Dancing with the Mob: A Dark Mafia Romance Two-Book Collection

by Suzanne Hart

  “I’m Natalia Bernardi,” I heard her say in a loud, clear voice.

  I didn’t move or say anything, a part of my heart went into overdrive, and my stomach had a bell jar of butterflies emptied into it by the devil himself.

  “I’m Natalia Bernardi!” she said, louder as I heard her getting up off the lounge.

  I turned to look at her, breaking my own promise to myself that I wouldn’t, that I couldn’t. She was more beautiful than ever. Naked in the soft light she trembled slightly even still. Now the heat of passion was gone, there was the chill of our nakedness. Who we really were before God and each other.

  “Aren’t you going to say something?” she asked.

  A puzzled look had shrouded her tempered features, but I only noticed why myself, as I heard myself burst out laughing after grinning like an idiot as she’d told me a second time. Once I started, I couldn’t stop, and so I howled with laughter at the prospect.

  I just stole a container load of coke and guns from my own family, then sold some too, and fucked the daughter of Carlo Bernardi. And technically, it was a school night!

  It was too unreal to be true, yet it was happening. I’d never felt so alive, or so dangerously happy in my whole life. I never even knew I could feel like that.

  Natalia looked at me like I had gone mad, but I felt she was of the same mind I was. I wasn’t afraid, not of her, anyway. What terrified me was the new problem of feeling something for someone, actual emotions. That would be a challenge.

  We stood facing each other, for how long --I don’t know. She was naked and I was recovering from a laughing fit, both of us doing some very rapid mental, emotional arithmetic; figuring out if we could or should even attempt to handle the situation as it was.

  I was good with my math. It worked for me, although it would take some getting used to. Natalia, on the other hand, looked as though she’d ended up with a negative fraction as a result of her own thinking. Her face had soured, and she scrambled to find something to cover herself, disappearing into another part of the penthouse, pressing the sides of her temples with her index fingers. After a second, I heard the running of water and a door closing.

  I found and finished my drink, then picking up hers; I added a dash of white powder from the baggie which had fallen from my pant pocket. I knew instantly that Natalia didn’t feel the same, how could she? That would be too perfect. Opposites attract and all that, right?

  It was alright, I reasoned to myself. What was I thinking anyway? A one-off roll in the hay with a rival family’s daughter? That was forgivable, considering I didn’t even know who she was until she’d told me. Hell, I didn’t even know the Bernardi’s had a daughter.

  Plus, I had enough problems of my own, like how I was going to get rid of a shipping container of cocaine I’d just permanently borrowed from my own family? What was I going to do now? Sell it to the Bernardi’s? No. It was a very strange fucking night and I had to let it go for what it was.

  But, that feeling. I’ve never felt like that over anyone. Is it? No! I won’t even let myself say the word.

  I felt very not-so-funny anymore, like there was nothing to laugh about. I felt like I was made of thin brown paper and had just been torn in two, having had both sides of the story written on it read back to me. I was in deep shit either way, and who was I kidding?

  Time to put the old Mikey suit back on. I had to be home and ready for work in three hours anyway. I didn’t have the time, even if I wanted to, to hang around and play Mr. and Mrs. Leone-Bernardi all fucking night long.

  I downed the remaining drink in one and finished dressing. I heard the shower running from what I assumed was a bathroom of one of the vast bedrooms. The place took up nearly a whole floor and it was enormous. Thumbing through some papers on the kitchen bench, the cold realization of what I’d done dawned on me. She was a Bernardi alright, this place was all hers. I only hoped, prayed, that the CCTV hadn’t been repaired yet, and according to the job sheet I was looking at, it was due to be done that weekend.

  I felt a cold sweat break out over me, something that affected my breathing. I tried to open the balcony door, but it wouldn’t open. I had to get out. I tried to calm myself, pacing the length of the kitchen, then back into the lounge area. Nope. I was losing it. Gotta go. Hands shaking, I poured and downed another tall puddle of scotch, almost retching it straight back up, but holding it in. Learning again how to hold everything in, pushing it down as far as it would go.

