by L A Cotton
“Jonah sure knows where to find them.” Matteo let out a low whistle.
“See something you like?” I taunted.
“Fuck off.” He flipped me off. “I’m just saying, that’s a lot of skin on display for winter. I’m pretty sure my balls have crawled back into my body.”
He wasn’t wrong. The wind had an icy bite that was like a thousand tiny blades over my face as we approached the entrance.
“Enzo, my man,” the security guy extended his fist. “Wondered if you’d stop by. Matteo.” He nodded at my cousin. “Jonah is inside, already draped in pussy.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” I smirked. Jonah was always down for a good time.
“Hey, you good?” He pressed a hand to my chest, his eyes going to my tender knuckles.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” It came out tight. Giving me a stiff nod, he dropped his hand. “Enjoy your night. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” His gruff laughter followed me inside.
The heat instantly hit me, and I shucked out of my jacket and handed it to the attendant in exchange for a ticket. Matteo did the same, rolling up the sleeves on his fitted black shirt.
“It feels weird without Nicco,” he said.
“Yeah.”
Nicco wasn’t only our cousin, he was our best friend, and our capo. Usually where he went, we followed, but we couldn’t exactly follow him and his wife—fuck me, we were too young to be wifed up—to New York on their honeymoon.
“Are you… pouting?” Matteo snickered.
“Fuck off. I don’t pout.”
“Cous, that’s a pout if ever I saw one.” He grabbed my cheeks and smushed them together. “You’re missing him, aren’t you?”
“I’m not… oh, fuck off.” Shirking him off, I made a beeline for the bar. Sleek, black, and chrome, the counter ran along one length of the room. I dropped onto a stool at the end and rapped my knuckles on the counter.
“Enzo, my man,” the bartender said. “What’ll it be?”
“The strongest thing you’ve got.”
“Shit, man. Bad day?”
“Try bad fucking year.”
“I’ll make it a double.” He chuckled. “Matteo?”
“I’ll take a beer, thanks.”
“You should probably wrap those.” Matt motioned to my hand.
“Nah, I like the pain.”
“Of course you do,” he mumbled. “You know, I wasn’t trying to be a jerk back there.”
“I know.” My jaw clenched, remembering how good it had felt to put my fists through that asshole’s face. “What did you do with him?”
“Called clean up and told them to turn him over to the cops.”
“Shit, Matt, that isn’t—”
“He’s not going to talk, not to us. But he might if he thinks he’s going to spend the next six years getting ass raped in the State Pen. Dante and Craddick will work him over.”
Dante and Craddick were two of the local police officers in our pocket.
“Someone tried to move in on our territory, we need to find out who.” My hand trembled as I made a tight fist.
Morello’s was one of the Family’s businesses up in Providence. It had been broken into last week and trashed. They hadn’t gotten the contents of the safe, but they had left a nice little message in the way of a barely recognizable Johnny Morello. The guy was lucky to be alive.
It was a bold move, hurting one of our own.
“And we will,” Matteo said, eyeing me with caution. “But some decisions aren’t our call to make.”
The bartender slid our drinks in front of us but didn’t hang around. I grabbed mine, taking a big mouthful. As promised, the double measure of scotch was strong, but I welcomed the burn.
“He’s a rat, Matt. And you want to just hand him over to the cops?”
The tip-off had come from our friends down in Providence about a guy who had been running his mouth about Johnny Morello’s. We’d caught up to him just outside Verona County and lifted his ass to see what we could find out.
“Not me. Uncle Toni. And it’s different, you know it is.” His expression faltered. “He’s not our rat to exterminate.”
Silence descended over us, thick and heavy. It was like a fucking noose around my neck. How was I supposed to just accept what my old man had done?
A traitor.
He’d betrayed us right under our noses. I couldn’t just let that go.
I wouldn’t.
“Hey, Enzo, looking good.” A tall blonde approached us, running her hand up my arm. “I was hoping to see you here.”
“Yeah?” I tried to place her but came up blank.
“Mari,” she reminded me, “we hooked up last month.”
“Marielle, right? I remember.”
Matteo smothered a snicker, and I shot him a hard look.
“You got any friends for my cousin?” I said around a smirk. “He’s going through a bit of a dry spell, if you know what I mean.”
“Fuck you,” he mouthed, fighting a smile. “I’m going to take a leak.” He gripped my shoulder and leaned in, whispering, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
“What, you mean cuddle and talk about the weather?”
“Don’t worry, Matteo, I’ll keep him company.” Marielle moved closer, tucking her tight little body against mine. She was wearing a sparkly halter top that left nothing to the imagination. Her long hair hung down her back and her pouty lips were painted blood red.
My favorite color.
I could imagine them wrapped around my dick while I fucked her mouth, my hand fisting her silky blonde locks.
“I’m down, if you are.” She flashed me a knowing smirk.
