Lust for Danger: A Mafia Romance -- Book One: The Family [Erotic Mafia Romance Book] (9 page)

She punched Dom’s number into her phone, walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window of the hotel room, and hit
DIAL.

Dominic’s gruff voice answered after the second ring.

“Jessica,” he stated flatly, no hint of a question in his tone. She was taken slightly aback by it.

“Um, yes,” she said. “Hi. Uh… How did you know it was me?”

He laughed. “There aren’t too many American phone numbers calling my personal number these days.”

“Ah,” she said, but struggled for a follow-up. There was a second or two of silence. She wondered where Dom was at the moment – lounging in a comfortable office, perhaps, with his feet draped over a corner of his desk. Coming to her senses, she realized he was waiting for her to speak.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I wanted to call and thank you for the flowers. It was a really nice gesture – and thanks for the Advil, too,” she laughed
“My pleasure,” he replied. “I hope you’re feeling all right this morning.”

“I’ve been better,” she laughed. “Dom, I want to apologize for my behavior last night. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve gotten drunk like that. I hope I wasn’t too obnoxious.”

He chuckled. “Not at all, Jessica. Though I must say, I can’t remember the last time a woman told me off like that in my own club.”

She winced, but laughed along. “Yeah… sorry about that. I must have said some pretty nasty stuff.”

“No apology necessary,” he said. As he spoke, she couldn’t help but notice the sound of his voice – pleasingly low, with a bit of gruffness to it that gave it the slightest edge. It was strong, smooth and sexy, all at the same time.

“Listen, Jessica,” he continued, “I can’t talk much right now. I’ve got someone waiting to speak to me outside my office. Please do come back to the club sometime – I meant what I said in that card, you know. Get some rest, and feel better.”

“Sure…” she trailed off. Somehow, she wasn’t ready for the conversation to end – but she didn’t know what to say to keep it going. On an impulse, she blurted out something without thinking about it.  “…How about tonight?” she said.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. She could picture Dom smiling to himself. “Tonight?” he said, with a hint of amusement in his voice. “You’re really up for another night out after last night?”

“Uh… sure!” she chirped, grimacing and kicking herself for being so hasty to speak. The truth was, she didn’t feel at all like she was up to another night of dancing and drinking – not in her current condition. But from his reply, it seemed Dominic somehow understood this.

“I’ve got a better idea,” he said. “Why don’t you come down to the restaurant next door to the club – say, 8pm? We can talk over dinner, away from all the music.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Dinner sounds perfect,” she said. “What’s the name of the restaurant?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, laughing softly. “It’s right next to my club. You won’t miss it. I’ll see you tonight, Jessica. Take care.”

“Take care…” she repeated, and kept holding the phone to her ear long after he hung up. She stared off into space like that for a while, her confused mind trying to understand just what she was doing – and just what she might be getting herself into.

But it was impossible. She couldn’t predict the future – much less figure out exactly why she was drawn to Dominic the way she was. But one thing was for sure, she knew. She’d made her choice, and now it remained to be seen what would happen next.

She’d chosen her path, thrown the dice – and now there was no going back.

Chapter Thirteen

Carlo hated coming to Fiumicino.

It was no secret within the organization, either – he’d put in his time at the docks as a newbie, just like everyone else, but as soon as that time was up he’d told Dominic in no uncertain terms that he wanted as little to do with Fiumicino as possible.

There was no good in this place. It wasn’t the filth that got to him, not the smell of fish and blood that seemed to linger in the air and fill your pores so deeply you still smelled it the next day. It wasn’t even the dangerous work that went on there, with young guys getting hurt or arrested – or worse – what seemed like every other day.

No, the thing about Fiumicino that made Carlo’s stomach turn more than anything else was the grim sense of resignation, of melancholy, that he saw on people’s faces who worked there. It was like the whole dockyard was full of ghosts. This work ate you up from the inside, and you could see the toll it took on a human soul just by looking into the face of a man who’d been working there a few years.

