Reign of Pride

by A. G. Kirkham

  “You’ve thought of everything, dolce.” He inspects the safe. “Let’s have that breakfast you made. It looks amazing.”

  We fall into a natural chatter about the day we both have planned. I tell him that I am spending the day here at home.

  “Olivia may be dropping by for a visit this afternoon. I may call Grazia and see if she is free to join us.”

  Nero is quick to let me know that can’t happen. “Grazia and my mother are visiting the widows of the men murdered in the warehouse. It’s a part of our traditions to reach out and let them know that they are always part of our family.”

  “Should I ask if I should join them?” Wanting Nero to know that I am willing to do my part as well.

  “No, Felicia, there will be plenty of that in our future. For now, let my mother deal with the day,” he said as he tasted a mouthful of his breakfast. “This is very good, baby.”

  I smile because I wanted him to enjoy his room, his breakfast, but, most of all, his time with me. We finish our food chatting about our day and plans for our evening when his phone goes off.

  “Yes,” he responds, then pauses before he continues. “Right. I’m on my way over to discuss the details,” he confirms with the caller then ends the call. “Duty calls,” Nero says as he stands, taking me by the hand and tugging me to my feet. “I need to have Livio and Dario come to the house. Time to get dressed.”

  I have never done this before, but I want to so badly, so I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down and kiss him. I’d planned to just do a quick peck, but Nero takes over, molding my body to his in a mind-blowing internal explosion of the senses. When he pulls back, I am still a little unsteady as he waits for me to regain control, holding my hips.

  “You have the most amazing mouth, dolce. Tonight, I’ll teach you to please me with it in a different way.” He tips his head down to kiss me solidly on the mouth. “Now, go before the men arrive and see you as they never should or I’ll have to kill them, you know.” He taps my behind playfully. I giggle up the steps to get ready for the day.

  I whip my head around. “Happy first week anniversary, honey. Thank you making it easy for me to be with you and growing along side of you.” I bolt up the stairs not waiting for a response.

  Chapter Fifteen

  No One Loses Fingers Tonight

  Nero

  * * *

  “We know this ass wants to bring down Mario.” I slam my fist on my father’s desk. Normally, I wouldn’t be so bold, but Father is as angry as I am over this threat to our security. And it’s better to pound his desk than punch a hole in the wall.

  “I’m listening. Why do you think this, Nero?” Father taps the five-hundred-dollar gold pen that’d been gifted to him on his birthday by a local politician.

  “It started on the day of our engagement when they’d gone after Felicia. If they’d succeeded, Mario and his family would be grieving, forcing him to either step up or step down. After they’d failed, they’d let time go by before hitting his warehouses. They are targeting his men—the inner sanctum men, those that have been with him the longest.”

  “Don Moretti, Nero… I have never done anything to deserve this. I treat my men with respect. I bring in new business and make sure you are both aware everything that goes on in my area. I solve the problems you’ve asked me to see to. I generate more revenue than any of the other underbosses. I choose my men carefully. I take the ones given to me and train them to be the best soldiers I can.” His face grimaces in frustration.

  “Wait. What men were given to you? From whom?” I ask. We do not make changes in moving our men. No one moves from underboss to underboss without first going through my father or me.”

  “Sergio, Flavio, and Carlo are the newest to join. They have been with me just over a month. Amate approached me along with your letter and let me know that you wanted me to add them to the crew,” Mario replies.

  My father has a temper, one that should be avoided at all cost, but with the way his knuckles turn white as he fists his hands are a clear indication that we are about to witness its full force

  He slams a fist onto the desk.

  “Why did you not approach me on this, Mario?” he grits through his teeth. He is seething, a ticking bomb just waiting to explode.

  “Don Moretti, when a man who is your brother-in-law says that he was told to have me train men, with a note with your signature, one I might add that I have seen many times in your notations to me, I do as I am told. I wanted to clear it with you, and do a quick check, but Amate said that you had enough to deal with and I would be insulting both you and him to insist.” Mario looks confused and he too realizing that he has been duped.

