Chapter 37 – Alessandro
T he caporegimes of the Mancini Famiglia sat around the long table. Several capos wanted to go downstairs and enjoy the dancers with the other patrons of the Mezza Luna. A couple wanted to be at home with their wives and family. The rest wore varying degrees of boredom on their faces. Only my enforcer standing behind me and my underboss at my right hand were alert.
They sensed the danger simmering beneath the surface.
“With your permission, don, we’ll call this meeting to order.” Luca tapped his stylus against the tablet screen in front of him. The assistant wasn’t fazed by the group of killers surrounding him.
I straightened the sleeves of the undershirt, making sure the cuffs popped. “Gentlemen, thank you for meeting me on such short notice.”
Murmurs spread through the room.
“It seems we have a problem that requires our immediate attention.” I flicked my fingers, and Dante stepped forward, black garbage bag rustling in his hands.
An object sailed across the room to land on the table with a sickening thunk.
The silence that followed the enforcer’s dramatic display pulsed with a heady mix of fear and disgust.
My insides churned as the stench invaded the room. The bastard hadn’t bothered to freeze his prop for the meeting, but the scent of rotting flesh didn’t bother the enforcer.
“Who was that?” Nuncio gagged.
“Take a close look,” I commanded.
The capos winced, but several leaned forward.
“The Minstrel worked him over good,” Joe grumbled. The capo was still pissy that I’d shot his men for entering my home without permission. “It’s impossible to tell.”
“Maybe this will help you recognize him, Adonis,” I said coldly.
Dante tossed another body part on the table.
I felt the charity dinner threaten to make a reappearance as the flayed skin flopped open next to the severed head. Gruesome. Dante was downright demented.
I told him to bring the arm. Not peel off the tattoo-marked skin from the flesh.
But right now was not the time to critique my enforcer on his visual aids for this business meeting.
“That was Saint Nick!” Olando exclaimed. The capo’s face going deathly pale.
The underboss cleared his throat. “Nicolo Marechetti was discovered speaking with a federal agent.”
“Did you know he was using drugs, Romano?” I asked my capo.
Olando shook his head vehemently. “No, signore! I knew he was steep in credit card debt, but I didn’t realize he was using.”
“The fed threatened to put him away for life on drug charges,” Antonio said plainly.
I nodded to my underboss. “We discovered he was passing information and took swift measures to silence him.”
The unspoken subtext hung in the air. This was what happened to those who ratted out our famiglia.
“We should have been told,” Joe said, pushing his fingers hard against the polished table. “There was no need for theatrics, signore.”
“This is me telling you,” I shot back.
But the capo didn’t back down. “You haven’t filled the position of advisor, Don Mancini. A consigliere would have told you that your captains needed to know there was a problem. He would have allowed us to take care of the issue.”
I gave the capo a withering look. “To prove your loyalty by shooting the snitch yourself?”
Adonis shut his mouth quickly.
I thought so. Joe Adonis hadn’t executed a single soldier in his years as a leader. He deferred punishment to his lackeys.
“Signore, have you thought more about restructuring to fill the role of consigliere?” At least Nuncio was polite about his query.
The focus of the room quickly shifted from the grotesque execution of a traitor to me. Keeping my careful mask of control in place, I slid a look from one man to the next.
“When I make such an important decision, you will be the first to know,” I informed them. “In the meantime, make sure your men know what happened to Saint Nick.”
Pushing to my feet, I snapped my fingers. “Dante, clean this shit up.”
The bastard smirked around the piece of beef jerky he was gnawing on. I sighed inwardly. Dante and I were close, but he didn’t want the position of being my counselor. And truth be told, he wouldn’t be good at it. His strengths lay in information extraction and problem mitigation. No…I needed someone I could depend on implicitly. Someone who wouldn’t shoot first and ask questions later.
Not a soul in this room held the potential to live up to that task.
When I sent my wife and sister home from the charity dinner, I expected they would be in bed by the time the business meeting with my commanders was concluded. Upon walking into the thick gloom of the foyer, a light down the back corridor caught my attention. I prowled forward, senses on high alert.
It was Penelope, still in her gown. My wife was curled on the sofa, reading device dangling from her sleeping fingertips. Without waking her, I pulled the eReader away, only pausing to glance at what she’d last read. Someone called a wing leader was fighting in a pit as the female soldier watched from above.
I scrolled to the next page—and the next.
The couple were in some deep argument. Some drama from their past kept them at odds, while a situation with their dragons bound them in the present. Noting the title, I resolved to read the book. I wanted to know if the female with silver-tipped hair ever forgave the brutal warrior.
