6. Prime
PRIME
Stellan Corsetti crosses to my bar cart and pours himself a drink. He sweeps a hand through his thick sandy hair and looks back at me, shaking the bottle to ask if I want one, which is a stupid fucking question and I tell him so, which makes him laugh.
He puts the glasses down on my desk and lounges in my guest chair. “I have to admit it’s nice to get out of the main house,” he says, stretching his legs. “And you’ve done well for yourself lately.”
“You came all the way out here to kiss my ass, huh boss?”
Stellan barks another laugh. I grin back at him. We’ve been through a lot and I’m the only man in the Corsetti Famiglia who could ever talk to him like that, though never in front of anyone else.
“Since I gave you everything you have, I like to think complimenting you is really just complimenting myself.”
“Love that circular logic.”
He tips his glass in my direction. “Cheers then.”
We drink in companionable silence. I have to admit, I miss spending time with Stellan. Ever since he ascended to the throne of the outfit, he’s been busy with family and business, and I’ve been caught up running my own little slice of the kingdom. It’s rare we get together like this anymore.
But it’s good, remembering where we both came from. The sacrifices we’ve made to get where we are.
“Arturo talk to you about the shipments?” Stellan asks casually and uses a code name we invented a while back.
“Artie’s on top of everything, don’t worry.”
“And the boxes are going where they need to go? No hiccups in the supply chain?”
“I have the chain on lock.”
“Always good to hear.”
Even here, in my own office, Stellan can’t bring himself to be more explicit than that, but we both know what he means.
The boxes are enormous piles of cocaine and the supply chain is my network of dealers working through the parking lots.
It’s an ingenious system, really, using primarily cash-only spaces to launder drugs through.
Helps that the cops in Philly are very friendly to the Corsetti family.
I ask him about his baby son Bruno, almost three now, and his wife Kira, and he chats on and on about what it’s like to be a father.
Sounds like hell if I’m honest: all that responsibility, all those different ways he can go ahead and fuck up the most important people in his life, but more power to him, I guess.
He seems happy, and that’s what matters.
“I heard a rumor the other day,” he says, finishing his drink. He sucks on an ice cube. “You’ve been taking meetings with men associated with Mr. F, haven’t you?”
My hands stiffen, knuckles going white. It takes a lot of self-control not to glance away.
Guilt rushes over me. I should have mentioned this to Stellan.
He’s my Don, my boss, and my friend, and as his Capo I should run any sort of business with another crime outfit past him first. Except this shit with Fontana is personal and I don’t want Stellan getting involved.
Still, can’t lie to him.
“I have some ideas I wanted to pass through the old man.”
“Good ideas?”
“Nothing you’d be interested in.”
Stellan’s eyebrows arch. “I’m very interested in what my people are doing. Especially when it comes to men like Mr. F.”
“It’s nothing. It’s barely family business.”
He studies me for a long, tense moment. Stellan’s a good boss and a solid friend, but what I’m doing transcends all that.
It goes back to the core of me, down into my roots, into what makes me the man I am today, and I’m not sure Stellan would fully understand.
I won’t lie to him, but I also won’t back down, not when I’ve gotten this far.
“You know I trust you, Prime.” Stellan speaks carefully as he stands to place his empty glass on the cart.
“I believe you have everyone’s best interests in mind.
I know you wouldn’t do anything to harm the Famiglia.
But I also know you haven’t fully acclimated to what you are these days, and sometimes you need a reminder.
” He turns to face me, arms crossed, all friendliness vanished from his face.
“You are a Capo in my organization. You owe me fealty, your blood, your fucking life, everything you are. If you put on different shoes, I get a say in how they fit, do you understand me?”
“I understand, Don Corsetti.”
He huffs as he tugs his suit jacket closed and buttons it. “I trust you, Prime,” he repeats. “Which is why I won’t stop whatever game you’re playing. But I’ll ask two things of you.”
“Anything.”
“First, keep any negotiations between you and Mr. F only to properties and businesses you personally control. If Famiglia assets get looped through, I have to be involved.”
“Understood.”
“And second, you need to be careful. The old bastard’s not as strong as he used to be, but he’s still crafty. I’ve had trouble with their people recently and I don’t want to hear you getting tangled with them.”
“I’ll handle it, boss.”
Stellan grunts and looks like he wants to say more, but there’s a knock at my door. It opens a crack and Deanna pokes her head through. She seems surprised to see Stellan, since I have no meetings on my books, but brightens when she recognizes him.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Stellan, right? It’s nice to see you again.”
“Deanna.” Stellan warmly shakes her hand. “We met last year at that thing for the sick kids…” He trails off vaguely and Deanna laughs.
“There are probably a dozen sick kid things every month, but you nailed it. Can I get anything for you two?”
“No, I was just leaving.” Stellan glances back at me. I can tell he wants to talk more, but he’s using Deanna’s arrival as a convenient excuse to slip out. He doesn’t like being seen together if he can avoid it. He’s getting almost as paranoid as Fontana these days.
Having something to lose does that to a man. Not that I’d know.
Deanna watches him leave, which I don’t like. When Stellan’s out of range I grunt at her. “No need to ogle my friend’s goods. What do you need?”
Her head whips back and her eyes are wide. “I wasn’t ogling anything!”
“You were staring at Stellan’s rear like a butcher drooling over a prize hog. You know he’s married, right?”
“You’re not funny.”
“Nobody’s laughing.”
Her teeth set in a straight edge as she crosses her arms in that adorably pissed way she has. “I need some things from you if I’m going to do that task you gave me.”
