9. Finn
Being that close to Alessia while she read me the riot act to make sure I knew where she stood in this marriage had my blood pumping more than any fight ever has. She was completely off base with her assumptions about me and other women or what I expect of her out of this marriage, but the fact she fought so hard with me about it sent heated thrills through my body. And when she punched that woman who was trying to fuss all over me after she saw the state my hand was in? Fuck, it was all I could do not to throw her over my shoulder and lock us in the dressing room of that fucking basement.
The thirty seconds it took me to put my clothes back on before getting in my car and driving to our house was hell with the hard-on I was sporting. Over the last few weeks, she’s been a very polite ghost at home, but tonight she was the goddamn firecracker I saw glimpses of before our wedding. It was intoxicating.
Now I’m standing in my kitchen, nursing a whiskey, and trying like hell to convince myself it’s not the right time to go upstairs and break her damn door down.
I’m so fucked.
I pull out my phone to text Cillian about the change in casino employment. It will take the task from him and give him more time to focus on other things I need, like finding Carlo Cataldi and also making sure things run smoothly at the docks. Alessia was never going to be happy staying home and doing nothing with her days and nights, but I didn’t know what the hell to do with her. It’s not like I’ve ever had a wife to deal with.
Me:Alessia is taking over as casino host.
I see the three dots pop up on and then off the screen a few times before he finally sends his reply.
Cillian:If that’s what you think is best.
I don’t bother responding because regardless of what he thinks or whether I think it’s what’s best, it’s what’s going to happen. Obviously, the idea of her being at the casino around men who are drinking heavily and used to getting whatever they want isn’t where I’d prefer her to be, but it’s the safest option within my organization. It’s heavily guarded, and I’ll probably add a few more just to make myself feel better. It’s not like I could have her out running the docks. Actually, she’d probably handle business like a boss down there and bust the skulls of anyone who dared to question her.
I laugh at the vision of her punching that woman again. Yeah, she’d have no problem getting everyone in line, especially with the weight of my organization and her father’s behind her.
And the blood is rushing to my cock again.
I’m not going to lie. It’s a little odd for me to find my wife’s violent nature the absolute fucking turn-on that I do. I always thought I needed someone soft, someone to smooth my sharp edges. I was sure as shit wrong about that. Alessia’s fire gets my blood heated faster and hotter than the thought of any other woman.
And that’s a problem.
I wasn’t meant to have feelings for my wife. I was meant to have her as a backup if Mario got any bright ideas about double-crossing me. This attraction is a distraction that’s rather inconvenient, especially considering she’s sleeping one floor up. Or maybe she isn’t sleeping. Maybe she’s waiting to see if I’ll come knocking on her door tonight. There was no mistaking the way her pupils dilated when I held my hand over her mouth or the way she leaned just that much closer when our chests were barely touching. What if I had slid my hand lower and held her pretty little neck in my grasp? What if I would have slid it farther still? I can’t help but wonder how far she would have let me take it or if the temptation of being so close had her panties wet.
Knock it off, fucker. You’re just torturing yourself at this point.
After downing the rest of my whiskey, I head up the stairs to my room. When I pass the door of Alessia’s bedroom, I stop for a moment. What would come out of my mouth if I knocked and she opened her door? Would she invite me in or slam it in my face? It could really go either way with her.
Inhaling a deep breath, I close my eyes and shake myself out of these stupid questions that are sure to plague me the rest of the night. Instead of knocking, I decide to shut myself in my room, head to my bathroom, and turn the shower on. Seems another cold shower is needed in order to get through this night.
When I step inside my gym in the morning, I spot Enzo throwing some combinations at the bag hanging from the ceiling. Alessia still hasn’t come down, but I am early and thought I’d warm up before our scheduled training session. I’m not sure if she’s still willing to work out with me after last night, but seeing Enzo relieves some of the worry.
“Mr. Monaghan,” Enzo says, stepping back from the bag. “Alessia will be down shortly. Thought I’d get started.”
“I had the same idea. And please, call me Finn.”
Enzo nods and begins his routine again.
“About last night,” I begin. “What possessed you to think it was a good idea to bring Alessia and Gemma to the fights? You have to know how dangerous places like that can be for women who come alone.”
He stops punching the bag and turns to face me. “Have you tried telling Alessia she couldn’t do something? Because I have, and it didn’t work out for me. She’ll go on her own if I don’t agree. I realized a long time ago it was safer for her if I didn’t try to stop her from doing something and instead did my job as her bodyguard, Mr. Monaghan.”
I nod a few times, completely understanding why he would have taken that approach. “I just told you to call me Finn.”
“Well, I figured it was because you didn’t think I was going to argue with you. But I work for Alessia and Mr. Amatto, and I take my orders from them. I don’t mean you any disrespect, and I didn’t want you to think I was being too informal when—”
“When you told me to shove it up my ass?” I finish for him.
