7. Grab Her
Grab Her
Salvatore
“Relax your throat.”
Vittoria’s jaw tenses under my grip. “Relax,” I repeat, hooking my thumb into her mouth to open it wider. Saliva spills down her chin. I smear it across her lips, stretching over my length.
If I didn’t want my hearing, I’d rupture my eardrums with the letter opener. What happened to sucking dick in silence? I’m thick, but I wish she’d shut the fuck up. Her nasally moans sound like a horse with asthma.
“Mmf,” she snorts through a whine.
I reach for the remote to turn off my office lights at her widening stare. The room eases into a veil of shadows. Sconces from the ceiling-height bookshelves cast small trails of light over the imported rug.
“Suck harder.” The silky strands of her brown hair tighten around my fist, which I use to guide her at my preferred pace.
Vittoria is attractive when she doesn’t resemble a dusty grouper. Her round, unblinking eyes and botched lip job while she’s sucking me off are what draw my frown. How is her mouth fat and long?
Her tongue drags over my tip before she works the muscles in her mouth to pull me to the back of her throat. I hold the nape of her neck and thrust deeper. She takes me inch by inch until her nose presses into my zipper.
Finally.
“Mmf.”
“Your uncle—medda.” Andrea shields his eyes from the door. Light from the corridor spills over his black shirt into the room.
“Knock first,” I grunt. My trousers are low on my hips, but not enough for him to see me testing Vittoria’s gag reflex. She’s completely naked, the small arch in her back on display between my legs.
She enjoys exhibitionism.
“Mmf.”
And fucking neighing.
“Chi minchia fù?“ Andrea asks the lights on the other side of the corridor.
“What do you want?” I hiss, angling her face to hit every line in her throat.
“Your uncle is here. Wrap it up.” Andrea closes the door.
The slap of my balls on Vittoria’s chin and the moisture from her mouth drown out her horse sounds. My grip tightens on her cheeks in a long release.
“Swallow.” I grab the remote to turn on the lights.
“I can stay for the rest of the night.” She licks me clean, kissing my softening dick. “Let me make you feel good.”
I push off my desk and stuff myself into my trousers. “A car is out back to take you home. Clean yourself up in the bathroom down the hall.”
Her smile wilts into that damn grouper pout. “I thought—“
“Payment for your services is in your account,” I say from under a pendant lamp illuminating more important shit for me to deal with than her feelings. “The car leaves in six minutes. I suggest you move, unless you prefer the thirty-kilometer walk in heels.”
A scowl hardens her bronzed features. Vittoria is beautiful. Perky tits. A few curves. Warm mouth. She’s one of the approved women who come to this property that I pay to fuck when I need it and who leave once I say it’s time to go.
She snatches her dress from the ground and runs into one of my men waiting in the corridor to escort her off my premises. None of the women have seen the inside of my other homes. Only Vittoria and a few others from Eden spend the night in this property.
Sex for money is a gray area in Italy. The practice is tolerated among consenting adults outside of organized prostitution. Renata looks the other way if one of her employees wants to earn extra money outside of the club.
Many men have fallen because they lead with the wrong head. Weaning myself off the desire to fuck daily took years of discipline. I can withstand for weeks—months, sometimes. No woman will cost me my life by getting distracted. Yet none of my recent encounters have satisfied me.
Andrea steps into the doorway, tilting his head to catch Vittoria swaying down the hall. He hooks his thumb. “Do you have a pet play fetish I don’t know about?”
“Do you have something to tell me?” I stare up from the contracts on my desk in need of a signature.
“I’ll ask you the same question.” Ziu’s tenor slips under the weight of his gaze. His walk is a slow stroll, unhurried and calculated. He slides a hand into his two-piece suit, the glimpse of his gold watch the only hint of color in my all-black office.
“Mind telling me what you were doing in Eden?”
I settle into my office chair. “Ensuring there are no additional liabilities.”
His mouth tightens as he spears me with the same look he gave me when I was a boy who stepped out of line. “Eden is not an issue.”
“No? The same club rival organizations attend, including the one that took my family. Renata has no loyalty to anyone except herself and the highest bidder.”