  That’s it, Mikey. Push it all down and lock the box. Wouldn’t want to feel anything like that again, would we? Be just like everything else you loved --dead, or flying so high above you that you… Shut up! Shut up!

  When my own voice in my head turned into my father’s, I knew I was losing it. I debated whether or not to even leave the coke on the table.

  She has paid for it, so why not?

  My hands, my old Mikey hands wanted to reach out, to take back what I told myself was mine. Hearing the water stop, I snatched up the bundle of notes, peeling off a handful of hundreds to stuff into my pocket and then bagging the rest.

  I think I might have heard Natalia call my name as I closed the door behind me, but she didn’t come out. I was almost running to the open elevator anyway, praying she wouldn’t. The ride down was quick, too quick compared to the ride up. And why was the elevator door open?

  Weird.

  BING!

  Stepping out into the vast expanse of foyer, I caught a glimpse of myself in the huge, tinted, mirror-lined walls. Even with the soft light, the flattering glow of the dark marble and gleaming gold highlights, I looked like shit. I felt it too.

  I straightened my shirt, my hair too. And after managing something near-normal looking, I made my way across to the main doorway, passing the security desk. The door to one side was open, and I noticed a telephone handset was off its receiver. Frowning a raised set of brows, I reasoned it was odd, but nothing compared to what I had to deal with.

  Maybe the guy had to go shit. In a hurry.

  The front doors were both open as well. This was getting weird, but my sense of urgency to leave was greater than a building foyer at three am.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when I felt the seemingly icy spray of the early morning breeze on my cheek and the plastic edge of the valet ticket in my hand.

  Hearing the car squeal ‘round the corner from the underground car lot, I felt myself breathe. It was alright, I’d be home soon.

  My car pulled up, but no valet. Three burly men with submachine guns and sunglasses, gesturing to the empty seat for me in back.

  “Mr. Leone. Please, take a seat. You don’t want to keep Mr. Bernardi waiting now, will you?”

  Well, that escalated quickly.

  Nine

  Natalia

  Just like at the club, I’d wanted to run. To go home. Trouble is I was home, my home for now, anyway. I used to delight in using a man for whatever I wanted, get my kicks and then sayonara baby. It sounded crazy, but with Mikey I felt like running because I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with him forever. I wanted him to feel the same way, hell, I thought he did feel the same way, and I felt it.

  I’d never felt like that from touching any thing, let alone anybody. And his body, oh my god, I got goose pimples just thinking about him. His hair, those eyes. His figure was something you’d see in a magazine. He didn’t go to the gym; at least I don’t think he did. He was just right. All the right shapes in all the right places. And that one shape in particular, wow! I just couldn’t believe how good he felt, how good he was. Just his… His, everything!

  At the time though, I had retreated to one of the bathrooms because I’d had to. It had hit me harder than a slug from a Bernardi assassin, should it be known what I had just done. What had I just done? Apart from the most incredible series of explosive orgasms and possibly correcting an old rotator cuff injury in the process, I felt like I’d found the man of my dreams. He existed, he was on this earth. His name was Mikey Le
one.

  Fuck!

  I kept out of family business, and all the Bernardi women did. But, it was common knowledge, good sense not to fraternize with rival families or their employees, places of business, etc. That was just common sense. Fire is hot, fries are fattening… and the Leone’s are scum of the earth. We just knew that.

  Maybe they knew? Maybe they knew Mikey was actually an angel come down from heaven and were trying to keep the rest of the family or the world from finding out. Either way, I had done it now and, apart from having to deal with my own turbulent emotions, I wanted to do it again. And again, and again after that. Until I changed the way I walked, it didn’t matter. I was categorically, absolutely, undeniably obsessed and head over heels for Mikey Leone.

  Nothing wrong with that, as long as neither Mikey Leone or my family find out! Especially my father!