Enzo chuckles. “I wasn’t going to put it like that.”
“No, I don’t suppose you would’ve. Thank you for looking out for her.”
“It’s my job, Mr.—”
“Finn,” I correct. “And I’m glad she has you. She obviously trusts you, and that means I trust you, too.”
Enzo nods and turns back to the bag, but I’m not done. There really isn’t anyone I can ask about Alessia, considering we’ve never run in the same circles. Besides, what’s a little small talk since we’re the only ones in here this early?
“You’ve been with her a long time?”
“Since she was in high school,” he pants out, never breaking his concentration.
“She must have been a handful in college. That’s where she met Gemma, right?”
Enzo nods but keeps working the bag.
“She have a lot of admirers in college? How did they handle it when they found out her dad was head of a Mafia family?”
“Jesus Christ, Finn. Stop trying to interrogate my bodyguard,” Alessia says as she walks into the room with three cups of disgusting-looking green juice in her hands. “Here,” she hands me one and Enzo the other.
I lean down to smell the concoction before wrinkling my nose.
“Don’t be a baby. It’s good for you, and it doesn’t taste that bad,” Alessia huffs.
Enzo and I share a look that says it’s definitely going to taste that bad. We raise our glasses in a toast, and the three of us chug the contents of the glasses.
Holy shit, it tastes worse than I thought it would. Enzo’s face is nearly the color of the disgusting liquid, and Alessia is wearing a satisfied smile on her face.
“It tastes like fucking gym socks and lemon,” I say, trying not to gag.
Alessia rolls her eyes and collects the empty glasses, setting them on one of the benches.
“How’s your hand?” I ask, watching her flex it a few times before grabbing her gloves.
“A little sore.”
“We don’t have to do bag work today,” I tell her.
“Afraid of hurting yours more?” She points to my bruised knuckles.
“This is nothing,” I tell her.
“Then stop trying to make excuses for me to get out of training today and put on those mitts.” Her tone leaves no room for argument as she points to the pads on the bench.
“Yes, ma’am.”
An hour later, Alessia is covered in sweat, but she never once complained about her hand hurting. I’m learning more and more about my wife as we work out. The biggest revelation being that shes more competitive than I gave her credit for. Every punch and combo I throw, she’s right behind me, doing the same. She doesn’t tell us she needs a break or needs to fix her hair or whatever excuse a woman might use to stop. She’s also really fucking good. I see where she could improve and point it out a few times. Instead of saying it’s too difficult or complaining about how long we’ve been going at it, she nods and tries harder, never giving up until whatever correction I make becomes natural. Alessia’s quick wit and tough shell have always impressed me, but her tenacity and determination are making me respect her that much more. My wife is a triple threat.
I am so fucked.
“Alright, I have to tap out,” I say while she continues to work with Enzo.
“Already?” she asks. “Is your hand bothering you?” The mock concern in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed, but I ignore it.
“Be ready to leave here at five. I want to show you around the casino and talk about what you can expect before we get busy. There’s a high-roller poker game tonight that we host once a month. You’ll need to study up on the players.”
“I didn’t agree to work for you yet.”
“You and I both know sitting home all night isn’t your speed. I need the help and you need something to do. It’s a win-win.”
Her jaw works back and forth as she considers her decision. “Fine. I’ll be ready.”
“I’ll leave you to it then.” I gather my towel and the cups, trying like hell to keep the victorious grin off my face before heading out the door.
“How’s your hand really?” Enzo asks right before the door latches.
“Hurts like a bitch,” Alessia responds.
“We could have stopped or worked on legs today.”
“It’s as though you don’t even know me, Enzo. You really think I’m going to sit around icing my hand while Finn works out with the same injury? Not on your life.”
“You’re a very stubborn woman, Alessia.”
“Would you expect anything less?”
I hear Enzo chuckle and my mouth tilts in a smile as well.
“Good point. You about ready to call it a day?”
“Fifteen more minutes.”
I walk away from the door to get ready for my meeting with Cillian, wearing a smile the entire way to my bedroom.
That woman is something else.
It’s five minutes to five, and I’m waiting patiently at the bottom of the stairs for Alessia. I want to give her enough time to get a feel for the casino before being pulled into a million different directions. I plan to stay the entire night and work from my office there. It’s not that I don’t trust my decision. I know she’ll make a great host, but I don’t want her to feel like I’m throwing her to the wolves on her first night there.
Enzo will also be on the floor with Alessia as her personal guard. Though the clientele isn’t as rowdy as the ones that come to the fights, it still brings me peace of mind to know that his only responsibility is to be there looking after her safety.
Finally, Alessia appears at the top of the stairs, and I swear to God, it’s like one of those stupid teen movies I caught my brother watching with a girlfriend when he was in high school. She walks down the curved staircase, and I’m instantly enthralled by her red lips and the smooth skin of her long, tanned legs.