“Careful, niputi,” my uncle says, palms pressed into the edge of my lacquered desk. “You’re stepping out of line.”
“And you’re losing your touch,” I counter.
Renata earned an in-person visit when she stopped taking my calls.
History and her familiarity with Ziu don’t grant her immunity from my wrath.
She’s a siren who uses the pillows of her lips and her full curves to enchant while men submit control.
I’ve tasted the edge of her melody, as my uncle has.
I learned years ago about the dangers of falling for a temptress since first entering the lifestyle club Ziu financed to get off the ground.
His attachment to her is what keeps a bullet out of her skull. For now.
“Tino went to Eden twice recently.” I inform him about the woman he’s determined to keep safe. “If I find out she’s working with the Preda, I will not hesitate to do what you should’ve decades ago.”
Black curls aged in gray from years raising me catch in the light. Ziu lowers his head. “Sometimes I wish you lived with your nonna and never got involved in this life. Maybe you would be the man your father wanted you to become.”
“I’m who I needed to be.”
My innocence died with my parents thirty-one years ago.
When I told my uncle I wanted to make the people responsible for their deaths pay, I did.
I took my first life that year, at eleven.
Within months, one body became ten. I felt as numb then as I do now, with an appetite for murder and vengeance that’s waned over the years.
A little.
Ziu sighs, his disappointment at the man he helped create set into his glower. “Just tell me before you make a move next time. I’m too old for another fucking war.”
I stand and adjust my suit. “Keep a tighter leash on Renata. I’ll take care of Tino.”
“Renata is never to be touched. Find another way with Tino. No wars.” My uncle’s tone is final.
Andrea whistles lowly once Ziu leaves. “The Americans have a show called Family Feud. You two should set your differences aside. There’s a cash prize.”
“Our differences are our differences,” I say, focused on the contracts still in need of my attention. “Is it set up?”
“My team hacked Eden’s surveillance. I also had additional cameras installed in Renata’s office. We’ll receive alerts when Tino or other Preda members enter. Your uncle will get mad if you move around him.”
“Does it look like I give a fuck?” I lift my head for Andrea to guess the answer.
“He’s hiding something.” What, I don’t know.
It’s not like him to be so carefree about the Preda getting comfortable at Eden or with a woman he cares more about than he should.
“He’s retired, which means staying out of business that no longer involves him. ”
“That’s cold,” Andrea says.
“I learned from the best.”
Every operation I’ve set into motion relies on me being ruthless. Ziu taught me pain over mercy, iron above emotions. None of that changes because he did.
“Is Spinneli at the location?” I ask.
“Arrived two minutes ago,” Andrea confirms.
I don’t bother glancing up when I say,“ Take the shot.”
Andrea follows me out of my office.
“You should be less cranky after a fuck.” He checks his watch. “Didn’t last three minutes after that woman with the horse spirit left.”
I nod at my men, who open the door to a private entrance I had installed. My knuckle taps the button for the elevator to the underground garage, fortified with reinforced concrete and steel to withstand explosions.
“You should switch your women up,” Andrea says.
“And you should mind your own dick.”
Aldo waits by my car to drive me to our meeting. I’ll go back to Castiglione de Sicilia later tonight.
“Did I hit a nerve?” Andrea chides from the driver’s side of his car.
I’ll regret asking this. “What’s the number of the woman you call from up north?”
He grins. “Bianca. I’ll text you her info. A good fuck might make you more tolerable.”
Andrea keeps a roster that he flies in for weekends. We’re attracted to the same women, so looks aren’t in question.
Maybe Bianca is what I need.
“The people around this table have proven their loyalty to the Scilari and our alliance.” I look from Angelo to Emil. Andrea is to my right with a plate of lobster ravioli meant to be shared.
Emil is the first to ask the obvious. “Where is Nunzio?”
“Dead,” I say over my scotch glass.
“Is it safe to speak freely?” Angelo glances at the rectangular chandelier above our food.
Don’t call him an idiot to his face.
“Would I have mentioned a dead man if it wasn’t?”