Carlo understood that the work was necessary. An organization like the Pirelli family needed diverse streams of income, number one, and the dockwork was extremely profitable even when other avenues of moneymaking temporarily tried up. Number two, the import/export business kept the family well-stocked with anything they might need: illegal shipments of booze, cartons of cigarettes, even fur coats for the wives of politicians Dom wanted to bribe. It was helpful to have a steady supply of “whatever was needed” right at the family’s fingertips.

Little did Carlo realize, it was this second aspect of the docks that was responsible for his visit to Fiumicino today.

He pulled up to the harbor’s parking lot and got out of the car, taking in the sight of the ships all around him that stretched out as far as the eye could see in both directions. There were ships of all sizes, from huge shipping vessels coming in from Asia all the way down to fishing boats that were just a few meters in length, all sharing space on the docks with each other. The Pirelli-run area was a little ways down the wharf, past a few sketchy-looking alleyways and a tiny, trash-ridden beach.

It was on this beach that Carlo saw his brother, pacing up and down in the sand and yelling into his cell phone. Rocky saw Carlo approach, and held up a hand to his older brother to signify that he was almost done.

“Listen, I don’t care what you have to do, you got that?” Rocky said, holding the phone up to his mouth and talking into it. “You just fucking get me what I asked for. I’m a Pirelli, God damn it.”

Carlo’s eyebrows arched upwards, and his mouth dropped open slightly. What the hell was his brother doing?

Rocky resumed his agitated pacing around the beach, nodding energetically as he barked his orders into the phone. “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Listen, I gotta go. You call me back – and you better fuckin’ make me happy.” He slammed the phone shut in his palm.

“Piece of shit,” Rocky said, and then turned to look at his brother. A wide grin broke out across his face. “Carlo!” he cried, and he opened his arms wide for an embrace. Carlo’s arms opened reflexively, but he remained silent and stunned as they hugged.

“Rocky, what the fuck was that?” he asked, as they pulled away. His brother shrugged, still smiling.

“These fucking Turks, man,” he said. “You gotta show ‘em who’s boss, or they’ll never respect you. I got a big shipment in this morning, just arrived from Istanbul. I’m meeting my guy in half an hour to pick up the stuff.”

Carlo shook his head. “Not that,” he said. “It’s your business how you talk to people. Why the fuck are you going around saying you’re a Pirelli?”

Rocky’s face darkened.

“What do these guys know?” he replied, a lame response. “I gotta let them know I mean business. Besides, we work for the family, don’t we? That counts for something.”

“You know what Dom would do if he heard you saying you’re a Pirelli,” Carlo said. “There’s a difference between working for the family and being part of it. You’re gonna get yourself into trouble, brother.”

“Don’t tell me how to run my business,” he said sullenly.

“Forget business,” he pressed. “This is about family. You’re an Ambrosi, Rocky. Your father built a fucking art museum. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Carlo threw his arms open to the decrepit docks surrounding them.

“Just look around you,” he said, stepping closer to his brother as he spoke. “You really wanna throw away your father’s name, just to trade it for this shit? What’s
wrong
with you?”

“Fuck you,” he snarled, pushing Carlo away with both hands. Carlo pushed him back, hard, and Rocky had to stumble backwards a couple of steps. Carlo had three inches on his thin, scrawny brother, and twenty pounds of muscle on him easily. They stared at each other with adrenaline in their eyes.

“I’m not saying this to start a fight,” Carlo said, his voice softening. “I’m worried about you, that’s all. Sometimes it doesn’t seem like you realize how dangerous this shit is.”

“I can take care of myself,” Rocky said, but Carlo shook his head.

“That’s not what I meant,” he replied. “Sure, you’ll survive – that’s not what I’m worried about. I’m talking about dangerous in the sense that once you let this life get into your head, it
changes
you. You won’t be able to leave it. I know you’ve always loved the mob. Those movies you watched, how could you think anything different? But you gotta think, Rocky. Is this really the life you want for yourself?”