I would have started reading the book tonight, but exhaustion pulled at my bones. So I covered Penelope with a throw from the hidden compartment of the footstool and went upstairs. But as I undid the fastenings of my tuxedo, my mind raced.
Too many threads tangled together.
I was the don, the leader of my organization. But I was also a husband, the protector of my family. Penelope hated the restraints I decreed were necessary for her safety. It was impossible to be cold and ruthless with her, enforcing the rules as I did with my men.
“I have to change something,” I groaned, pushing my hand through my hair.
The scent of jasmine lingered in the bathroom. The moment I stepped in here, my dick twitched.
Dammit, just another thing that would keep me awake.
I glanced at the tub. My wife found soaking to be relaxing. She took a bath whenever she was wound up.
Maybe there’s something to that.
And it wasn’t as though my men would find out I soaked in bubbles and scented oils. It could be a secret. The decision to test the relaxation method settled over me, and I began to fill the tub with scalding water. I dumped in the salts, the bubbles, and finished with the exotic floral oil.
“This does not make me a pussy,” I growled, stepping into the bath.
To make it less feminine, I plucked a cigar from my case as I removed the leather strap and pendant that only came off when I showered or slept with my wife.
As the hot water soaked away the strain in my body, I realized what I’d been missing. Sighing, I relaxed into the water, closed my eyes, and let the events of the past days, weeks, and months play through my mind on repeat. The rich tobacco soothed me, but not as much as the hot water. Not pausing to examine any one thing in particular, they danced in a chaotic revel through my mind. I let them come and go, trusting that they would sort themselves out.
I always found a way.
A teasing voice broke through the cacophony in my head. “Well don’t you look comfy.”
Shit. My wife caught me lounging like some pampered, lazy nutcase. I squinted up at her.
“I think you used too much oil,” she mused, nose wrinkling. “It doesn’t mingle well with a Cuban.”
I shrugged. “I was in a hurry.”
Leaning forward, my little wasp plucked the cigar. Her rosy lips pressed around it as she took a long pull. My dick stiffened at the sight.
I fucking loved that she stole my cigars to taste.
Exhaling, she set in back on the tray instead of stamping it out. The darkness inside my soul hummed in approval.
“Well, I tried to wait up to make sure you got home okay, but I must have dozed off,” Penelope said with a shrug.
“You didn’t have to.” But I’m glad you did.
It was nice to know someone wanted to make sure I came back safely. I never had that before.
She yawned, but then smiled. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“No.” Moving with lightning speed, I snatched her wrist and yanked her forward.
With a yelp, she dropped her shoes and eReader just in time before I tugged her—dress and all—into the tub. Water sloshed from the tub, the sound covered by her yelp of surprise.
“You’re joining me,” I growled.
The shock and mixture of emotions on her face was priceless. I cupped the back of her head, forcing her down for a swift kiss. She tasted of rich tobacco and dark sin with a hint of sweetness undercutting it that was all her—an intoxicating flavor.
“Alessio,” she breathed.
“Just kiss me, woman.”
She gave in to the pull. The humid air of the bathroom seemed to crackle with electricity. My fingers tangled in her hair, eliciting a moan against my mouth. The thing I’d come to realize about my little wasp was that she wasn’t afraid of a little pain with her pleasure.
Time slowed as the kiss deepened. Unlike the brutal collisions of past kisses, there was something almost gentle about this one.
Penelope melted into me. I savored the feel of her in my arms.
My hands slid down her back, tracing the curve of her spine. She shivered, her fingernails digging into my shoulders. The gentleness was satiating, but I could feel the heat building between us, threatening to ignite into something wilder, to overwhelm the moment. There was something more here—and I was desperate to explore that apart from the fast and hard fucking we normally enjoyed.
I broke the kiss, trailing my lips along her jaw and down her neck. Penelope tilted her head, giving me better access. Her breath came in short gasps, each one sending a thrill through my body.
“Alessio,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire.
The sound of my name on her lips was almost my undoing. It would be too easy to rip the dress off her body, push her down onto my hard length, and take her hard in the tub. Instead, I pressed her against me, my body flush against hers.
Our eyes met, and for a moment, time stood still. There was a vulnerability in her gaze that I'd never seen before. I didn’t know how to reach it, only that I wanted to claim it for my own.
Treasure it until my dying breath.
“Tell me, lupo, what nightmares are bad enough to trouble a monster like you?” Penelope leaned down to press her lips against my throat.
