Mafia Obsession

Elio

“Try to smile,” Luca says, nudging me in the arm.

I glance at my little brother, shaking my head. “Maybe you smile too much.”

“We’re going to make a lot of money tonight.”

“By partnering with low-level street criminals. We don’t know enough about their operation. We don’t know enough about their income streams. We haven’t properly vetted them.”

“Building the stadium is a big project,” Luca says. He steeples his fingers, just like Dad often does… or did before his stroke. Luca’s hair hasn’t turned silver yet. He’s thirty-two, an entire decade younger than me, and it’s often difficult to see him as the man he is. “They’ve got the contact. They came to us because we’ve got the manpower. It’s a win-win.”

“Maybe it is,” I say, “but I’d feel more comfortable if we knew more.” “If you were officially the don, what would you do?”

Luca adds officially because, since Dad’s stroke, I’ve been handling the Family business. Dad barely has any input. That’s another reason this is so damn troubling. I thought Dad was relaxing in his apartment, being tended

to by Mom and his staff. Then he calls me in for a meeting with the construction contract but not with the Italian mob. Not even with the Irish mob or the Bratva. We will be in business with a low-level gang known as the Shanks.

“Even their name is stupid,” I grunt.Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

“The Shanks,” Luca says, nodding. “I agree. It’s a little dramatic.”

“It sounds like something a bunch of kids would brand themselves-a bunch of high schoolers wanting to seem tough. Dad’s always been proud of the Family, maybe too proud. He’s refused to work on lucrative contracts because it meant working outside the Family, but now…”

“You think too much,” Luca says, sounding grumpy. “One of us has to,” I reply.

“I’m just following Dad’s orders. Just because he’s had a stroke, it doesn’t mean he’s a different man, Elio.”

I close my eyes and let the car carry us through the city. There’s no point getting into this discussion with Luca. No matter what I say, he won’t accept that Dad is, in fact, not the man he once was. His mind has slowed as much as his movements.

“You need a woman,” Luca says a moment later. “That would set you right.”

“You sound like Mom.”

“Maybe she has a point. You’re an old man.”

I laugh gruffly. “Don’t I know it, but there’s too much work.”

“Even before you were acting don, you weren’t interested. Mom thought you were gay for a while. Then she saw you weren’t interested in that, either.”

“Maybe I was put on this earth to be a cold bastard and handle business, and that’s all. You’ll find a wife once you leave the clubs and the bars behind. You’ll carry on the family name. That’s enough.”

I grind my teeth and look out the window, watching the city pass us by. We’re on our way to a restaurant with no ties to either the Family or the… Goddamn, it’s hard even to think it’s so ridiculous-the Shanks.

“Are you happy, though?”

“Happy?” I snap. “What does that even mean? I work fourteen, fifteen, sixteen hours a day to keep this family afloat. When you’re with your women and bottles, I’m in the office, settling accounts until my eyes hurt. Happy doesn’t come into it.”

Luca huffs. “Maybe you’re using all that work as an excuse. Did you ever think about that?”

“I love you, Luca, but don’t forget I can kick your ass.” He laughs darkly. “Now I know I’ve hit a nerve.”

We don’t say anything for the rest of the ride. We won’t argue like this in front of anybody else. Soon, we’ll be all business. Luca and Elio Marino, our reputations are known throughout the city. Hell, throughout the whole East Coast.

The driver presses the intercom button. A light appears above the partition. I press down on my button, meaning we can hear him, and he can hear us. Otherwise, he can’t hear a thing. It’s a necessity in our life.

The car slowly comes to a stop. “Sirs, we are here.” “Thank you,” I say, reaching for the door.

“Wait,” Luca says. “Let one of the men open it. It’ll make you look more important.”

“To who? The Shanks?” I push the door open.

“Relax,” Luca says quietly from beside me.

We’re sitting at a table in the corner of the restaurant. Our men sit on the other side in case anything goes down and they need to spring into action. If we were in a Family place, they’d be shouting, joking, and laughing, but I’ve instructed them to behave like civilians. I don’t want any undue attention.

“We’ve been stood up by the Shanks,” I say. “It’s only been ten minutes.”

“Only,” I repeat. “If you were them-if you had the chance to do business with the Marinos-you’d be early, and so would I.”

There’s nothing Luca can say in response to that. He crosses his arms and slumps back in his seat. I remember when he was five, and I was fifteen, wrestling with him in the garden, holding him over my head and laughing as he thrust his hands in front of him, his gap-toothed grin wide as he flew through the air.

