by Soraya Naomi
As the underboss, I have several Capi, so-called captains, working for me, and these Capi take care of the actual drug dealings in and around Chicago. The Capi have soldiers working for them who each report to their assigned Capo. The Capi report to the underboss. The underboss reports to the Capo crimine/boss, and both the Capo crimine/boss and the underboss keep the Consigliere/counselor/lawyer constantly informed about every business dealing.
I have more Capi working for me other than just Adriano, but as my direct back-up, he’s our most valuable Capo. Whenever I’m indisposed, Adriano is next in command; therefore, he has more authority than the other Capi.
One of the most important aspects of our Syndicate life is to uphold the façade of being a contributing member of society. None of the high-ranking men have a criminal record; once you have a criminal record, you can never be anything more than a soldier in any Syndicate. And soldiers are never seen in public with made men, which are those in the four high ranks: Capo crimine, underboss, head Capo, and Consigliere. These made men are artists, entrepreneurs, politicians, journalists, lawyers, all with clean records and no run-ins with the police or ties to any criminal activity that is documented by the government; that’s our strength.
Each Syndicate regulates the activity within its own state, but sometimes another Syndicate can have control of a tiny part in another state, as could soon be the case with Crystal Lake, where Leggia, the Capo crimine/boss of the New York Syndicate, has presently shown some interest. If we decide to sell Crystal Lake to the New York Syndicate, we’ll still own the veto rights to the Chicago territory, which means that my Capo crimine, James, can overpower anything Leggia does in Crystal Lake if it affects our business. The LA Syndicate – the third biggest Syndicate in this country – won’t interfere as long as it benefits the status quo: no one is exposed or incriminated or linked to criminal activity.
“What happened?” I ask Adriano as I cross the threshold of the coffee shop.
“Leggia wants to renegotiate territory borders. Since we’ve been discussing cutting Crystal Lake, I thought it might be wise,” he answers.
I’m considering giving up that area because we’re encountering too many problems there. “It could be a good move. Too many loose cannons are in that territory, and we’re having too much trouble running the drug routes there. I’ll speak with Consigliere Salvatore about it.” In accordance with our Syndicate rules, our counselor must be apprised of all business decisions.
“Salvatore already spoke with James and is going to contact you,” Adriano replies.
“Okay. I’m going to make Leggia wait a few days. I’ll be at Crystal Lake Tuesday. Set up the meet. I need to check to make sure we didn’t overlook anything as to why they might want the territory, although I’m pretty sure I won’t find anything newsworthy. Then we’ll hand Crystal Lake over to Leggia. I’ll be in touch later.” And I end the call.
Stepping into my black Italian car that I’ve parked a block away, I plan how far I can take this with Fallon. Only James and Adriano know about my tracking her every move. As long as I haven’t gained the information I need, I can see her without raising suspicion with James. Adriano is my Capo and my best friend, so I’m not worried about him because he’s only looking out for me. But James, my Capo crimine, I answer to.
CHAPTER 6
Fallon
I call Teagan the day after she leaves Chicago.
“Hi, babe,” she answers on the second ring and yawns loudly into the receiver.
“How was your first night?” I sit on the couch with a cup of tea in my other hand.
“Urgh, there were children screaming on the plane, so I couldn’t sleep,” she says, grunting – Teagan’s not a mommy-type. “I was freaking tired. It’s almost noon here, and I’m lying in bed, suffering from major jetlag. How is it without me?”
I snort. “The apartment is too quiet without you.”
“I am a loud woman.”
“True that,” I acknowledge her statement. “But you’ll never guess who I ran into yesterday at the coffee shop.”
“A guy?”
“Yep.”
“Luca? Right?”
“Yep.”
“Why didn’t you text me the minute you saw him? Never mind. Tell me,” she demands.
“We talked, but I wasn’t in the best mood because I was dreading going home to the condo. You have no idea how lonely it is without you.”
“Aw, babe.”
“I was reading at the coffee shop, and he took my phone and added his number. We talked, and he’s...interesting.” There’s something pulling me to him. An attraction I can’t seem to shake. An attraction I don’t want to shake. “I flirted with him.”
“You flirted?” she blurts.
“I did! And not my infamous horrible flirting.”
She chuckles. “And? Did he ask you out?”
“Uhm no.” I hesitate. “He did mention he was going to take me out on a proper date, but he didn’t specifically ask me out. He was ever the gentleman though.”
“I bet he’s jerking off to the thought of you as we speak.” She laughs loudly.
Smiling, I hold the phone away from my ear. “Shut up! Go sleep some more. I’ll talk to you later.”
“I bet you can’t get that mental image out of your head now?”
“Go back to bed, woman.” I click end before she can respond.
***
Unfortunately, Luca doesn’t call all week. And now that it’s the weekend, I yearn for carbs, so I visit the coffee shop, yet again, and slide into my regular spot. As I turn on my e-reader and glance at the door, I see Luca strolling in.
He closes the distance between us surprisingly fast. “Fallon.”
Has he suddenly become a regular here?
“Hi. You came back for the delicious muffins?” I tease.
