Chapter 22 Alessio
Alessio
Beso and his petty complaints had just been handled this morning when my father had called with more bad news.
A drug shipment had been intercepted by the same MCs the club owner was bitching about.
They were getting too bold, like the Bratva, so we reminded them of the pecking order in Vegas.
Much like the beating I gave Rocco over my wedding day security fiasco before he slunk off back to Reno, it’s a lesson the motorcycle club won’t soon forget.
It’s been a bloody, fucked-up day, and all I want to do is go home and take another shower. With her. Her soft skin and softer moans this morning… fuck, it was perfection even before she got me off with her hand again.
But Caterina calls me unexpectedly. She’s never called me before and she begs so prettily. No doubt that’s why I let her have her way. “You want to come to Chosen tonight?” I repeat. Did I even mention where I was going when we were in the shower earlier? I don’t recall much conversation.
“Yes. With you, Alessio. We’re married, but we’ve never even been on a date. I’ve never been on a date at all.”
“That’s good because I would be forced to kill any fucker who took you anywhere.” She scoffs through the phone as if she doubts my word. I can picture her rolling those pretty eyes, too. “I don’t think Chosen is the sort of first date place you’re imagining, Caterina.”
“It’s a nightclub, isn’t it? That’s what Gia says. Not one of those places like Club Oasis.” It’s cute that she can’t even bring herself to call a whorehouse a whorehouse.
“You’re not twenty-one yet,” I clip, pretending I won’t agree.
“I don’t have to drink. I just want to dance. How old were you when you first went there?”
Far younger than she is, that’s for certain. I used to spend a lot of time around Chosen when getting my dick wet was still a newer experience for me. Now, I normally only go there when business demands it.
“Why the fuck did you agree to this?” Armando asks me sourly an hour later. “Barzetti will be pissed off if he hears Gia’s coming here.”
“Why are you so pissed off over that, Armando?” He won his race the other night. I don’t get his mood lately.
“I’m not pissed off,” my best friend says, sounding more pissed off. “I’m glad you’re not miserable, but Caterina’s really got you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”
“Fuck you,” I snarl though I’m beginning to question that, too. It wouldn’t be wise. A good Capo must put the Trio first, even over wives and children. And, if my father realizes that I don’t despise my wife and don’t wish to harm her, that will lead to serious problems.
“I don’t answer to that old fucker my sister married, and my wife wanted to bring another girl with her. Frankie’s back in Reno, Sofia’s still moping over her upcoming wedding, and Gia was willing. Hell, she could use a night out. Maybe she’ll cheat on the bastard.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Armando says, not sounding any less pissed at the thought. “He’d better not beat her ever again.”
I nod in agreement though there’s little I can do for Gia when she returns to Chicago. Our father married her to the son of a bitch in the first place, and one thing a Capo doesn’t do is interfere in his men’s personal lives so long as it doesn’t threaten the Trio, not even in his own territory.
I tell Armando to look sharp when a car I recognize pulls up. Two guards from the house climb out first, and the club’s security personnel step back because no De Luca is to be carded, questioned or made to wait behind the velvet rope in this town. Ever.
Then, Caterina steps out of the car in this sexy little dress that melts my brain.
Unlike the dress that clearly made her miserable two years ago, she seems to relish wearing this one.
I wonder what has changed. Whatever it is, she looks fucking fantastic.
Her legs are making my mouth water and, if she’s wearing a bra, I sure as hell can’t tell.
Why the fuck did I agree to this? I’ll be gouging out eyeballs all night to keep men from ogling my delectable wife.
But she only has eyes for me when she hurries over with a radiant smile on her face.
I can feel her girlish enthusiasm and my lips twitch.
I have to resist the urge to smile here where we’re not alone.
I can’t resist possessively wrapping my arm around her waist, cupping her ass before I recall we’re not in private.
Fuck. Showing concern for her in public is foolish.
She’s nothing more than my pretty young bride I enjoy bedding.
That’s all anyone should see or believe.
All an enemy would need is to sense an advantage in using her as a way to get at me, the way my father recognized that Caterina’s brothers might be weak for her.
I think I understand them better than I ever expected to.