The dress reminds me of the one she was wearing the first night we met. Instead, this one is black, but it hugs her just as well as the red I loved seeing her in. I’m half tempted to have her go upstairs and change simply because I don’t want the eyes of every man in the place all over her tonight. It would be an impossible feat for any red-blooded man to accomplish. Plus, I already hear her telling me to fuck off if I dared ask.
“Ready?” she asks, but I’m stuck staring at those damn red lips to register that I’m still holding her coat over my arm.
“Finn, what the hell’s wrong with you?”
That snaps me to attention, and I hold her jacket open so she can slide her arms in. When she pulls her hair from the collar, a whiff of something flowery and light hits my nose. The temptation to bury my face in her long, dark waves is strong, but instead, I take a step back and open the front door.
“Your chariot awaits,” I say, holding my arm toward my car that Enzo has started.
She looks at me and quirks her brow. “Why are you acting so weird?”
She’s right. Since I saw her walk down the stairs, my brain went a little haywire. I don’t have an answer for her, so I simply shrug and walk with her down the stairs and open the car door.
On the way to the casino, I work to get my head on straight and focus on the binder I had Cillian put together for Alessia. It’s filled with short bios and preferences of the men that are going to be playing in the poker game tonight and a few of the other regulars that spend a shit ton of money in our establishment on a regular basis. Alessia studies each preference sheet and nods, making little notes when I mention something that isn’t on there.
“What about the girls?” she asks. “There’s nothing in here about any of their preferences for the escorts.”
I specifically had Cillian leave that out. I’m not sure why since that’s something a good host would know about the high-end clients, but we have a house madam that takes care of those needs should one of the players request some time with one of our girls.
“That’s handled separately,” I tell her.
She studies me for a moment then shrugs. “Seems like something I should be aware of, but it’s your casino.”
Enzo parks the car in a private garage reserved for staff. It’s one of the small ways I show my appreciation for their time and discretion working for my family. Parking in Boston can be a pain in the ass, and this way, they never have to worry about finding a spot or someone messing with their car while they’re here.
The casino is beneath one of the most exclusive and high-end bars in Boston, owned by my family. Our name is nowhere near any licensing for this place. If some cop or FBI agent looked into the owner of this establishment, it would lead them to several different shell companies ending up in the Cayman Islands. Some creative paperwork and some generous deposits in the bank accounts of a few city officials were all it took to get the licensing needed to open the doors. This is a members-only establishment, which offers some anonymity to our clients when they enter. The upper level where the bar is has a speakeasy feel to it, a nod to my familys past of running the biggest bootlegging operation in Boston during prohibition. But the real action happens a level below.
Alessia looks around the bar with the deep-emerald-green wallpaper and rich, dark oak accents that match the low ceiling. Several tables are scattered around the main floor, with more private tables lining the walls.
I nod to the bartender on duty, who is getting everything set up for opening, before walking down a short hallway to a door that blends perfectly with the wall. Alessia watches with interest as I move the picture of my grandparents to the side, revealing a small keypad.
“Everyone has their own code, including staff, so we know who’s entered and when.”
“Fancy,” she remarks with a small tilt to her red lips.
I enter my code and push the door in, revealing another staircase. When we get to the bottom, it opens into a small alcove where we’ll have a security guard and one of the girls greeting guests upon arrival.
“You’ll be up here at the beginning of the night and greeting everyone when they come in. All guests are required to leave any of their weapons in one of the several lockboxes we have for them.”
“That must go over well.”
I look her in the eye with a smirk playing on my lips. “No one argues with me.”
Alessia hums but doesn’t say anything.
Thick curtains hang from the ceiling, partitioning off the alcove from the rest of the casino. When I open them, the impressed look in Alessia’s eyes sends pride shooting through me. I’ve worked hard at taking the back room gambling den my grandfather started and turned it into a high-class casino you would find at the finest resorts in Vegas or Atlantic City.
It’s not often I get to see someone’s expression when they first enter, and Alessia’s reaction doesn’t disappoint as she takes in the expansive underground space with dark wood and felt-lined blackjack and poker tables. I wanted it to have a similar feeling to the bar upstairs—classy and expensive. We have a few roulette wheels and craps tables set up throughout. Everything is the same high-end quality you would find in any legitimate casino, minus the tired-looking dealers and straight-off-the-street gamblers in jeans and T-shirts. We require a strict dress code in the casino, not that we’ve ever had to enforce it. Our clientele comes here for an experience they won’t find in any of the smoky, backroom gambling halls that are in so many of the dive bars in Boston.
“It’s beautiful, Finn,” she says, looking at me with a small grin. “I’m impressed.”
“Not the back-alley thugs you’ve always assumed we were?”