  I hid in the silver rain of the marble shower recess. One of those huge, rainmaker showerheads I’d seen advertised somewhere, not even realizing I had one, or how good they actually were until I let it envelop me, massaging the thoughts from my mind, emptying my head of everything. I could have stayed there for hours. Unfortunately for me, I knew I had to come back to earth at some point. I had to set things straight with Mikey.

  I knew it wasn’t in my imagination. I’d been with and screwed over enough guys to know when the feelings were real and when you were just going through the motions. I had found love once; at least I thought I had. That was a long time ago and it had been part imagination, part of me wanting a man to have had those real feelings for me when he obviously didn’t.

  With Mikey it was different. There was an urgency in both our eyes, something that went beyond the physical. Not that there was anything wrong with the physical side of things! I could have stayed with our bodies locked together forever. It was like meeting someone who was already a part of you. Someone who knew what you wanted to hear, feel and sense, even before you’d even thought of it yourself.

  I finished a long shower by washing my hair, noticing how unsteady on my feet I still was, giddy and a bit sore from the spectacular lovemaking I’d been treated too. I made some loose plans in my mind, maybe about the best way we could meet, still see each other and have a repeat episode, without either family ever finding out.

  I led a fairly monastic lifestyle anyway. I was always taking off for a day here and there, a week every month or two. It would be the perfect plan and I had no doubt that Mikey would go along with it. I imagined he was even having the same thoughts right now. I’d been a bit rude by rushing off into the bathroom like that, but girls will be girls. I was sure he’d found his way around the place, there was no want for anything there.

  I toweled my hair and, after putting on a fresh robe, went out to share my newly-realized excitement with Mikey.

  He was gone.

  Motherfucker.

  I heard the latch of the front door close as I called his name. I wanted to get mad, to chase him even. I could easily have run after him, begging him not to go. To stay. Just like the thousands of other women who had probably had the same treatment.

  I felt a lump in my throat. I wanted to cry, maybe throw something stupidly expensive, watching it shatter into a million pieces. Like my heart. But no. I just shrugged, biting down on the sting I felt and deciding it probably was for the best. I mean, really, seriously. Who was I kidding? It would never have worked anyway. Besides, I think my downstairs garage could do with a rest after all that reversing and parking.

  If I’d known he was gonna bail, I would’ve run a bath.

  I was Natalia Bernardi, and I could have anything or any man I wanted. I told myself I didn’t need a Mikey Leone in my life, no thank you. I half-filled one of the giant tumblers with scotch, put on some slow music and cried. I cried through another full glass until I was empty again, then I must have fallen asleep.

  I slept it off, late into the next day. My life was a permanent holiday by anyone else’s standards. I had nowhere to be and no one to answer to, not really. Except my father. I always had to answer to him.

  I groaned aloud before I even opened my eyes. The half-dream memory of the night before was overtaken by nausea from alcohol first, and then the stab of emotional memory which happened second. I turned to face the vast empty space of the rest of the bed I occupied.

  It was easy to imagine Mikey there, smiling his amazing smile, with those eyes greeting me first thing. In my mind, my breath was perfect, so I could kiss him with the same passion I had the night before. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to indulge in the memory of his shape, the hardness and length of him in my hands. I willed him to take me again, to hold my face and…

  It was useless. Morning-after-scotch breath and the urge to puke burst my fantasy. The fragments waving ha ha to the shards of my broken heart on the way down. I rolled onto my back, fighting the urge to throw up and sighed aloud.

  I already told you, you don’t need a Mikey doll. Get something else. Have Daddy sign off on a new house, a boat or something. Buy a Ferrari and hire a fucking stud for the week, driving across Europe as he finger-fucks you for a few hundred Euros a day…

  My usual sage advice wasn’t working this time. Any other time I’d felt anything remotely for any guy, I’d ended it, or set things up to prove to myself what an asshole they really were. Mikey was different though, I just knew it.

  Damn you, Mikey Leone, damn you and your perfect everything!