Luca reoccupies his usual seat, squeezes my knee gently, and caresses my thigh, the heat of his hand leaving a trail of desire – until the waitress interrupts us.
He sits back in his chair without breaking eye contact with me. “Tea?”
I nod. “Earl Grey.” And I do look at the waitress who’s doing her best to capture Luca’s attention. Even with our intimate pose, she still tries to flirt with him. I watch him to see how he’ll handle this.
“Earl Grey and an espresso, please,” Luca says to her, and then his focus is instantly back on me.
“I’ve been thinking of you all week. It wasn’t easy to refrain from calling you. So, Fallon, who likes good food and books, I want to know more about you,” he states in a demanding, yet gentle, tone.
The waitress leaves, but not before sending me an indignant look, and I inwardly laugh at her.
“I’m actually from around here. Born and raised in Chicago, in Lake Forest. I moved to the Loop with my best friend, Teagan. And I live near here.”
“Would that be the lovely lady who was snoring in the cab the night we met?” His lips curve in a restrained grin.
I laugh while taking in his customary handsome attire, a tailored charcoal suit. “Yes, that would be her. Not her finest moment.” Our drinks are delivered, and we both palm our cups while Luca’s legs are contentedly hugging mine. “I came here with Teagan to study Studio and Writing at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, and I never left. After graduation, I worked several jobs and am currently a copywriter at Charity Events.”
“What does a copywriter at Charity Events do?”
“Charity Events hosts parties for different charities to raise money and attract sponsors. The company has relationships with several wealthy benefactors, which allows us to host these events without any costs to the charities. They hire us to organize costume balls, high teas, and club parties. The invites to the events are highly coveted and expensive; we usually make a profit solely on the sold invites. With the profit from each event, we pay the costs of organizing, and the rest goes to the charity. Our team is paid by the owner, and ten percent of our income is a
lso invested into every event.” I catch his eyes thinning briefly. “I, as the copywriter, am responsible for all the written communication: letters to our benefactors and charities, invites, publicity ads for the events. Have you heard of us?”
“No, but I can tell that you enjoy your job.”
“I do. I tend to get distracted quickly, but I’m happy with this job. It’s gratifying to work for these charities, to raise money without charging them anything for our work.”
“That does sound admirable,” he murmurs as his phone rings, and he takes it out of his pocket, silencing it.
“Luca, tell me about you.”
He ponders for a while before starting, “I’ve also lived in Chicago my entire life. My father was Italian, and my mother was American. No siblings. You?”
I shake my head. “No siblings either. You speak Italian?”
“Yes.” His relaxed demeanor has slightly changed. “I grew up on the streets of the Loop, and now I’m a software developer; security software.” He shifts in his seat as his phone vibrates continuously.
“Where do you live? Work?” I ask, and Luca gives me a curious stare, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“The Blackhall, by the Museum of Contemporary Art Store. I work for myself, with a partner.”
“Is your partner your friend who was waiting for you last time we met here?”
“Yes,” he replies and steers the conversation back to me. “Tell me, what do you like to do in your free time?” Luca runs his hand through his hair that’s falling over his forehead, giving him an appealingly disheveled look.
I show him my reader. “I have my books. And don’t ask me if I like reading,” I warn with a smile. My interest in reading goes far beyond liking it. “Reading is my addiction. I usually have the e-book and paperback of the book I’m currently reading. From my favorite books, I try to purchase a copy of every paperback with a different cover. I get restless if I haven’t read at all during the day. Romance novels are my first love. Teagan and my parents always complain that I’m frequently lost in books.”
His response makes my heart skip a beat. “When you compare the sorrows of real life to the pleasures of the imaginary one, you will never want to live again, only to dream forever.”
This is the moment I realize I could fall for this guy. Of all the books in the world he could’ve chosen to quote, Luca quotes one of my all-time favorite classics, Alexandre Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo. I gape at him in silence, amazed that he chose to iterate that specific one.
Luca leans toward me. “I’m good, right?”
Amusement twinkles all over his face, and I can’t contain my grin.
“You were until you added that,” I say, referring to his last arrogant sentence. “You did happen to relay a quote from one of my favorites.”
“Dumas,” we both whisper.
Drinking my Earl Grey, I sigh in contentment of my warm tea. “Tell me more about you. You talked about your parents in the past tense?”
For a moment, he’s lost in melancholy. “My parents died in a car accident when I was ten, and I was raised by my uncle, mio zio Joseph,” he huskily says in Italian. “Mio zio resides in Venice now, but he raised me.”
As he tells me about his parents, I automatically trace my fingertips over his hand but stop immediately when I notice my action. Slowly, I look up at him and am reassured when I’m met with an upward curl of his lips, so I continue caressing the back of his hand. I don’t comment, only listen as my heart aches for a little boy that lost his parents.
“No other family?”
He pauses. “No.” Then he turns his hand rapidly to catch mine, his thumb leisurely circling my palm as his fingers work their way under my sleeve and up my wrist.
I suppress a moan as his simple touch causes my breathing to quicken. “Are you close to your uncle?”
