by LK Shaw
“Do you remember what happened the last time you had too much to drink?” Jacob asks.
“Um.” I squint hard trying to recall. “I know I had a killer headache.”
“What else?” His voice drops.
Ohhh. It finally clicks inside my wine-addled brain. “I asked you to give me an orgasm,” I stage whisper back at him, finding myself a tad more sober than I had been a few minutes ago.
“I think demanded was more like it.”
“Well, you had been awfully stingy with them to date,” I point out.
“Something I believe I have more than made up for since then.”
“Perhaps,” I concede.
“I’m in the mood to give my wife several more. However, in order for that to happen, I need her to be sober. Here. With me.”
I rise up. “If Giovanni and I leave in the next five minutes, I’m sure that by the time we arrive home, I’ll be stone cold sober and in a highly amenable mood to receive those multiple orgasms,” I reply huskily.
“I’ll be waiting.” The call ends.
With giddy anticipation, I rush back out to the living room where Francesca sits. “That was Jacob. He’s home and checking on me. I’ll assume that means Pierce is on his way back here.”
She shakes her head. “It’s doubtful. Whenever he and Jacob have syndicate business this late, he usually goes to his mistress’ house. I won’t see him until tomorrow sometime. I’m sure your husband is anxious to have you home, though.”
I file away that tidbit about Pierce.
“Yes, he asked if I’d be coming soon.” I try not to laugh at my unintended pun.
“You should probably get going, then. I don’t want him to worry. Thank you so much for coming over. I had a lot of fun. We definitely need to do this again.” She rises from her seat and pulls me in for a hug.
“I agree.”
Giovanni straightens and strides toward us. Francesca starts to step back, but holds her ground. Her eyes flick to him and then quickly away. He moves past us, but doesn’t glance in her direction. Hurt flashes across her face. She and I say our goodbyes.
It’s a quiet ride back to the townhouse. Too quiet.
“Francesca is nice,” I say casually.
Gio grunts noncommittally.
“I see the looks you two give each other.”
“Leave it, Brenna,” he grumbles.
I leave it. Temporarily. We finally pull to a stop in front of our building. He moves to get out.
“I can see myself the rest of the way, Gio.” My bodyguard is taking his job seriously. “I doubt anything is going to happen between here and my front door.”
He turns at the waist and glares into the backseat. “You and I both know Mr. Ricci would kill me if I didn’t make sure you made it safely inside your home.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. He’d hardly kill you.”
The look he sends my way says I don’t know my husband well enough. I heave out a sigh of defeat. He exits the vehicle and then opens the door for me.
“Then I guess we talk about Francesca while we walk.”
He groans. “There isn’t anything to talk about.”
He is in complete denial. I don’t know what’s going on between the two of them, but it’s definitely something. We step into the elevator.
“Do you like her?” I ask.
“It doesn’t matter if I like her or not,” he says dejected.
“Why not?”
“There are a lot of reasons.” He holds up a hand. “Before you ask, and at the risk of being fired or murdered by your husband, I’m telling you now, they’re none of your business.”
I wince. Giovanni is right. “I apologize. Your reasons are your own.”
“Thank you,” he says.
The elevator dings. I fish my keys out of my purse while we walk to the door. Before we reach it, Jacob opens it wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. Arousal flares and all thoughts of anything but orgasms drift away.
I wave over my shoulder as my husband drags me into the townhouse. “Goodnight, Gio.”
The door slams before he can reply.
Chapter 25
Jacob
* * *
Brenna and I spent the day making love, breaking occasionally to eat and talk.
I told her about my mother and how she’d always said that I could do anything I wanted with my life. It didn’t have to just be about the family—the syndicate. I think she feared my father, and she never spoke of a different life for me in his presence. Only when it was just the two of us. I confessed that briefly I’d thought about taking Ellie and leaving Brooklyn, and the organization, behind.
“Do you have to go?” Brenna asks.
I finish buttoning my suit jacket and tug my shirtsleeves down before I turn to her. The temptation would have been too great, otherwise. She’s sitting up in bed, hair falling long and messy around her shoulders. The sheet is tucked under her arms. My wife has the look of someone who’s been thoroughly fucked. Especially with the kiss-ripened lips pouting at me.
With only a few steps, I move across the room to stand over her. I fist her hair and crash my mouth against hers, spearing my tongue between her lips, ravishing her. Brenna duels with me, giving as much as taking. Her small fingers clutch my forearms, and the sheet falls with her movement. I palm her naked breast, kneading the soft flesh. She moans into my mouth. The sound reminds me I have to stop.
I break our kiss and rest my forehead against hers. “Pierce and I have business to take care of, I’m afraid.”
Brenna sighs, but nods. It takes effort to tear myself away. I stare down at her. A devious grin appears on her face. “I guess while you’re out taking care of your business, I’ll stay here and take care of my own.” She leans back and cups her breasts, squeezing them before plucking at her nipples.
My fists clench at my side. This woman is a siren, luring men to their death. Before I say to hell with it, I force myself to turn away. She makes that noise that drives me wild.
“You’re a hateful, evil woman, Brenna Ricci,” I say over my shoulder.