My wife hates me. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. But I had to tell her something. Giving into the pull of the moment, I confided in her. “I lost a dear friend and loyal soldier late last year.”
Penelope pulled back. “Gunfight?”
I snorted. “He would have rather died that way.”
Her hazel eyes widened at my brutal honesty.
“He died of cancer. It was fast and aggressive, but those last weeks were filled with an unbearable pain,” I said, unable to stop the story from pouring out.
“Alessio,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.”
I plucked her fingers and placed a kiss on the tips. “Thank you, vespina.”
My wasp had a sweet side. I wanted—no, I craved more of that part of her.
What price will it take to earn that, little wife?
“You miss him,” she surmised, her voice impossibly soft and genuinely sweet.
“I do. But it’s more than losing a friend. He was important to me. To the famiglia. Tell me, how familiar are you with the structure of a mob?” I studied her face.
That mask snapped into place. “I know what can be read online.”
And you know more than that. I tested her further. “Carmelo was my consigliere. He helped when I took over the position as don. Two decades older than me, he was invaluable.”
“He was your advisor.” Penelope saw the truth.
Admiration filled my chest. She was clever, this little wife of mine. I leaned back further, sinking deeper into the tub, which shifted her higher on my lap. The apex of her thighs grazed against my hard length, but I didn’t push her to go further.
No, I was enjoying this closeness too much to end it.
“Do you miss talking to him?” Penelope asked gently.
“I do.”
There’d been no one to fill his shoes. No one trustworthy enough to unload my problems to. Not Serena, not Leo, not even Dante, who warred with me in the trenches. I was alone.
But I didn’t have to be.
The hazel eyes staring back at me held a certain promise.
The outburst from the back corridor of the museum replayed in my mind. This woman had been an average student in high school. The scholarships she’d applied for had been denied. Instead of going into debt to obtain higher education, she’d taken a job where she worked hard to move as high in position as possible, and then when money was tight, had found a way to earn more to help her sister.
I wanted her to trust me enough to talk about her past. The dossier we’d compiled left too many pieces to the imagination. What lengths could we go to if we only opened up to one another?
Penelope was capable of doing far more than people—including herself—gave her credit for.
It would be a crime not to use that.
But that would require a sacrifice on my part. The empire I ruled had been won and built because of my iron control. Letting another person in was more frightening than facing an enemy in a gunfight.
“Come on, let’s put you to bed,” I murmured, pulling her off me.
Penelope let me lift her to stand. I helped her peel the dress off her body but then wrapped a towel around her before taking one for myself. When I helped her out of the tub, I noticed the raw spots on her feet.
My voice came out harsher than I meant it. “What happened?”
She snorted. “I played dress up for society tonight, what do you think happened?”
Despite her protests, I lifted her onto the counter. “You need shoes that don’t leave blisters.”
This time, her short laugh of derision was coupled with an eyeroll. I took the first aid kid from under the sink and set to work drying, cleaning, and bandaging the wounds.
“You don’t have to do that, lupo,” Penelope protested.
“You’re right, I don’t.” I moved to the other foot. “But I want to.”
“Did you want to with Elena?” she whispered.
Hearing my dead wife’s name on her lips sent a bolt of regret through me. But I answered her honestly. “No, and I regret it every day.”
Penelope nodded, taking my words into consideration. Not sure how much she knew, I was careful how much I wanted to add.
“Our fathers arranged the match, and she died before I could give her enough.”
“I wonder that you were so eager to marry Poppy.” There was an accusation behind her words.
“It would have been different.”
“How?” she demanded.
I sighed. “Because I would have moved heaven and earth to give her everything she needed.”
“And you knew what a nineteen-year-old bride needed?” Penelope countered.
“I know what my twenty-five-year-old bride needs.” I gingerly touched her wounds. “I’m a better caretaker now, vespina. I understand that part of my marital duty.”
Something flickered through her eyes, making the green and amber flecks sparkle. It was vulnerability laced with another emotion I couldn’t quite name.
Right before I finished, my phone rang.
“I’ve got it,” she murmured, taking the bandage from my fingers. “You’d better answer that. It’s probably important.”
I knew it would be. Midnight calls always were in my line of work. But as I left the bathroom, I threw a look over my shoulder. A good husband would have stayed, taken care of his wife, and then made love to her.
My finger stabbed the green button. Dante began to rattle off the latest disaster in my ear, but my only thought was that I wasn’t cut out to be the good husband my wife deserved.