“Dad said we have to meet with them,” Luca says when I shift in my seat. “I respect Father,” I say, “but-”

“Uh-oh. I know something bad is coming if you called him Father.”

“But I’m not going to wait here all night. For Dad, we’ll give the assholes five more minutes. If anybody else pulled some shit like this, though…”

“I know,” Luca says quietly. “I just want what’s best for Dad. He looked so excited when he talked about this deal.”

I bite down on my response. Luca’s living in a fantasy world when he talks like this. Dad’s tone and demeanor don’t change these days, no matter what he’s talking about. Yet Luca thinks he can see through the condition to the man he once was. Maybe I’m a cold, grim bastard, but I don’t have it in me to convince him otherwise.

“Five minutes,” I say, “and then…”

I can’t talk. My throat is suddenly tight. My balls pulse. Pulse. Is this what going insane feels like?

A waitress is walking across the restaurant. She’s got her light brown hair tied up in a bun, the color so pale it’s almost red, but not quite. Her uniform hugs tight to her hips, highlighting her curviness, her thick, beautiful legs in tights that make me want to howl and find every other man in here who’s admiring her and royally mess them up.

She sways her hips from side to side as she approaches our table. I don’t think she’s doing it on purpose. I’ve been around enough women who are intent on seducing me to know the difference. This is just her gorgeous thickness, moving her voluptuous, young body from side to side, hypnotizing me.

She stops at the edge of our table, letting me see her captivating light blue eyes and full cheeks. Her face is flushed and red. She looks so damn… fertile. Fertile? What’s wrong with me? But it’s the truth. I want to hold her, kiss her, bend her over and spank her ass and then slip into her tight slit and fuck her until she’s pregnant.

I never wanted a family before. Now I need one.

No, slow down. Think. Has somebody spiked my drink?

She looks down at me, seeming panicked. Maybe she knows who I am. Or perhaps I’m just letting my feelings show way too obviously on my face. I could dart out of my chair, grab those thick hips, and pull her against me so she felt my hard manhood against her body. I’d turn her around and grind against her ass.

“Are you ready to order, gentlemen?” she asks.

“Still waiting on somebody, doll,” Luca says, waving a hand at the empty seats.

I scowl at him. He tilts his head, silently asking me what the issue is, but there’s no way I can explain it. I can’t tell him that hearing him call her doll sends violent, deranged thoughts into my head. I can’t tell him that nobody ever gets to talk to her like that.

“Thank you…” I lean forward and look at her name tag, pinned to the tempting shape of her breast. “Scarlet.”

Her cheeks turn even more the color of her name. She nods, turns, and walks away. I struggle not to stare. It’s not just how sexy she is. I mean, it is that. It’s that big ass, made for caressing, for spanking, for owning. It’s her legs, making me think what she’d sound like if I stripped her naked and bit down on her curviness. It’s also just… her, like her soul is calling to mine.

“You good?” Luca says.

“What?” I turn to him. “Fine.” “Do you know her?”

“Who?”

He tilts his head at me. My little brother can seem like a party animal to some people. They mistake his love of clubs and bars and women for a lack of intelligence, but he’s a perceptive man. He sees something. It’s not like he will instantly know I needed her the second I saw Scarlet. I need her. He’s not going to know that I’d kill and die for her already.

“What do you mean, who?” he says after a pause. “The waitress. Scarlet. Is she Family?”

“No,” I reply.

“Then why did you get so touchy when I called her doll?” “I didn’t.”

“But you did…” “You’re wrong.”

“Okay, Elio,” he says, clearly not believing me. “Fair enough.”

A minute later, the leader of the Shanks finally appears. He’s a short man, around five-six, five-seven. He’s wearing a leather jacket, and his black hair is combed back with so much product it glistens in the overhead lights. He has a few men with him, but they take a different table like ours.

“Fellas,” he says, with a way-too-familiar tone. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Again?” I ask, my thoughts still on Scarlet, my world spinning over and over as I try to make sense of all this heat.

Luca glares at me. “We met at Dad’s birthday party, remember?”

Ah, right. Vaguely. A quick handshake. “Of course,” I say, forcing a smile onto my face. “It’s good to see you again…” What’s his goddamned name? It’s so difficult to think about anything else.

“Russel,” Luca says, walking around the table and shaking his head.

