Chapter 32
Alessandro
8 Days Until The Wedding
“ H ave everything ready when I land in Philadelphia. We can finish fixing the mess Carlo left us with.” Geno confirms plans with me during our weekly meeting.
“Most of it Marco has fixed. We will double-check everything and make sure he doesn’t have another hidden account somewhere.” Marco opens the door to my office, Andrea, our stylist and friend, following behind him. “Listen, I have to go. Marco and Andrea insisted on a bachelor party. Marco said he would drug me and write ‘Marco’s bitch’ on my face with permanent marker if I didn’t let them.”
“Don’t do anything stupid and if you do, I won’t clean it up.” He hangs up before I get the chance to respond. Typical.
“Alright boys! Let’s go party!” Marco is always up for a night out.
As I go to answer, I hear a distinct voice from out in the foyer. “Sounds like El has arrived for Luci,” Andrea mentions as he leaves the room, Marco, not so subtly, chasing after him. They’ve been weird around each other lately, but frankly, it’s none of my business.
The three of them are in a hushed conversation when I catch up to them. They stop whatever they’re saying, turning to face me when they notice I’m here. El has several large bags behind her, and I know none of it is innocent.
“Remember our conversation, El?” Most people tremble in fear when I walk in their direction. Not El. She’s not afraid of me or my men. If anything, she gets off on the challenge.
“You said no strippers. You gave me no other guidelines. If you three are going out to who the fuck knows where, I’m going to make this as much fun as I’m allowed to for Luci. She’s my new friend.” I don’t know how Andrea deals with her attitude, but she’s his obsession and she melts in his presence.
“Behave, mon trésor.” Andrea wraps El around the waist, El melting in his hold by his use of her nickname.
I glance over at Marco and he’s ready to knock out Andrea and steal El for himself. “Yeah, tesoro, behave,” Marco says while mocking Andrea. If we’re going, we need to head out now. I message Enzo, reminding him of the rules tonight with Luci, and head out with the boys.
“Where are we going? I told Luci no strippers and I expect the same for me. If we arrive at a strip club, I’m going home.” Several weeks ago I wouldn’t have cared, but I have this need to give Luci the same courtesy I ask of her.
“You’re a fucking buzzkill, dude. You’re almost as whipped as French boy over here.” He points to Andrea as we continue our drive.
“Having respect and affection for your lover doesn’t mean someone’s whipped. It means they love with every fiber of their being. Your little collection has become your amour, Alessandro. Speaking of, I have the small custom pieces for your suit. Incroyable, if I do say so myself.”
“Can you speak in English or Italian? I know you speak both those languages, too.” Marco can’t stand it when he’s on the outside of something, especially when it’s a language he doesn’t know.
“Maybe you could learn French. You too, Alessandro. Luci would love it. Women get wet for the language of love.”
I smirk at his comment, knowing that I don’t need to learn French to have Luci soaking wet. “I have no issues with that, Andrea, I can assure you.”
“Dude! When do you ever willingly talk about your sex life? I thought Luci would hold off on you as long as possible. Tell us the dirty details. Did she wear that necklace of hers? I bet you’d get hard for that.” The only answer I give Marco is a slight smirk, and he’s glowing like a girl gossiping. All we’re missing is squealing, and I’d think El was in the car.
We stop at a light and I can’t hold off anymore as I search for them in the house. They’re in the kitchen, drinking wine and eating something. It takes a while to realize what it is and when I figure it out, I close my eyes, internally cursing at myself. She’s following the rules. Technically. She didn’t bring strippers. Only penis-shaped cookies. Damnit.
“Your girlfriend made penis-shaped cookies for Luci? What the fuck, Andrea.”
“All El said is ‘Alessandro said no strippers but nothing about anything else dick related. I’m doing it.’ In my defense, she sucked the argument out of me when I tried to. You know, El, I couldn’t talk her out of it if I tried. You’ll find out it’s better to pick and choose your battles with women.”
“I just wanted to see your face when you figured it out. How did you? Never mind, I know the answer.” Marco should know the answer—he engineered and installed the cameras himself.
I realize from a few blocks away where we’re headed, not addressing it until I put the car in park. “Really, Marco? Football? Why?” American football isn’t my favorite sport, but even I can admit it's exciting to be at a game. It’s also one of our largest income revenues.
“Several reasons. One, it’s a big game. Plenty of clients have already placed bets, and I thought it would be fun to be part of the experience. Regardless of whether we win or lose, we get the money back. Why does it matter? Two, you said since Luci couldn’t have strippers, we can’t either.” Andrea smacks the back of Marco’s head for his last statement. “Ouch! What the fuck was that for?”
“Parce que t’es bēte,” Andrea bites at Marco, the two of us turn our heads to face each other, sharing the same confused look before Marco responds.
“I don’t even know what that means! Anyway, after we’ll go play cards. Reasonable, Andrea?”
“Oui.”
After a big win, both for the home team and for our business, we arrive at the gambling room in the back of my bar. The rush of dopamine radiates off the people winning as we walk in. Samuel Walton, one of our biggest and richest clients, known to bet thousands in a singular night like it’s pocket change, notices us before anyone else. His girlfriend, who could be barely legal, is sitting on his lap. Her dress is short and his hand is high enough that he might as well be fingering her. Honestly, I’m surprised he’s not.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s the man of the hour. I heard you’re getting married. Congratulations. Let me get you a gift.” If he didn’t bring in so much money, I would have kicked him out already.
“Thank you, Samuel. I’m just here with my men, having some harmless fun before next weekend. No need to get me anything. Your business is enough.” Sometimes you need to kiss ass to get anywhere. Geno always said to be nice to your enemies, that way they’ll see you as less of a threat.
“Oh come, Alessandro, I insist.” Turning to the girl on his lap, he gives her thigh a few pats. “Get up, Claire, go give the big man a wedding gift.” She nods her head, avoiding eye contact with either of us when she stands and grabs my hand. I pull her close when she does, turning her so Samuel can’t hear what I ask her. Luci would hate how Samuel is treating her.
“Do you want to be here with him?” She stays silent, slightly shaking her head in response.
“Marco, escort Mr. Walton the fuck out of here. I don’t want to see his face anymore. Andrea, take Claire and call Domenico to make plans to put her up somewhere.” Normally I’d stay out of our client’s personal business, but I think of Luci and what she would want me to do.
“Come, fat man, get up. You’re done.” Samuel argues with Marco the entire time Marco drags him out of the room.
“Viens, petite fille,” Claire speaks with Andrea in perfect French. Of course, she’s the only one here who can understand him.
The rest of the night reminds me how much fun the thrill of being at the table is versus being behind it. I’ve emptied both Marco and Andrea’s pockets by the time we’re done and head back to the house.
“You and El can stay in the guest room tonight. If I hear you two fucking, I will not hesitate to throw you two out, dressed or not. Got it?”
He glared at me with a smirk, knowing the key work in my statement was ‘hear’ before answering. “Oui.” We both head in the direction of the girl’s laughter when Andrea stops me. “Let’s not interrupt them. I’ll send El a text saying where I’ll be and they can come to us. El is the only girl Luci has, and El genuinely enjoys being around her. Let them have their fun.” I nod my head, knowing Andrea is right and we both head our respective ways.