Chapter 3
Carmine
Ahot shower isn’t enough to rid me of the ache in my head, nor my chest. It is however, enough to remove the stench of alcohol and blood from my body. Numbness has settled into my bones, and yet the first thing I do when I get out of the shower is grab another bottle of alcohol.
Water still drips down my body as I take a heavy drink and feel the burn in my stomach. It’s only after three of these drinks that I finally dry off and get dressed. Black slacks, black button up, black wingtips…all in the same dark and empty shade.
I greet the guards that the Fiorellis have sent over. A dozen and a half of them. Men and women with tall broad frames and dark expressions. It’s clear that they aren’t any happier about this than myself and my family.
Some part of me is itching to find one of them out of place. To find a pistol tucked into a waistband, a knife in a sock, a wire taped to their chest.
Nothing is found. My trigger finger itches.
They’re sent to be armed by my Uncle Gregor, who has handled the training and arming of guards general and personal for two decades.
Meanwhile, I’m left to continue cleaning up the mess left in my father’s wake. Including his literal wake.
“He chose his coffin. He’s to be buried next to mother.
The estate has been handed to me. What more is there?
” I ask Alessio and Tiberi as they sit with me in our fathers—now my—office.
It’s been scrubbed of all evidence of blood.
The window has been fixed, and it’s as if nothing has happened.
Except for the area rug missing from under the desk.
“For starters, Father wanted his funeral to be a happy occasion. Food, drink, and music,” Alessio reminds me. He’s looking through the papers that I’ve already read through four times.
“I know. He also wanted to be alive right now. He doesn’t get what he wants,” I reply. My jaw and neck feel so tight that it hurts.
Tiberi sighs. “We need to do things right by him. I know it’s easier to just…put him in the ground and get it over with, but that’s not what he wanted.”
I look away from my brothers. “Fine. He wanted a party, he’ll get a party.”
“Secondly…you need to talk to Cassian,” Alessio says. “He’s going to need you now more than ever.”
I scoff. “This is his fault,” I sneer.
“It’s not and you know that,” he snaps back. “He’s a kid.”
“Yeah, and he was left in charge when he had no business being in charge,” I growl at him.
Tiberi smacks the desk. “Stop it. This will accomplish nothing. We can’t change what happened. You can be mad at Cas all you want, but we’re his brothers. Tommy fucks up all the time too. We all do, and we still fight for each other.”
“Tommy didn’t get our father killed,” I say through grit teeth. My eyes burn. That numbness is starting to wear away. Pain breaking through. The bullet hole still healing in my leg pales in comparison.
“Neither did Cassian, you stubborn fucking prick.” Alessio glares at me. “Any one of us could’ve been in that room. If Cassian had died instead of Father, would you blame our father?”
I swallow hard and look down at the desk. “Who was there for us?” I ask as I look back up. “Who was there for me?”
My brothers stare back at me. Silent.
“I’ll talk to Cassian when I feel like it.” I shove up from the desk and walk around it and them.
“Where are you going?” Tiberi asks.
“To check on the club. If you two want to waste time calling caterers, be my guest.”
“Do you want me to wait nearby?” Riktor, my driver, asks me as I’m getting out of the car.
I don’t bother looking at him when I speak. “No. I’ll be here a while.” I slide out and close the door behind me, not looking back at the car even once before it drives away.
The only reason I didn’t drive myself is because I’m already several drinks in. The alcohol isn’t settling inside me the way I want it to, though. No, it’s cold and depressing. Making the pain in my chest even stronger.
Notte Scarlatta should fix it though.
Scarlet Night. The night club that’s been in my family’s charge since the late eighties. The nineties were its glory years, but it’s still one of the most popular clubs in the area for locals. At least, those that are looking for more than the sparkly tourist trap bars can give them.
“Mr. Dresvanni…” the bouncer at the front door greets me. There’s a look of pity in his eyes, and I can’t stand it.
If everyone is going to be looking at me like this in here, I might just turn around.
“Shut it,” I tell him before the words I’m sorry for your loss can escape him, or whatever variation of that he might be about to say. “Fiorellis here?”
“Couple of ‘em. Checked before they went in,” he assures me.
“Good. They cause any problems I want them dragged out by their balls.” I toss the guy a hundred-dollar bill and then make my way inside.
Scarlet Night is gritty and sensual. The floors a deep red oak paneling that gives meaning to the name of the club. The scuffs and scrapes in the wood from several decades past don’t stop anyone from coming in.