Alessia laughs. “No. I’d say this is definitely a step above what I imagined. I almost feel underdressed.”
My gaze travels over her, and I shake my head. “Trust me. No one would ever say that.”
A light blush covers Alessia’s cheeks, and I clear my throat of the words that are stuck there. I want to tell her that shes one of the most stunning creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on. That she looks too good in that dress, and I want to see what she’s wearing underneath. Instead, I tilt my head, signaling for her to follow me to the other side of the room where there’s another set of thick drapes separating the three offices we have down here from the floor.
I point to the one on the left. “That will be yours.” Then I point to the one on the right. “And that’s for security.”
“What about that one?” she asks, pointing to the door at the end of the hallway.
“That’s my office.”
I open the door to the security office, and low and behold, there’s Cillian going through footage from a few nights ago.
“I thought I’d find you here,” I say as he pauses the recording and looks in our direction.
“Alessia, good to see you,” he says, standing and holding out his hand.
She takes it with a professional smile, already slipping into her role. “You too, Cillian.”
“I’m going to show her to her office and get her set up. Meet me in mine,” I tell my lieutenant.
He nods and turns back to the monitors, restarting the recording he was studying when we walked in.
Alessia and I cross the hall, and I open the door to her office. We’ve cleared it out after that rat bastard was caught stealing. The space is bare, with gray walls and nothing but a desk and file cabinet. I probably should have had someone come in and at least set her up with a plant or some shit.
“You can decorate however you like,” I tell her as she sets her bag on the desk.
“I doubt I’ll be in here much,” she replies, sitting on the chair behind her desk and wincing. “But I’ll probably at least get a new office chair.”
I smile at her distaste for the cheap office furniture. “Whatever you want, princess.”
She sends me a glare and rolls her eyes.
Making my way over to the file cabinet, I open it and signal for her to stand next to me. “In here, you’ll find everything you’ll need about all our clients. It’s similar to what I had you go over in the car but more in-depth. I like for each member to feel like they’re the most important patron we have, which means knowing their wives, mistresses, and kids’ names. Shit, even their dogs name, if we can get that information.”
“Finn, I’ve pretty much been preparing for this my entire life. Who do you think was at my father’s side at every dinner party or charity function? Trust me, my mother has been training me since I was old enough to carry a conversation.”
She grabs a stack of folders and sits at her desk, opening the first one. “Are you going to stand there and stare at me all night or get to your own work?”
I smile and shake my head. “There’s a phone in the top drawer of your desk with all the numbers you’ll need while youre here. Keep it on you when you’re on the floor in case anyone needs to get hold of you. If you have any questions, Cillian or I can answer them. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
“Just come get me when the doors open,” she replies without looking up from her file.
Getting the distinct impression I’ve been dismissed, I head to my office, where Cillian is waiting patiently for me. It’s similar to the one I had set up for Alessia. I don’t keep my personal items here, all that stuff is at my home office, but I do keep a picture of me and my brother when we were kids with my dad and grandfather.
“Three generations of Monaghan men,” my grandfather said proudly that day. He died not too long after the photo was taken, but he’d made a huge impression on my brother and me. He made sure we understood the importance of keeping family close and the loyalty we need to have to each other above all else.
“Alessia’s set up?” Cillian asks as I have a seat in my dark leather chair. I’ll need to order one like this for Alessia’s office.
“Yup. Did you find anything on the security footage?” Since finding out our last host was stealing from us, I had Cillian reviewing the cameras, going back the last several weeks to see if he saw anything remotely suspicious from the dealers down to the coat check girl.
“Nothing. He may not have been working with anyone.”
“I want to make sure. I’ll be damned if anyone here thinks they can steal from me and get away with it.”
Cillian nods. “Hence offering the job to your wife?”
“You don’t seem thrilled with the idea, Cillian. Something you want to say?” I lean back in my chair and cock my head to the side, waiting for his reply.
“Nothing I haven’t said before. You take a lot of risks keeping her close to your business when this little arrangement is so new.”
He had similar reservations before we married, and I feel the same way now as I did then.
“She’s not going to fuck me over, Cill. Her family has just as much to lose as we do.”
Cillian shrugs but isn’t finished. “Alessia is a beautiful woman.” I nod because I already know this. “You sure it’s a good idea having her here with all the rich assholes? It’s entirely possible they’ll mistake her for one of the girls and get a little handsy.”
“If anyone has a problem with her not being for sale, they can come find me. I expect everyone within these walls to treat her with the same respect they treat me.”
“Expectations and actuality are two different things, Finn.”
“Then I’ll handle it like I handled that punk at the fights last night. If the men who walk through those doors care about walking out with all of their limbs attached, they’ll be damn careful not to disrespect what’s mine.”
Cillian gives me a flat look and exhales. “I hope to fuck this doesn’t blow up in our faces.”