Russel. Russel Greene. That’s right-a two-bit criminal with an angry look in his eyes. He clearly thinks I should be kneeling at his feet. He hasn’t mentioned the fact he’s late, which pisses me the hell off. It doesn’t matter if you’re the president or the lowest of the low. If a man says he’ll be somewhere, he should be on time.

“Shall we get some drinks?” Russel says. “Amen,” Luca replies.

“I’m fine with soda,” I say, taking my seat.

This gets another not-so-subtle look from Russel.

Scarlet

I’m in the bathroom, breathing way too hard, trying to get a hold of myself. I don’t know what the hell happened when I approached the table. Two men were sitting there, one shorter with black hair, and the other…

He was tall and broad, wearing a stylish dark blue suit. His hair was streaked with silver, and his eyes were dark, maybe brown, but they looked black and intense. When his friend called me doll, the tall man looked so protective. I thought he was going to flip the table over. We shared some steamy eye contact… I think. It’s not like I’ve ever done that before, but it felt significant and hot. It burned. It still burns, and it’s been at least five minutes.

Despite the exhaustion and knowing I should be trying to find forty grand- or fleeing the city to find Dad-I have to get back out there. I’ll still need a job if Mom and I somehow get through this.

When I see another man at the table, I approach, reminding myself to stay calm. Each step I take closer to the table sends more and more warm tingles thrumming through my body. The silver-haired man looks up. His dark eyes fixate on me again. It’s difficult to tell if he’s angry or… something else. The third man turns. When he spots me, his eyes snap open widely. Then he smirks.

I stare at him. I wonder, am I being paranoid? Those eyes. Those green eyes. They look so similar to the ones that stared from the balaclava last night. But that would be way too cruel, the universe throwing us together so soon. Or maybe it’s not a coincidence? Perhaps he came here because he knows I work here and wants to intimidate me.

“Scarlet,” the man says as I get closer.

I’m wearing a name badge, so this doesn’t mean anything except that he can read-big whoop.

“What a lovely name,” he goes on.

The silver-haired man flinches. I wonder why. I wonder if he cares, but he’s so much older. He’s handsome. He’s hot. His suit probably costs more than our apartment.

“Th-thank you,” I say, trying to lock last night away, the argument, the threats. “Are you ready to order?”

“We’ve been ready for a while now,” the green-eyed man says, glaring at me.

“Don’t worry,” the silver-haired man says, his voice deep and reassuring. It’s a voice I can imagine whispering me awake on a lazy Sunday morning, his warm body pressed against mine, song notes of lust and love, and… Jeez, I need to quit this. It must be the lack of sleep. I’m reading way too much into this. “My friend doesn’t mean to be so rude. He’s forgotten his manners.”

The man waves a hand. “Bring us some whiskey and some steaks.”

“Any particular brand of whiskey? And how would you like your steaks cooked?”

“Do we need to fill out a questionnaire, Scarlet?” the man says, then laughs like nothing funnier has ever been said.

“Medium-rare,” the silver-haired man-my man-says.

The other two give me their preferences, and then I walk across the restaurant, wanting so badly to look over my shoulder to see if he’s

watching me. I’ve never wondered or cared if boys are looking at me before. Is that the difference? This isn’t a boy. He’s a man, but I think it’s more than that. It’s like something in him is singing to something inside me.

After giving the order to the kitchen, my colleague pulls me aside. Terri is a tall woman with a shaved head and freckles scattered across her cheeks. “Do you know who you just served?” she asks.

“No, should I?”

“The bigger one, the older one, that’s Elio Marino. The other one is his brother, Luca. You’ve heard of the Marinos, right?”

I shake my head. “Should I have?”

“The Marino Crime Family? You’ve really never heard of them?” “They’re a crime family? What, like the mafia?”

“Not like the mafia,” she says. “They are the mafia. I thought I should give you a heads-up, just in case of… Well, I’m not sure what. Just be aware, okay?”

Elio Marino… I repeat his name in my mind, and then cogs start turning in my thoughts. Maybe I imagined the protective tone in his voice and the steamy, kind way he was looking at me, but it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?

Before returning to the restaurant, I quickly scribble a note on the order pad. A vicious voice whispers that this is a mistake, just as misguided as Dad’s get-rich-quick schemes. However, my world is one of complete chaos right now. Maybe, just maybe, this can bring some order. What’s the worst that can happen? It’s better than doing nothing and feeling helpless.

With the note tucked in my pants pocket, I get ready. When my chance comes, I’ll have to seize it.