Rocky stayed silent, not allowing himself to admit his brother’s point.

“Look what happened to me,” Carlo said softly, turning his eyes out to the ocean. “I hate this shit, and I’m still here eight years later.”

“You can leave,” his brother said suddenly. Carlo turned to him, a questioning look on his face.

“You can leave,” he said again, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Talk to Dom, Carlo. He trusts you – he
respects
you. He knows you’ve done your time. See what he has to say about it.”

Now it was Carlo who was on the defensive. “He’ll never agree to it,” he said weakly, but both of them knew that was a hollow excuse. He looked into his brother’s eyes.

“Okay,” Carlo said finally. “I’ll talk to him. Happy? But you gotta promise me, brother – when the time’s right, you’ll walk away too. We work for the Pirellis, but that’s
it.
”

He thought back to that conversation with his father over the kitchen table, eight long years ago.

“That’s what I told Dad when I started, you know. I told him I’d go to work for them, but I’d never forget who I was.”

Rocky nodded quietly, not saying anything. It was a rare moment of candor between them, and each felt a newfound understanding of the other. They spent a few minutes like that, Rocky’s hand still on his older brother’s shoulder, both of them thinking about their father.

“Come on,” said Carlo, “let’s get out of here. I’ll drive you to pick up the shipment, and then we gotta go back to Trastevere. Dom sent me her personally to come get you. You know anything about that?”
Rocky’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Dom sent you?” he said, thinking for a few moments. “…No, brother, I have no idea.”

Carlo smiled, shaking his head. “That guy’s a nutjob. Who knows what he wants. I guess we’ll find out when he wants us to.”

“I guess so,” Rocky laughed. “Come on, let’s go.”

As they headed back to the car, Carlo checked his cell phone – to his surprise, there was a missed call from Jessica. “Shit,” he muttered, and quickly re-dialed while walking a few steps away from his brother.

Three rings… then four. But just as he was about to hang up, the line opened, and he heard that beautiful voice of hers once again.

“Hello?”

“Jessica!” he replied, a little too enthusiastically. He collected himself. “Is everything all right?”

The guilt in her voice was audible. “Hi, Carlo,” she groaned. “Listen, I’m
so
sorry about this morning. I… wasn’t feeling well. But I’m better now.”

“That’s great,” he said, his heart beating lightly all of a sudden. “I was worried something had happened. I thought maybe you decided the museum wasn’t worth your trouble.”

“No, no,” she giggled, “nothing like that. I’m dying to see it, actually. And I want to see you again.”

“…You do?” he asked, and then grimaced at how stupid that sounded.

“Of course I do,” she said. “But, Carlo, um… I can’t make it today… can we maybe meet sometime tomorrow?”

He’d stopped walking, and he now realized Rocky was staring back at him with his hands on his hips. When Carlo met his eyes, he contorted his face into a comic expression and began thrusting his hips obscenely. Carlo turned away abruptly, and Rocky burst out in laughter.

“Ah... tomorrow’s perfect!” he said, walking hastily away from his brother. “The museum closes early on Saturdays, actually. Can you come at 5 o’clock? We’ll have the place to ourselves… it will be beautiful.”

“Sounds great,” she said. “I’ll see you then, Carlo. And I promise not to stand you up this time.”

“Stand…up?” he said, confused at the English expression.

She laughed. “Never mind – I’ll be there! See you!”

“See you…” he said, as the line disconnected. He turned around to face his brother, a thin smile lighting up his face, not even hearing the jokes and taunting his brother launched into immediately.

All he could think about was Jessica – of how beautiful she was, and of how excited he was to be meeting her again. For a few brief moments, the thought of her had taken his mind away from the mafia business, even in the middle of the docks he so hated.