“Which task is that?” I peek at my phone, thoughts straying to Fontana. What’s he been doing with Stellan and the rest of the Corsetti outfit? And what has Stellan heard, exactly? I’ve been discreet and I don’t like that rumors are already slipping out.
“Well, you have a call with David Sorensen in a few hours to go over finalizing your partnership, then there’s the monthly financial audit of the lots we should discuss, and I also need a list of every woman you’ve slept with in the past six weeks?—“
“Hold on, what?”
“—and ideally your black book as well. Why are you staring at me like that?”
“I’m not giving you the names of every woman I’ve had sex with.” Not that I could, even if I wanted. Most of them prefer to skip the whole personalization thing and stick with baby, oh god, harder, and my favorite, I’m fucking coming.
“You want me to find you a wife, right? Then I need some place to start.”
“Try starting with women I haven’t already been with.”
“And how is that supposed to work?”
I gesture at my window. The view overlooks the city. “You figure it out. That’s what I’m paying you for. Philly’s a big damn place.”
“Right, and you’ve banged your way through most of it.”
“Now you’re out of line.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t pretend like you’re insulted. It’s the truth, you really have slept with at least half the female population of this city.”
I look at her through my eyelids, fighting back a smile. “Is it my fault I’m good at what I do.”
“That’s not relevant.”
“Are you sure? You seem to remember me very fondly.” I kiss the tip of my index finger, remembering the taste of her pussy on my lips. Magnificent.
Her cheeks turn pink. “Okay fine. How about we stick to the most recent conquests? Just the girls you’ve banged in the last week? Maybe one of them will be desperate enough to play wifey.”
I check my nails. “There haven’t been any.”
She looks stunned for a brief moment before laughing. She picks up Stellan’s used glass and tucks it under her arm. “Hilarious. Seriously, give me names?”
“I’m not kidding. There haven’t been any.
” I lock eyes with her, holding back the primal urge to storm around this desk and to slam my dick in her defiant, pretty mouth.
She has no fucking clue how difficult it’s been, flogging my dick in the shower, dreaming about her taste every day and not feasting on any actual pussy.
I feel like my head’s in a constant fog.
But ever since that night at my house when I found her spread-eagle and knuckle-deep in her lovely cunt, I haven’t been able to bring another woman home.
Like I’m fucking ruined.
“Are you… sick?” She sounds genuinely concerned. “Did you finally catch something?”
“Not fucking funny.”
“I’m not joking! I’ve been your assistant for years and I’ve never seen you go more than a few days without dragging some poor girl to your bed.”
“None of them are dragged unless that’s what they’re into, then I’m happy to oblige a little kink between consenting adults.”
“Great, noted, you’re open minded. Is it syphilis?”
“Fuck off, Deanna, I’m not sick.” I rip open my bottom drawer and pull out my date book.
It’s crammed with names and numbers, mostly written by the girls themselves.
I toss it over and she clumsily catches it, nearly dropping the glass she plans on cleaning when she leaves.
“There, happy? Back pages are more recent, front pages are old. Goes back a year.”
“Uh… thanks.” She flips through it. “Wow, I recognize some of these names. Holy shit, you actually fucked?—“
“Deanna,” I say warningly. “Respect the privacy of my lady companions.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure, but this one is in an actual movie right now, and?—“
“Deanna, am I going to have to punish that mouth of yours? I have plenty of inventive and fun ways of shutting you the fuck up, most of which involve my dick and your throat.”
The book snaps shut. For a beat, I think I’ve gone too far.
It’s just that I’m so god damn pent up and she’s pissing me off.
I think playing matchmaker is giving her some sense of power over me and it’s making her even more insufferable and mouthy than usual.
Most days I don’t mind, and sometimes I even like it when she pushes my buttons, but right now I’m too frustrated to do anything but get hard and picture flogging her bare ass while she sucks my dick and moans my name.
It’s not helping my fragile state of mind.
“I don’t think any punishments will be necessary, Mr. Spadaro,” she whispers, breath coming quickly. She holds the book up. “Thanks for this. I’ll get started right away.”
“See that you do.” I sit back, feeling guilty, cock rock hard, pulse hammering straight into my shaft.
She goes to leave, but pauses before she gets to the door. I think she’s going to turn back and take me up on the face-fucking I want to subject her to, but instead she frowns at me curiously.
“You never said… exactly what am I supposed to tell these girls?”
“I don’t follow.”
“I mean, why do you want a wife? For what purpose?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“They’re going to ask.”
“Tell them whatever you want.”
“Right, but maybe I want to know too.”
I rap my knuckles sharply on my desk. “Business. That’s all. Anything else, Ms. Esposito?”
She clearly wants to press, but instead chews on her lip and says nothing. I watch her ass sway as she hurries from my office, shutting the door behind her with her elbow, leaving me with a stiff cock and a frustrated snarl.
Deanna doesn’t know anything about the other side of my business.
My real business, if I’m honest with myself.
The real estate development and investment brings in decent money, and the lots pay for themselves, but they aren’t my true source of income.
It’s the shit me and Stellan were talking about before that drives my success and pays for my lifestyle.
It’s the heart of my power and my ambition.
And it’s the most dangerous part of my life, which is why she’s kept far away from it.
Whoever I marry will have to be willing to accept some small measure of risk. I’ll ensure she’s properly compensated, if not fully informed. Deanna though, she doesn’t need details, because the less she knows, the safer she’ll be.
“Fucking girl,” I murmur to myself, tempted to text that gorgeous piece of ass I ditched the night I found Deanna on my pool table.
Instead, I stroke my cock at my desk, eyes blurred in the direction of the closed door to my office and hoping she walks in to find what I’m doing, and disappointed when I come into some tissues with her name on my lips, only partially relieved at best.