Off center of the club is the only spot where the floor changes from wood to polished black dance floor.
Overhead lighting casts down a dim orange glow on the writhing and grinding bodies on the dance floor and the patrons sipping their martinis and downing shots at the bar.
There are two bars in the club. One by the dance floor, and one toward the back of the club, where red velvet and black leather booths are tucked into corners and against the walls.
The air smells like cigarettes, vodka, and sex. One of the only clubs in the area where smoking is allowed. Some say it ruins the atmosphere, but I inhale the tobacco smoke like it’s everything I need.
“Carmine, there you are, baby.” A woman with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes shuffles over to me in her black pumps.
“Sasha, there you are. How long’s it been?” I ask her as she puts her hands on the shoulders of my black suit jacket.
Sasha rolls her eyes. “As if you don’t remember the last time you saw me.” She curls her fingers into my jacket and I reach a hand out. I grab her by her hip, feeling the fabric of her tight blue dress under my fingers. The edges of the cheap silver sequins rub against my palm.
“Why don’t you remind me?” I ask her.
She grins at me and grabs me by the sleeve, tugging me toward the back of the club. I let her. Until we’re in the dimmer lighting and the music is slightly muffled.
Then I take charge.
Sasha has no shame as I’m fucking her mouth while she’s on her knees on the club floor. Her fingers dig into my pants, and every single thrust of my hips makes my loosened belt buckle clatter softly.
I’m not sure how long it takes, but it does seem to take longer than normal…eventually I come in her mouth, and she swallows it all like she always does.
“Need a drink…then I’ll fuck you,” I mumble as I’m doing my pants back up.
I need a minute to get hard again, and the suddenly euphoria has already worn off. My eyes are burning. I don’t want her to see.
“Okay, baby,” she says breathlessly and slides into a nearby booth.
“Usual?” the bartender asks.
“Triple,” I tell her.
She pours me a triple shot of rum and I down it. It hardly burns anymore.
“Well, someone’s preparing for Christmas Eve,” she chuckles. “I heard about—”
“No,” I growl. “Not tonight.”
I don’t want to think about how it’s just a few days until Christmas. I don’t need to.
Across the club, I spot one of the Fiorelli drug peddlers. I make a b-line right for him.
“Whatever pills you got, I want two on the house,” I demand.
He eyes me. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“You don’t know our fucking deal, just give it,” I glare at him.
He digs inside his jacket and pulls out some pills, handing me two of them. “If you’ve been drinking—” he starts, and I cut him off.
“I’ll worry about me, you worry about you.” I pop the pills in my mouth, swallow them dry, and turn back around to find Sasha.
The buzz is starting to get warm and fuzzy. The cold feeling of loneliness and sharp edge of pain leaving me as the shots kick in.
“Sasha?” I mumble, looking for her, but she’s not where I left her. I step around one of the booths, and walk directly into her.
She’s not alone.
She’s being fucked by a guy I’ve never seen before from behind.
“You couldn’t fucking wait?” I ask her.
Her face is red, sweaty, and she’s barely able to talk with how much she’s moaning.
“Why don’t you join?” the guy asks breathlessly.
I walk over and grab him by the back of his hair. “This is my club, I make the rules. Get your dick outta her.”
He laughs, which surprises me, but pulls out of Sasha. She whines in disappointment.
As irritated as I am, seeing the two of them fucking has turned me on. Whatever pills I took are also already starting to get to me. I can’t help but laugh in return.
“No, come on…” Sasha complains. “Someone fuck me.”
My skin is tingling. My hands feel…like they aren’t quite my own. Too big for my body, and my legs move on their own accord without me having to think about my next move.
It’s all a blur, the next twenty minutes.
I’m fucking Sasha until she comes one second and the next, the guy whose name I still don’t know is spitting on my dick and sucking me off until it hurts, and I’m hard again.
Sasha leaves, kissing me on the cheek, but I barely notice. The guy leaves too, but I think he’s just getting us more drinks.
My entire body feels like it’s floating way above the club, and I’m so hot and sweaty that I want to take off all of my clothing.
People have noticed us, they had to have, but no one says anything. No one wants to. Several others run away to get off after seeing us themselves.
I feel a hand on my shoulder from behind, and turn around ready to down whatever drink the guy has brought back.
“This is a bad idea.”
Soren.