It’s hard to act as indifferent around Caterina as I should when she smiles at me like that.
“Let’s go. Armando, keep Gia safe for me while I show my wife around. We won’t stay long. This place is fucking dead tonight anyway,” I say curtly before sweeping Caterina into the club.
With an inward sigh, I note the way she stiffens at my harsh tone before she’s too stunned by the loud music and flashing lights to say anything.
I walk her toward the bar, urging her to sit down while she gets oriented, and I try to reclaim my customary cruel mask.
“What’s wrong?” Glancing down at her question, I realize Caterina is worrying at her plump bottom lip with her teeth, staring up at me with big doe eyes filled with concern.
I scowl, not understanding why she’s asking.
“Do you not like that I’m here? I heard you liked this place. ”
I raise my eyebrows. “I didn’t say I didn’t like you being here. Who told you I liked this place? Gia?”
She keeps biting at her lip as she glances away. “Yeah.”
My hackles rise along with my eyebrows. She’s lying. “Why did you want to come here tonight?” I ask, trying to decide how best to get the truth from her. My typical methods won’t ever be used on Caterina.
“I just… I’ve never been to a nightclub or on a date. I wanted to be here with you.” At least that sounded sincere.
I order a scotch on the rocks and tell her she can have whatever she wants.
The bartender never says a peep as she orders some fruity concoction, taking a big sip and then making a face.
Such a girl, I think, wryly. As if she’s read my mind, she scowls at me and asks to try mine.
Downing it in one shot, I grasp her wrist as she splutters. “Go easy on that.”
“It’s not our wedding reception, and I’ve been allowed to drink a glass of wine with dinner since I became a betrothed woman.”
“Is that meant to impress me?” I ask, chuckling in spite of myself. “You’re still about to choke on it, aren’t you?”
She stifles a final cough, making another disgusted face that has me laughing as her scowl deepens. It’s fucking cute, and I can’t help kissing her forehead. The scowl melts away in an instant, and she gives me that dreamy-eyed look I’m finding it very difficult to ignore.
It also gives me an advantage. “Who really told you I liked this place? It wasn’t Gia.”
She stares at her drink. “Bibi said…” Bibi?
What the hell did my step-mother tell her?
I wait for Caterina to continue rather than demanding the answer.
“Over breakfast, your father mentioned you going to Chosen for business and then Bibi told me afterwards that you had mistresses here.” Fucking Bibi.
“I know what you said the other night, but I couldn’t stop thinking of you being gone all day and surrounded by beautiful women and… ”
“I’ve been surrounded by blood and guts more than beautiful women today, kitten.” Cupping her cheek, I stare into her astonished eyes. “And you are the only beautiful woman who interests me.”
She flushes. “So, there’s no mistresses?”
“I’ve never had a mistress in that sense, but I used to come here to find girls to fuck.”
“Are any of them here tonight?” Goddamn, the uncertainty in her voice guts me.
“No, kitten. Or, if they are, I don’t remember them. It’s not like we dated, or I’d ever dream of taking them home.”
Her eyes are wide with distress and uncertainty. “If you didn’t take them home, did you have sex with them here?”
I clench my jaw before deciding on honesty. “Occasionally. But, that’s in the past. Remember what we promised each other, Caterina, and the next time Bibi’s talking shit, ask me about it instead of believing the worst.” Though the worst may be true at times.
“I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “Never apologize for my past. You’re my wife, and the only woman I want, okay?”
She smiles, clearly relieved, and drains the contents of her cocktail before telling the bartender she wants another. I’m not sure that’s a good idea, but that fucking smile has me letting it slide.
For a time, we drink and people watch. A few of our men who are here partying tonight come over, giving Caterina respectful nods. The women they’re with are not brought over or introduced. They’re not wives, they’re outsiders, and Caterina will never see them again.
Beso comes over to introduce himself, his eyes raking up and down Caterina’s form in her hot little dress.
I recall what Armando told me of Beso’s sexual preferences – young girls, very young, when he’s in his late forties.
I tell him she’s my wife in a tone that’s unmistakable, and the club owner nearly shits himself, kissing ass and backing away. Maybe he’s not a complete fool.