“Very close.” His eyes brighten with love. “He was the one who helped me when my parents passed. If it wasn’t for him, I would’ve been put in the foster care system. I miss him when he’s so far away. His happiness – and he’s much happier in Italy than he ever was here – is important to me. I visit him often.”
“How often?”
“I try to visit him at least twice a year.” With the pad of his thumb, he continues to stroke my wrist, every touch sending me spiraling down the path of desire.
We talk. We flirt. We seduce one another while it’s getting darker outside, the sky turning from clear blue to a dark reddish hue, announcing the evening.
After I finish my tea, I say, “I think it’s time for me to get home.” And I grab my coat from the back of my seat.
“I’ll walk you home, Fallon,” he states, not asks, and he comes up behind me to help me slide out of my seat.
Not in the least bothered by his confident tone, I reply, “I’d like that.”
Luca pays the bill at the counter, refusing to take any money from me, and we silently stroll out together toward my apartment around the corner as the cold winter air rustles around us, making me regret that I forgot to wear my scarf.
As we stand at the entrance of my condo, I search relentlessly through my purse for my keys, completely frustrated that I never leave the keys in the compartment designed for them, until I finally find them in the bottom.
Since Luca’s patiently waiting beside me, I invite him in. “Would you like to come in for a drink, maybe?”
He considers my offer and moves closer, our body heat mingling as he hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me flush against him. I look up through my lashes into his eyes, which are darkening with lust, the deep green of his irises overtaken by his black pupils, and his hooded gaze is fixated on my lips.
Luca’s nose traces my jaw as he takes in a shaky breath. “You smell so sweet.”
His controlled, low voice enthralls me, sending hot sparks through my belly as one hand tangles in my hair and tugs my head back to expose my throat. His lips start a path up my neck and over my chin.
I’m becoming numb to the cold air as he warms my skin with his kisses. Luca grazes his lips over my mouth, back and forth ever so lightly. Our lips touch gently at first, but the moment our mouths open, we both lose control and our tongues entwine feverishly, the taste of his kiss full of promised desire.
He pulls back a fraction, and I immediately close the distance between us, standing on my tiptoes to twine my arms behind his neck, and push my fingers up into his hair at the back of his head. Luca smiles against my mouth before he continues. I think he likes this push and pull game we’re playing. The kiss is gentle, fiery, and sensuous, sending tingles straight to my lower stomach. He kisses me on my lips, but I feel him all over my skin. Our bodies melt together while our tongues passionately dance, the traffic around us fading away until there’s only him and me.
The kiss deepens as he presses against me, causing me to moan, and I feel myself drifting away in the spell he weaves. I suck on his tongue and am rewarded with his low growl, but then he pulls back.
“I want to come in, but I have an appointment,” he grumbles, disappointed, and rests his forehead against mine while still holding me tightly to him.
Regrettably, the world invades our private embrace, and I notice the traffic and people again as I try to step away to regain my focus. That kiss has left me spinning. As our breathing calms down, we’re silent, no longer touching, only staring, as we’re inches apart.
Without speaking, I turn to open the door and glance back at Luca, whose eyes still blaze with lust.
“I’ll call you, Fallon. That’s a promise.” It comes out in an enticing, threatening tone that makes me yearn for him as he traces the pad of his thumb along his lower lip while he waits for me to enter the building.
“Good night, Luca,” I murmur.
Inside my apartment, I drop down onto the couch with my coat still on, tossing my keys and purse onto the coffee table. Smiling, I touch my heated cheek with the back of my hand.
After jus
t sitting on my couch for several minutes, I shed my coat and go to the kitchen, opening my fridge to see what I can make for dinner. I should eat a chicken salad tonight after devouring so many muffins these last few weeks.
Wanting a distraction from my incessant thoughts which keep wandering to Luca, I decide to concentrate on my favorite thing: reading.
I pull my hair up into a messy bun. Taking my phone off the desk and the paperback version of the e-book I’m reading from my bookshelf, I lie down on the couch, cover myself with the blue fleece blanket that’s hanging over the back of it, open my book to chapter nine, and become quickly immersed in my novel again.
After I don’t know how long, I receive a text from him.
Luca: Fallon, I bet you’re lost in a fictional couple. I want to take you to dinner. Tomorrow at 7?
Since I’ve never wanted anyone the way I’m starting to want him, I reply instantly.
Fallon: Busted! I’m currently preoccupied with a hot soldier. It’s a date.
CHAPTER 7
Luca
Fallon’s indirectly tied to the Syndicate on so many levels. Alex Gentry, the owner of Charity Events, is an associate of the Syndicate, which means that he works for us sometimes, although he’s not considered a true member. And I wonder if Fallon is being completely forthcoming; if she truly doesn’t know that Charity Events isn’t a legitimate company.
However, right now, I have more important problems to handle. I know I shouldn’t have kissed her, but I couldn’t not kiss her. And her soft little moans excited me even more. While I keep telling myself that I only continue to meet Fallon to obtain essential info, my gut is telling me she’ll be of no help and I’m deluding myself. This is becoming much more than just gathering information. She’s starting to consume my thoughts, and she’s seeping into my psyche.