Her laughter follows me down the stairs.
Pierce and Giovanni are waiting outside for me. It’s nearly dusk. The time has come for vengeance. I study the young man who has quietly, and slowly, been earning more responsibilities. I can picture him being promoted to captain some time in the future. If he aspires to it. Some men prefer a soldier’s role. My cousin hasn’t said what makes him trust Gio, especially with my wife’s safety, but I won’t question it unless I have to.
“Gentlemen,” I greet them before the three of us enter the town car.
Pierce reaches into the dry bar and pours himself a glass of bourbon. Unlike me, he enjoys that warm sensation the liquor gives him before a meeting with our captains. He says it helps take the razor sharp edge of his anger off. The only time he doesn’t drink is when we have guests inside our private room beneath the warehouse. Then he lets the rage take control. It’s almost as though it’s a separate entity inside him. His hatred for the Russians is nearly as great as mine.
Finally, we arrive at the body shop. Giovanni honks a single time. Within moments, we’re let inside and the door closes behind us. Only a single light is on inside, casting a pale glow around the interior. We stride through the abandoned shop floor. Pierce raps on the door barely visible against the back wall. The lock is disengaged and it opens. The three of us enter before it closes.
I glance around the room, taking count of those present. My father is absent. In his stead is Paulie, who lounges far too comfortably in the seat meant for me. He rises and circles around to stand with the rest of the captains. My father ruled from behind that desk. It is not my way. To most of these men, I still have something to prove. A seven-year absence can’t be forgotten in only a few short weeks.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” I greet them. My eyes land on a man in the back. He’d also been shot during our skirmish with the Russians th
e other night. “I’m thankful to see you’re doing well, Dino.”
He nods in appreciation.
“As you know, we captured two of our enemies during the arms deal. Pierce and I have been questioning them.” I maneuver around the men, looking each in the eye as I pass. As though I’m speaking directly to them. Just because I am the boss doesn’t mean I’m not one of them. “We were able to acquire the location of the two men responsible for Umberto Benetti’s death. After this meeting, we will raid their hiding place. We will provide the vengeance his widow, Carmella, deserves.”
“How do you know their information is correct? That it’s not a trap? You would be risking the lives of our men.”
Casually, I make my way to the front where the questions came from. Not a single flicker of emotion crosses my face. Paulie stands, unafraid and unrepentant, near my father’s desk. I close the distance between us until we are nearly toe to toe.
“Every day the Russians think they can trespass into our territory, my men’s lives are at risk. Every business deal our enemies think is their right to steal risks my men’s lives. I do not take the lives of any of my men for granted,” I grind out. “Nor do I take unnecessary risks with them. I do not gamble on my family members as though I’m playing some game.”
I turn to the syndicate’s men and scan the faces of each one. “Every decision I make is for the benefit of this organization. This family. Just like my father did, and my grandfather before him.” I slam my fist over the ink in my chest. “Like you, I took an oath—a vow—and pledged my loyalty to the syndicate.”
The respect on their faces is evident. I pivot back to Paulie. My gaze locks onto his. “I do not take that oath lightly, despite what some of you may think.”
He breaks eye contact first. The captain’s disperse one by one, until only my father’s one-time consigliere, Pierce, and I remain. I move to leave as well.
Paulie captures my arm at the door. My eyes move from where his hand rests back to his face. I say nothing.
He quickly releases his hold on me. “I’m not questioning your rule, Emilio,” he says. “I would ask your father those same questions. It’s part of my job as consigliere to make sure that every angle has been considered. Every risk assessed.”
“You seem to be forgetting one thing, Paulie. You are no longer consigliere.” I turn my back on him in dismissal and exit the room. Pierce trails only two paces behind me. Fury burns my gut. The fact that my father’s second would question my decisions in front of my men is tantamount to betrayal.
Giovanni waits by the car. Once again, we settle inside. We leave the body shop on our way to the final destination of the night before we can return home. Several vehicles fall in behind us.
The air is thick and filled with violent intensity.
“Tonight Umberto Benetti will be avenged,” I tell Pierce.
He opens a hidden compartment. Inside are guns and magazines. Both of us take what we need. I check my weapons and ammunition. My cousin does the same.
“What do you plan on doing about Paulie?” he asks.
In truth, I haven’t decided. “Let’s focus on the task ahead. I’ll think about it after.”
We arrive at our destination. Men exit their vehicles and move to flank me. I stare at the building in front of us.
“What’s next?” Giovanni asks.
“We kill everyone inside.”
Chapter 26
Brenna
* * *
I stare into the mirror. I can’t help but compare the woman looking back at me to the one from only a week ago. She’s different. Shiny auburn hair flows softly around her shoulders, the ends curling in haphazard directions. Her skin glows. Her cheeks are rosy without the need for any artificial tint. A daring plum-colored lipstick showcases her plump limps. Most importantly, there’s a sparkle of happiness in her eyes.
“You look stunning.”
I turn and lose sight of her. Instead, I drink in my handsome husband standing in the bathroom doorway. Power radiates off his charcoal-suit covered frame. It molds perfectly to his broad shoulders and muscular arms and tapers in at the waist. A razor sharp crease runs down the middle of each pant leg.