“You read minds, hot stuff?” My brow quirked. “What other special skills do you have?”
“Take me around back and I’ll refresh your memory.”
“Let’s go.” I nudged her forward so I could climb off the stool. She slipped her hand into mine, and for a second, I wanted to shove her away. I wasn’t looking to play games or let some bitch think she had ownership of me. But everyone was too wrapped up in the party to notice me and Marielle slip out the back exit.
Without a word, I pulled her into the wall and gripped her shoulder, forcing her to her knees. Her giggles grated on me, but I tried to block it all out as she popped my belt and the button on my jeans like a pro. Wrapping my hand around her luscious locks, I yanked Mari’s head back, forcing her to look at me. She licked her lips, staring up at me with lust-drunk eyes and an overeager smile. “I can’t wait to taste you again.”
Right. Because we’d danced this dance before… only I had zero recollection of it because I’d been too out of it to remember.
She dipped her hand into my jeans and stroked my dick, pulling it free until it bobbed between us. “Maybe later, I’ll get another ride.” Her brow lifted.
“Suck me good, and perhaps I’ll reward you.”
She didn’t waste any time, taking me into her mouth and sucking me hard.
“Fuuuuuck,” I hissed, my head dropping back against the wall with a thud. She felt good, hoovering me down until I hit the back of her throat. I tightened my fist in her hair, forcing her to take me deeper. Her hand went to my hip, trying to steady herself as I fucked her mouth without restraint.
“E-Enzo,” she garbled, tearing off me, “what the fuck? I can’t breathe.”
Her words were like a bucket of ice-cold water and I released her. “I thought you wanted to get me off?” I growled.
“I-I do.” She pouted, reaching back for me and jacking me slowly. “But let me take control, yeah?”
“That’s not how this works, dolcezza, and you know it.”
I didn’t want her controlling shit. I wanted to get off, go back to the party, and drown my demons in the strongest liquor Jonah had lining his top shelf.
“Enzo, I can make you feel good. Just relax, let me take care of you.”
Her words were like a knife to the fucking stomach.
Let me take care of you.
Only one girl had ever whispered that to me… and I’d almost let her.
I’d almost handed her the power to completely ruin me.
Nora Abato.
Fuck.
Just thinking her name gutted me in a way I hadn’t expected.
If my piece of shit father taught me anything, it was that pussy was the enemy. Before you knew what was happening, it lured you in with promises of a good time. You grew attached, you wanted more… you wanted her.
But love didn’t make you strong, it made you weak.
And I had no desire to find myself wifed up like Nicco, risking everything for something as fickle as love.
“Enzo?” Marielle’s shrill voice yanked me back into the moment.
“We’re done here.” I pulled my dick away and tucked him back inside my jeans.
“Done? But we only just—”
“You should go on back into the party.”
“But—”
“Ma sparisci!” I barked and she hurried inside, her gasp of surprise barely thawing the ice around my heart.
I pulled out a smoke and lit it up, dragging in a deep lungful of tobacco. When the back door opened again, I was hardly surprised to find Matteo.
“Thought I’d find you out here,” he said. “What did you do? Your little friend looked pissed.”
“Told her to fuck off mid-blow job.”
“Shit, man,” his chuckle came out thin, “that’s cold, even for you.”
“She was getting clingy.”
“And God forbid anyone try to get close to you, right?”
“Don’t.” I bristled.
“You and Nor—”
“I said don’t.”
I didn’t want to talk about me and Nora, or the way she’d started to soften my hard exterior.
It had been a few good fucks, nothing else.
So what if she was my best friend’s wife’s best friend? I’d done a pretty good job of avoiding her the past few weeks. I was confident I could keep it up. Especially since I had no plans to return to Montague University next week.
Nicco, Matteo, and I had enrolled eighteen months ago to gather intel about Roberto Capizola, the Family’s biggest threat in the last decade. But he was no longer an issue. The job was done, and we didn’t need to keep up pretenses anymore.
I no longer had to tolerate college classes or any of the bullshit that came with being a student.
“Whatever, man. I’m heading back inside. Jonah was just about to break out the snacks.”
“Snacks? Seriously?”
“What? I’m hungry.” He shrugged.
“You’re a fucking idiot. It isn’t any wonder you can’t get regular pussy.”
“Hey, I can get regular pussy. I just choose not to.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to pull a Nicco on me?” It was bad enough I’d lost one best friend to a woman; I didn’t need to lose Matteo too.
“Ah, don’t worry, cous. Even if I did meet the woman of my dreams, I’d never abandon your cranky ass.”
I flipped him off, shouldering past him to go inside. Tension rippled through me and since Marielle had ruined what could have been a perfectly good blow job, I’d have to settle for finding peace at the bottom of a bottle of expensive scotch.
Something strong enough to drown out the demons.