  The penthouse, like any good five-star establishment, had its own kitchens. A few wobbly stabs at the touch screen on the nightstand saw a sumptuous brunch delivered within minutes. I ordered it to be left by the door, I was in no mood to see anyone whose name didn’t start with M and end in Y that morning. Even though I could have killed him even if I had seen him. Or would I have kissed him? Ah! It was all too much. I resolved to demolish a lobster tail or three and then I would decide what to do. Food was always a good comforter. Five star food made you forget most things, for a little while anyway.

  After filling a hangover-sized hole with overpriced, yet delicious five star food, I resigned myself to going back to the house. The family house. I would have a trip away again at the end of the month, so going home made sense. I wouldn’t say a word to anyone that anything out of the ordinary had happened. I left a phone message for the CCTV guy, and he called back straight away. I let him know the place would be empty after an hour or so, and it was.

  Going back home, approaching the old but majestic, sweeping gates, I was struck by the hole that had been punched in my life. In my self. I knew I was Natalia, coming home, and that everything was fine, but something was horribly wrong. I wasn’t the same person at all. The staff didn’t seem to notice anything, I even checked myself in the mirror, poking out my tongue and taking my temperature, even trying to convince myself I was coming down with something.

  Or someone.

  Stop it! It’s not that. I finished it. No Mikey doll. It’s over!

  I asked one of Papa’s right-hand men where he was and the look I got back was enough to punch a second hole in my reality. A sudden ripple of fear shot over my whole body. My eyes must have told everything, because Franco’s eyes narrowed. He seemed satisfied that his deepest suspicions, whatever they were, had been realized.

  I caught myself changing my whole demeanor, but it was too late. Whatever was going on, it had something to do with me, and I’d just admitted, to Franco anyway, my undeniable guilt.

  “Your father, he’s ah… busy. A meeting. An important meeting. I don’t know when he’ll be back,” Franco said calmly, smiling politely. A little too politely, I thought. Was I just being paranoid?

  “Will you be going out again today, Ms. Bernardi?” Franco asked sincerely, but one of his eyes was pure accusation, I even detected his nostrils flaring. Sniffing me almost.

  I knew very well to play it safe. If I was imagining it, fine. If I wasn’t, then I had to think fast and act super naturally, although, supernatural would have been be
tter for me, if I could have managed that.

  I pouted and nodded a little, shrugging it off as naturally as I could, but keeping eye contact. “Ah, okay then. I’ll catch him later. If you see him before me, could you let him know I’m home?” I said cheerfully.

  “Oh, yes! I will be sure to tell him the moment I see him, Ms. Bernardi.” The snake lowered his rattle, but he didn’t take his eyes off me. I could feel their sting as I walked down the large cobblestoned pathway between the main buildings.

  I wasn’t sure if coming home was smart or extra dumb. I knew firsthand how my father had dismissed the idea of having a wife once it interfered with his business plans. I gulped at the possible realization that I was, probably no different. I just hadn’t had cause in my life until then to even consider I too could be expendable.

  Mama was alive and well, but her life was the epitome of some sort of a luxurious hell. I would have to wait and see if my imagination was playing tricks, or if I’d just lined my own cell with Mikey-shaped bars.

  Ten

  Mikey

  If nothing else, if the news of my diddling the Bernardi daughter reached my father, well, it was worth it. The ultimate fuck you. There were certain, okay; there were lots of unspoken but strict rules when it came to the family. Screwing members of a rival family? Ummm, hulllooo? You may as well just open your own throat.

  The three guys in the car must’ve thought I’d lost my mind. I wasn’t showing any sign at all of being worried, no concern at being kidnapped at gunpoint in my own car. If anything, it was the perfect excuse for not showing up to work later that morning. Win-win.

  They’d frisked me roughly in the back seat for weapons, weapons I wasn’t carrying. The one popper I had was in the duffle bag, which the fattest of the three had scrunched under his huge arm, like a very-dead set of bagpipes. All bag and no pipes.