  “Get those men to the Stable. We can’t alert them. I will have my men track them down and get them there,” I say. I need to control the room, as it is clear that both my father and Mario are too angry. They have been thwarted and are instilling a great deal of effort to retain their composure. “Mario, focus.” I snap my fingers. “Where are these men now?”

  “Sergio and Carlo are at the docks today. Flavio has the day off. I assume he would be home,” he says. Then sits himself down, a hand runs over his face. “I am an idiot, not worthy of being your underboss. I almost got my daughter killed.”

  My father walks to sit next to him. “Your mistake was massive, Mario. Something I cannot ignore. I am Capo. We have lost men; their families are mourning. This is only what we know. Our Famiglia does not treat one another this way. You made a mistake and only one, in the time that you have been with me. There are many things that I need to consider before I decide the consequences to your actions, however let me be clear that from this moment on you will check with me for every movement until we can rebuild La Famiglia. You are allowed one mistake. This is it. Don’t disappoint me again.” This authoritative tone is aggressive yet menacing cold.

  It’s clear that Mario was misled by Amate and believed he had more power in the family based on his relationship to my father. Which leads me to question what my uncle has to do with this entire situation. I wait for Mario to leave before broaching the topic.

  “Do you believe that Amate is truly stupid enough to betray the family?”

  “Amate is a liar. I want more proof before I bring him in. We take those three and find the truth of the current situation. I want to know his complete involvement or if he is just an idiot. Then, family or not, if he is at the root of it all, he dies.” Marco Moretti has spoken.

  “I will wait for news that the men have been gathered at home. The Stables aren’t too far from my place and I can be there in half an hour.” I take a step toward the door.

  “How is married life treating you, Nero? I hear that Felicia furnished your study, so you have a place in your own home to work. Grazia was very happy to be part of it. It seems that your wife is doing her best to make a home for you.” My father is as subtle as a lead pipe slammed in my face.

  “Yes, she is doing very well, despite her youth,” I refuse to indulge in my personal life with Felicia and keep my words short and sweet.

  “My son, it has not gone unnoticed that you enjoy the company of your wife. As you should; she is a reward for the life we live out there,”—he points toward the window—“in the mix of blood and work. At this point, I’m the only one who’s noticed your attention to your wife so far, but if I were you, I’d be more circumspect, so you don’t put a target on her back. We don’t want anyone using her against you.”

  “I was unaware this was the impression. I will heed your warning.” My father is correct. They will use Felicia to get to me if they can. There has already been an attempt on her life. The idea of losing Felicia makes me sick to my stomach. The thought of someone else getting close enough to take her makes a shudder run through my body. I can’t bare to think of what I will do if that happens.

  “Feel what you feel. It is right and pure but do it in your home. In public, we respect our wives, but we do not dote on them—for their safet
y as well as ours.” My father rarely speaks of his relationship with my mother, so his next words are a surprise. “This is how I behave with your mother. She knows what I feel for her, but it is not for others to know.” With that last comment, he waves his hand toward the door. “Go enjoy your den.”

  The drive home is an opportunity to catch up with my own crew of men. Father has been giving me more and more responsibilities over the years. Thus far, no interruptions have occurred with my flow of product shipments. My warehouses are intact, and my men have made sure that we have a fluid flow of our products. Our legitimate businesses are thriving in their own right. Our new import business of olive oils and specialty cheeses direct from Italy are being sold through the country with our home base here in the city. Our family business, the vineyard that has been in our family for generations, is also doing well and growing fine grapes, creating a full-bodied wine, once again being sold throughout. Maintaining the relationships with our suppliers has improved over the years. Unfortunately, this has instigated retributions from the Russians lately. Still, we are thriving.