He squints at the coffered ceiling like the answer will appear.
Our suite on the luxury cruise liner is the only room available on the floor. The rest are “under construction.” Unless someone scaled the side of the ship undetected, no one is listening.
“Andrea scrubbed the suite like he does every time we meet. We have a sound masking system in place. As I was saying…” I cut my eyes at Angelo. He’s still thinking. “My patience these days is thinner than what’s left of Nunzio.”
Emil shifts in his seat. “What happened?”
“He got caught working with a gang planning to move on your territory and fit nicely inside one of the new filleting machines for my distribution center. After I beheaded him.” I lift a plate. “Tuna tartare, anyone?”
Emil’s lips press together, shifting the wrinkles under his toupee. “No thank you.”
Angelo’s face pales like we’re out at sea and not docked.
Andrea’s fingers wiggle over the two pieces he grabs and shovels into his mouth.
The difference between inherited positions and enforcement work before taking the reins plays out across the table. Emil and Angelo have never gotten their hands dirty, and it shows. They’re gaping at the plate like human flesh is on it and not tuna.
Andrea and I racked up kills before we were teenagers. I’m not proud of taking lives so young, but people think twice about fucking with us.
Emil tips what’s left of his hair to me. “We appreciate your support, Mr. Bennici. Your leadership since taking over your family has helped us maintain our markets.”
Killing Nunzio wasn’t a courtesy. He got messy working with trafficking smugglers in my fucking city. Andrea and I steer clear of the drug business and old-school methods of gaining power within our crime organization.
Racketeering.
Extortion.
Counterfeiting.
The Scilari has one rule: no human trafficking or face death.
I wave him off. “Mr. Bennici is my uncle.”
Angelo and Emil are from Ziu’s era. My uncle formed the alliance decades ago.
I continued the longstanding tradition after I took over the Bennici clan, one of the strongest in the Scilari.
Andrea became his own clan with an alliance of “cousins” who aren’t his blood relatives.
His software knowledge and hacking abilities make him a force in operational security.
Angelo clears his throat. “Any threat to you or Mr. Trapiani—“
Andrea cuts his eyes.
“Andrea,” he clarifies, “is a direct threat to us. The Preda are encroaching on our drug business. We’ve heard through our channels that they’re forming an alliance with another family outside of the area.”
Alliances aren’t uncommon. Andrea and I have them. It’s good business to work with potential rivals.
“We’ll touch base with our contact soon,” I say about the arms they purchase through us. “Change your routes. Emil, a meeting with your contact in the Regional Assembly might provide additional clarity.”
He nods.
Andrea eyes the table. “I won’t stress the importance of limiting the flow of information within your clans. Tighten your shit up to reduce leaks.”
Dinner ends with a renewed agreement to continue our partnership—into war, internal or external.
Between our businesses, no other Scilari clan touches Andrea or me.
Access to our information networks, countermeasures to evade law enforcement, and guns make us sources of power and envy.
Anyone is welcome to challenge us, but if it’s a matter of death, they’ll die before we do.
The sun fades over the Ionian Sea as the first sign of night clings to the waves. When was the last time I paid attention to a sunset?
Andrea joins me at the balcony window. “We should bump our meeting with Elio up,” I say.
“I’ll look into who the Preda is working with in the area. Should we call anyone in?”
“Not yet. If we retaliate with full force, every politician and police officer in the Preda’s pocket will make an example of us.”
Whoever’s attacking our alliance is cautious. Calculated. They’re smart enough to test us without actions that reveal their identity.
“Let’s feed people different information,” Andrea suggests. “If there’s another hit, we’ll know who it is.”
“You’re smart when you’re not being an ass.”
“How’s this for smart: We got an alert on the woman you’ve been looking for.”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
He shrugs. “There’s a lot going on. We’re killing more. Meetings.”
Testa di minchia.
“Her name is Diana. A few men are on their way to Naples now to grab her.”
“Call me once she’s been transported. I want her in my basement for questioning,” I say.
I didn’t plan on staying in Catania. If Diana is here, I’ll schedule Bianca to come out.