted and ready for you at Prada. We’ll stop on the way and you can get changed.”

  I swallow hard. Prada? Did I hear him right? As in the place where a single sock probably costs $200? “You know my size?” I ask.

  “Did you think I was groping you for fun?” he asks, face completely serious.

  I blush. “I-you…”

  He laughs. His wide smile carves dimples into his cheeks and makes him look absolutely amazing. “I’m just fucking with you. You would be amazed how much information is available if you put money in the right pockets.”

  “So you bribed people to stalk me?” I ask. I should feel creeped out, but Vince is too far beyond the average guy for me to feel anything but flattered. I’m just blown away that he cared so much to do all this, even if he did invade my privacy to do it.

  He gives me a more or less gesture with his hand, smirking. “Once you see the clothes, you won’t be complaining.”

  I pull my clutch to my stomach, holding it tight and smiling to myself.

  When we step out of the Prada store, it’s as if I’ve transformed. He had a seemingly simple black dress ready for me, complete with pumps. There are delicate slashes of turquoise accenting the hem of the dress, and the necklace he gives me compliments them perfectly. I slip off to the fitting rooms to touch up my makeup and hair. When I catch a look at myself in the mirror after I’m done, I nearly cry. I’ve never had self-image problems, but I’ve always known I wasn’t doing myself any favors with the way I dressed. I just didn’t have the money or time. Seeing myself like this is still a shock. I look gorgeous. I actually look like someone who deserves to be standing beside a guy as attractive as Vince.

  When I step out of the dressing room, Vince drops his phone and stands, eyes devouring me as his perfect lips form into an rougish smile. He moves toward me and his hands claim me, tracing the curve of my back and finding the swell of my ass. He sq
ueezes, pulling me into him so that I can feel his hardening cock. My face flushes when I realize the women working in the store are watching us and gaping. I gently push myself away from him even though my body is already responding to him. I feel so sexy and confident that I almost let him continue just to see how far he’ll take it.

  “goddamn. You look fuckin’ amazing, Aubriella.” He still can’t keep his hands off me as we walk from the store. I have to keep swatting him away as he gropes at my ass and tits, pulling me in and stealing kisses beneath my ear and in the crook of my neck.

  “Thank you,” I say when we get in the car.

  He makes a genuinely dismissive gesture. There’s no hesitation or hint that he expects something in return for the gift. “It’s nothing. You deserve it for the shit I’ve put you through.”

  I try to think of something to say, but I can only smile softly and play with the hem of my dress. I’ve never worn something so expensive and well-made. “So...where are we going?”

  “It’s nothing crazy,” he says. “Just a place with good food and good music. You’ll love it.”

  The restaurant is in Manhattan, tucked between a dry cleaners and an old school movie theater. There’s a line at the door, but Vince takes my arm and leads me passed. I steal a few glances at the men and women waiting, who shoot us looks of admiration and undisguised jealousy. I try not to smile at how the women look at me. I can tell they are torn between appreciation for my dress and the man on my arm. Most of them probably wish they were me right now. I know I would. The thought is only slightly soured when a small voice in my head reminds me that they might not wish to trade places if they knew who Vince really was. But is that true? Vince has been showing me that he has another side to him. He’s not just a violent criminal. He’s thoughtful, kind, and generous. Maybe I misread him.

  We reach the front entrance and Vince just pats the bouncer on the arm.