  I relive the morning discussion with Mario, recalling him saying the last three men he named are the latest changes. I decide to call Mario from the car on a hunch, “What other men did you train that came from Amate in the last six months, Mario?” I inquire.

  “Sal Calggia but was moved back to Amate when these three came to me. The other two are dead. They died three months ago while inspecting cargo at the docks,” Mario recalls.

  “Was Sal at the docks that day?” I have a horrible gut feeling.

  “Yes. He went to get paperwork from the dock supervisor and came back to the blood bath. That’s what he told me when I interrogated him,” he replies.

  “This conversation never happened. I will inform my father now. He will call you to confirm our next steps,” I inform him. My next call is to my father and I suggest we track Sal and get him to the Stables as well. Father agrees and puts the wheels in motion. Sal is in his late thirties, never been married and is a frequent visitor to our whorehouses. I’ve always avoided working alongside him because I don’t like the way he does business. He is selfish and cruel and thinks too much of himself; the kind to force women to pay for their men’s crimes. He would sell them as whores until they could afford to pay or kill them outright in front of their men. I always found more creative and less complicated methods to increasing our finances.

  I plan to take advantage of the few hours I have before assembling with the crew. I think about my father’s words. He knows I’d wanted to marry Felicia the moment I’d carried her out that day. I was the one who suggested her heroic behavior be rewarded with a proper match. I’d also suggested that saving my sister showed Felicia’s dedication to our family which I’d said was something I’d wanted in a wife. Father had known exactly what I was doing. He’d told me to cut the crap but had then agreed to my request to have Felicia as my bride. And now, my feelings for her are deeper than I’d ever imagined I’d be capable of feeling for a woman. What had started out as fascination for her bravery and beauty has evolved each day. I find her tenacity to challenge me refreshing—as long as it stays in our home. She is elegant and graceful in the presence of others, and she is a sexy vixen in the bedroom. Felicia is what I’d wanted, and she has become what I need.

  “I have to go, Mom. I think Nero came home and I want to spend time with him. We’ll have dinner soon. Love you,” I hear Felicia say as I saunter into the kitchen.

  She jumps in front of the counter, whipping her hand behind her back. She is adorable with flour on her jeans and in her hair.

  “You’re home early,” she comments on the obvious as I am standing five feet away from her. She pulls a lock of hair behind her ear. “Can you go for a walk and come back in twenty minutes?” she asks, shrugging.

  “I don’t think so. Want to tell me what you are hiding behind you?” I lean against the doorframe.

  “It’s a surprise. I thought I had a little more time to get cleaned up and we would have it after dinner,” Felicia says shyly.

  “I won’t be home for dinner tonight. I have business with my father to attend to. But I can go to my office and get some work done. Why don’t you bring me my surprise and some coffee in an hour? This will give me some time to get some work out of the way,” I suggest.

  “That sounds good. Do you want me to bring you some lunch? Have you eaten?” she says sweetly. Only my mother has ever asked about my health and well-being. All the other women I have dated or fucked only cared about what I can do for them.

  “A sandwich would be good.” I smile.

  “I’ll make it now, then go get cleaned up. I bought some fresh ciabatta rolls and fresh prosciutto and cheese. I’ll bring it right in,” she says excitedly. “Now, you should go get some work done.” Felicia is trying to shoo me out of her kitchen to keep her little secret. It’s adorable, so I give in and head to my office.

  A short time later, my panino arrives. Felicia kisses me on the cheek and tells me she’ll be back soon. I am grateful for a few final minutes to get an update from Dario. They have corralled two of the four they are looking for and we have set the time to meet. I ask Livio to ensure that I have clean clothes ready. If this gets bloody, I don’t want to come home to Felicia that way.

  A tiny knock raps on my door. “Come in, Felicia,” I tell her.

  She pops her head in the doorway.

  “How did you know it was me and not Dario or Livio? Is now a good time?” she asks.