My gaze slowly travels back up, pausing at the prominent bulge between his legs that his suit jacket can’t quite hide, before continuing on its path until I reach Jacob’s eyes. They flash with heat. I close the distance between us.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I say, straightening his already straight tie as an excuse to touch him. Not that I need one. Ever since we made love, it’s like I can’t stop. I love touching him. There’s been a noticeable shift in our relationship. He’s home more often, although he and Pierce still frequently have meetings to attend, like the one we’re heading to. Thankfully, he hasn’t been shot again.
“I’m still not sure you coming along is a good idea.”
“Why not?” My lips turn down in a pout.
Jacob’s arm snags my waist and he pulls me against him. “Because I don’t want other men seeing you looking this fucking sexy.” His free hand glides up my thigh and under the hem of my daringly short dress, which rises with his movement. He palms my butt cheek, and my breath hitches at how close his fingertips are to my throbbing center. My hands go to his chest to steady myself.
His thumb skates across my skin, and I unconsciously widen my legs a fraction. Jacob’s nostrils flare as though scenting my arousal.
“Now do you understand what I’m talking about?” he growls. “Every man in there will be admiring you. Wondering what you’re wearing under this dress. Wanting to touch you.”
He punctuates this by sliding his fingers between my open legs. He slips one beneath the edge of my panties and rubs it along my slit, coating it in the wetness only he can coax from me. My eyes close on a moan, and I tilt my pelvis to give him better access.
“They’ll be picturing this pretty pussy,” he continues before dipping the tip of his finger inside me. “Wishing they could lick it. Taste it. Savor your musky flavor.”
He paints the image vividly inside my head, but the only person I want touching me—tasting me—is him.
“That will be their downfall, though.” Jacob slowly pushes the single digit all the way in before dragging it out. He slides it in again, adding a second one, before ramping up the pace.
“Please,” I beg. My fists clench his jacket as the friction of his thrusting fingers increases.
“Because if anyone dared to touch you,”—he growls into my ear as his other hand skims down the front of my panties, finding my clit and adding to my pleasure—“I’d kill him.”
Jacob bites down on the lobe. His violent threat and the sting of pain added to the pleasure knocks me off the cliff. I free fall, knowing my husband will be there to catch me. I cry out and collapse against his chest while I shudder through my release. Slowly, he removes his fingers from me. Our eyes meet and he brings the glistening wet digits to his mouth, licking my flavor from them.
“Did you mean that?” I ask on a whisper.
“Mean what?”
“That you’d kill anyone who touched me?” I should be horrified at the thought, yet I can’t find it in me.
“You are my wife. I’d burn the world to ash for you.”
The ride through Brooklyn is a quiet and comfortable one. My excitement grows the closer we get. Already my foot is tapping a beat. I imagine the line of people outside vying for a chance to get into the exclusive club. Even I, who has lived almost like a hermit, have heard of Divine. I’d had no idea that the Italian syndicate owned it though.
Before long, Gio pulls up to the club. The front is a black, textured wall with two sets of closed double doors, a suit clad man standing in front of the pair to the left. In bright, purple neon lights centered above them it spells out Divine. Sure enough, a line is formed alongside the building and down the street, caged behind a waist high metal barricade.
I tamp down my giddiness. No need to act unsophistica
ted next to my husband. I don’t want to embarrass him. This is an important meeting.
The back door opens and Jacob exits. He buttons his suit jacket and straightens his sleeves. An aura of confidence surrounds him. He extends a hand to me. I’m second guessing my decision to wear this dress since it takes some fancy maneuvering not to flash my lady bits when I swing my legs out. A matching town car pulls up behind ours, and Pierce steps out of the back seat. Jacob tucks my arm under his and we stride toward the attendant.
“Mr. Ricci. Mrs. Ricci,” he greets us with a respectful nod and opens the door. “Mr. De Luca.”
I catch a glimpse of the butt of a handgun beneath his jacket.
“Good evening, Antonio,” my husband replies.
We stride down a short hallway, Pierce and Gio following behind us. It opens to a huge room that looks much like I imagined, although far more well-lit than I expected. Jacob leads me along the perimeter of the giant dance floor that is already full of people dancing to the music being played by the DJ, whose booth is nearly hidden in the corner. We don’t stop until we reach the far back wall.
There, the four of us ascend a few steps to reach a raised platform. The wall-length dais is separated into three large sections cordoned off from each other, with their own set of steps to access them. Several tables, some already with occupants, fill each section. The perpendicular wall we passed along the way is exactly the same.
From where I stand, I can look out over the entire club. The two walls on either side of us, including the bar area, are in sight. As is the front door. It occurs to me that from our vantage point, no one would be able to sneak up on us. It makes sense that this is where Jacob would conduct his business.
“Gentlemen,” he addresses the two men already seated at the table, shaking each one’s hand as they rise in greeting. “I apologize for my tardiness. I hope one of our hostesses has been treating you well?”
From the looks of things, the alcohol is plentiful, as are the women.
