Mafia Kings: Adriano: Dark Mafia Romance Series #2

Other than the hot-as-hell sex last night…

Talking with Bianca was the nicest evening I’d had as far back as I could remember.

She told me she saw The Devil Wears Prada on DVD when she was eight years old, and that it made her want to be a fashion designer.

“It was Meryl Streep’s speech about cerulean blue that did it,” Bianca said with a huge smile.

“Haven’t seen it,” I said wryly.

“Let me guess: you only watch The Godfather,” she teased me.

“Don’t knock The Godfather. What’s the speech?”

“Anne Hathaway is wearing this blue sweater, and she kind of dismisses fashion… and Meryl Streep says what she doesn’t know is that the sweater isn’t blue, it’s cerulean… and that Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns, and then Yves Saint Laurent did cerulean jackets after that, and then eight other different designers used cerulean in their collections… and millions of dollars and tons of jobs were created by Oscar de la Renta’s work… and that everybody is affected by fashion, even when they don’t realize it, because it all filters down to the clothes that everyday people wear. I wanted that… I wanted to do something that people would think is beautiful and that would end up influencing everybody without them knowing it.”

“You decided that at eight years old?” I said, impressed.

She laughed – a beautiful sound. “I even learned to sew because I wanted to make ‘evening gowns’ out of my neighbor’s old curtains they left out in the trash.”

“Seriously?”

She suddenly looked embarrassed. “I know… it’s kind of dumb…”

“It’s not dumb, it’s awesome. I never had a choice growing up. It was just assumed I was going to go into the family business, and I never even questioned it. You had a dream at eight years old, and here you are making it a reality. That’s pretty fucking amazing.”

She looked up at me shyly. “…you think so?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“But… the odds of me ever getting to that level…”

“Yeah, well, I know this much: Oscar de la Renta didn’t pop out of the womb designing cerulean blue dresses. He started just like you did – like you’re doing right now.”

She sighed. “Yeah, but it’s hard.”

“No doubt.”

“Part of me doesn’t ever think it’s going to happen.”

I shrugged. “After all this is over, maybe I can hook you up with some people.”

She stared at me. “You know people in the fashion industry?!”

“I know people who know people. I’m sure I could call in a favor or two.”

“You’d… do that for me?”

I laughed. “Babe – compared to you risking your life to help me out, a couple of phone calls is nothing. It’s the absolute least I could do.”

“Yeah, but… it’s more like you’re helping me out right now. Finding my dad, I mean.”

“We’re helping each other.”

Her expression was like the sun came out from behind the clouds.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

And I meant it, 100%.

“What about me taking care of you, though?” she asked.

“You took care of me plenty last night and this morning.”

“Mm,” she murmured as she bit her lip, which was sexy as hell. “I’d love to take care of you right now.”

I grinned. “When we get out of here.”

“To be honest, though, you took care of me more than I took care of you. I mean, you ‘took care’ of me over… and over… and over… and over again,” she said in a sexy little purr.

“I’ll take care you of you some more when we get back home.”

I was starting to get a little hot and bothered –

When suddenly things took a turn for the serious.

She averted her eyes when she asked, “When was the last girlfriend you had?”

I answered honestly: “Never.”

She looked up in surprise. “What?! You’re joking.”

“Nope. Not if you mean anything longer than a couple of weeks.”

She looked a little concerned. “Why didn’t anything last?”

That one took a little explaining.

In my early 20s, my life had been a constant parade of women.

The problem with that was they all wanted something:

Money…

Gifts…

Or access to power.

Usually all three.

They wanted to be the girl that drove around with the mafioso in a Ferrari. They wanted to be seen.

They wanted to lounge around all day, go shopping for $10,000 handbags, and then have me fly them to Ibiza for a weekend of drugs and booze.

That shit gets old fast.

Yeah, the chicks enjoyed the sex… and some of them had actually been pretty good in the sack. I’d hooked up with a few of them from time to time.

But they all wanted something from me.

They didn’t want me.

Not really.

And when you’ve got a limitless supply of hot chicks in your life, why settle for just one?

But that had been my early 20s.

Now that I was 28, I was tired of the party lifestyle.

And with everything that had happened since my father died, I had no time for women who wanted to fuck me for what they could get out of me.

Honestly, my patience for it was down to zero…

Now that I’d seen what Dario had with Alessandra.

She was a good girl… a good person.

Beautiful, yes…

But she was with Dario because she wanted him.

In fact, she was totally uneasy with the whole Cosa Nostra thing.

If she could have ditched the mafioso lifestyle – including the money and the mansion – and just moved with Dario out to some shack in the middle of nowhere, I think she would have jumped at the chance.

That was the kind of woman I wanted.

Now that I’d seen it firsthand, I hungered for it.

And it felt like there was an empty hole where that part of my life should be.

Fucking a bunch of women was like taking shots lined up on a bar:

Fun for a while…Original from NôvelDrama.Org.

But the next morning, you have a hell of a hangover and nothing to show for it.

I wanted something that would last.

“Well?” Bianca prodded me again.

“Partly because I was fucked up… and partly because I kept going for fucked-up women,” I finally answered.

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s a ‘fucked-up woman’?”

“The kind who wants to be with a guy because he’s in my line of business.”

“Oh,” she said and made a little face. “Yeah, I can see that. But… what kind of woman do you want?”

I just stared at her and thought,

A woman who’s got a sharp little tongue that keeps me on my toes.

A woman who’s beautiful on the outside…

But has an even MORE beautiful soul deep down.

A woman who’s amazing in bed…

But who only sleeps with me because she wants me to fuck her, not because of what I can buy her.

A woman who knows what loyalty is… and who would risk her life to save the people she loves.

A woman who looks like you.

Of course, I didn’t say any of that.

I just kept it simple:

“Ride or die,” I said.

Bianca nodded thoughtfully. “That’s not just something you say, is it. That’s actually a thing for you… because you don’t know what might happen tomorrow.”

“None of us does,” I said quietly.

“No,” she said and smiled sadly. “None of us does.”