  “First, if it were anyone else, they would knock louder than a butterfly and, yes, now is a very good time.” I invite her in by extending my hand to her.

  She opens the door, bringing in a tray with dessert plates and coffee for the two of us. Then she rushes back out, returning with a white-frosted cake. Her smile beams from across the room, and she has a bounce to her.

  “This was our first week together and I wanted to make it special. I was going to make dinner for you tonight but since you have work to tend to, that will have to wait for another night,” she tells me, “but this will have to do.”

  “It looks great, dolce mio. What kind is it?” I move around the desk to join her on the sofa.

  “I called your mom and she said your favorite was white chocolate raspberry. She told me where I could buy it, but I wanted to make it for you. I looked the recipe up online and had the guys take me to the grocery store. I’m not sure what it tastes like, but I did my best.” She looks at her cake critically.

  “Cut me a slice. I bet it tastes as good as it looks.”

  “Well, it isn’t ‘bakery pretty’, but I’m going to keep practicing until I get it right.” She cuts a piece and slides it onto a plate. Once her slice is in hand, she takes a forkful and lifts it to her mouth, stopping at her lips to ask, “Aren’t you taking a bite?” before placing it in her mouth.

  I take a bite, shocked at the delicious burst of flavour. To be honest, I’d expected it to be edible, but this is really good. I dig in for another bite.

  “You like it.” She beams that radiant grin at me. “I’m glad. I’d hoped you would”

  I set my plate aside, taking hers as well. Then I frame her face with my hands. “Thank you, baby. No one has ever taken the time to make me a cake. It’s delicious and I love the thought you put into this.” I take her mouth softly, licking her lips, tasting the beauty of her mouth along with the raspberry and chocolate. Her arms wind around my neck as she melts into me, letting me plunder her mouth until we are both breathless.

  “Nero, I want to give you something else, but I’m not sure how to do it.” She hides her face in my neck.

  “What don’t you know?” I wonder.

  “You know that thing you do with your tongue to me, um… down… there.” She bites her lower lip shyly.

  My cock is already engorged but is now threatening to burst out of my pants. “You want to learn to suck my cock?” I ask with hope rising in my chest.

  �
��I want to try, but you will have to teach me,” she whispers.

  “You don’t have to.” I’m trying to be calm, but I’m silently pleading that she wants to continue.

  “I know.”

  I push back the coffee table, tossing the throws onto the floor behind me.

  Felicia lowers herself on her knees before me.

  Bending, I brush my lips over hers softly, then unbuckle my belt and unzip my pants. “Take out my cock,” I say hoarsely.

  Her fingers tremble as she does so gently.

  “You can grip me harder.” I close my hand over hers and show her how I like to be stroked. I follow her movements until she is more brazen. “Take the tip in your mouth and lick it all around.”

  She follows my tutoring, making me hiss with need. “That’s right, dolce, now suck it gently.”

  Her eyes peer into mine and I have to touch her. I caress her cheek. “That’s right, baby, just like that.” It takes great control on my part not to delve deeper into her mouth. I want her to enjoy this experience with me. “Can you take me deeper?” I ask.

  I moan as she bobs her head, taking me further in her mouth. She is by far the most inexperienced woman who has ever sucked me off, but her desire to please me is intoxicating and those eyes penetrating my soul have me ready to spurt into her mouth. Those soft lips are sinful, her scent intoxicating. With each passing moment I find it harder and harder to resist coming in her mouth. I feel like a schoolboy ready to explode, out of control. I give her warning, “Felicia, I’m going to come.” My voice is raw and I hear the roughness in my tone.

  She doesn’t stop. She is killing me softly with that tongue swirling round my cock. I tug on her hair to warn her again.

  Felicia pulls back but continues to stroke my cock with her hand.

  I pull her up to me as I am about to come, burying my head in her throat and roar my release into her hands. Fuck me. This woman is perfect for me. Beautiful, brave, sexy. My woman.