Chapter 2
Nora
There was something inspiring about the first day of a brand new year. It wasn’t so much any one thing, it was the possibilities. The ifs, whats, and maybes.
Being a college freshman, I might have expected to wake up this morning with a killer headache and last night’s makeup smeared across my face. As it was, I felt as fresh as a daisy and my skin was silky smooth thanks to the nourishing mask I’d applied last night.
There was something to be said for staying in on New Year’s Eve.
“Nora,” my mom called. “Breakfast.”
My stomach grumbled at the mention of food, and I smiled to myself. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one happy that I didn’t feel hungover.
Pushing the covers off my body, I sat up and swung my legs over the side of my bed, taming my wild curls out of my face. Hangover or no hangover I never escaped a bad case of bed hair.
A yawn escaped my lips as I leaned over and snatched up my cell phone, checking for messages. I smiled at the two from my best friend Arianne. The first was a picture of her and her husband, Nicco as they posed in front of Times Square. The second was a message.
Happy New Year, Nora. You’re the best friend a girl could ever wish for and I love you more than anything. Except Nicco (he made me type that).
I chuckled, scrolling down the message.
New York is amazing. We have to come one time. Just the two of us. I’ll see you when we get back to Verona. Nicco says hi. xo
Smiling, I texted her back.
Enjoy your last couple of days. You deserve it, Ari. xo
After the shitshow that was our first semester at college, my best friend deserved all her dreams to come true. It was hard to believe that she was married to Niccolò Marchetti, son of mafia boss Antonio Marchetti. But having witnessed them fall headfirst in love with one another, who was I to judge?
They were young, yes. But when you knew, you knew. Besides, they had that written-in-the-stars thing working for them.
My heart cinched, but I shook it off, pushing my feet into my fluffy, pink slippers.
“Nora, cucci—”
“I’m coming, Mom,” I yelled. Grabbing my Montague University hoodie, I slipped it on and followed the smell of pancakes down the stairs.
“Happy New Year, baby,” she sing-songed as I entered the room.
“Happy New Year, Mom.” I helped myself to coffee before perching on a stool at the breakfast counter. “Something smells good.”
She grinned. “It’s almost done.”
“Where’s Dad?”
“You know your father, Nora, he’s out jogging.”
My mother and father worked for Arianne’s parents, Roberto and Gabriella Capizola, they had for my entire life. We lived on their estate in a separate cottage nestled on the west perimeter. It was modest, but it had the best views of the Blackstone River. I’d grown up here, exploring the grounds, playing with my brother Gio, Ari, and her older cousin Tristan. But as I got older, I dreamed of more. Of life beyond the gated perimeter and guards posted on every way in and out.
“When are you headed back?” Mom placed a stack of pancakes in front of me. I added a handful of blueberries and a drizzle of syrup and dived in.
“I was thinking I might head back later.”
Her brows knitted. “I’m not sure I like the idea of you staying there all alone now Ari is—”
“Ari is married, Mom. Married. Of course she’s going to live with Nicco. I’m safe, I promise. La Stella is one of Roberto’s buildings. It has excellent security and Maurice is still around.”
He wasn’t, not really.
But she didn’t need to know that.
I didn’t need close protection now. The threat to the Marchetti, to Arianne, was gone. But Maurice, my assigned bodyguard, did show up now and again to check in. I think it was Arianne’s way of letting me know she still cared.
I knew she did. But she was married. Freakin’ married. Our friendship was going to change whether we wanted it to or not.
“What’s the matter with your pancakes, cucciola?”
“They’re great, Mama, I’m just…” I swallowed the words. It was New Year’s Day. I didn’t want to be all mopey on the first day of a brand new year.
Giving my head a little shake, I inhaled a deep breath and forked another piece of pancake into my mouth. So what if Arianne no longer lived in our apartment and was married? It didn’t mean life was over. She was still going to attend classes at MU. We’d still see each other all the time.
“Love changes people,” my mom whispered.
My eyes slid to hers, and a weak smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
Oh, Mama, you don’t know the half of it.
I didn’t hang around at the cottage. After eating my mom’s famous risotto with my parents, Maurice gave me a ride back to University Hill.
“I’ll do a quick sweep,” he said, producing his key.
“You still have that?” My brow lifted, and he chuckled.
“I’ll just be a second.” Hand secured on his gun holster, he slipped inside.
I wasn’t even a little bit worried.
The bad guys were gone, and everything was fine. But as I waited for Maurice to do his thing, a shudder ran down my spine as the memories tried to push themselves to the surface.
Less than two months ago, I’d been kidnapped and used as bait to lure Nicco and Arianne to their bloody end. Nicco had been shot, and my best friend had stabbed Scott Fascini, the guy working with his father to bring down the Marchetti with a knife until the life drained from his eyes.
He was gone, and his father was locked away with no chance of parole for a long time.
Nicco and Ari were safe.
I was safe.
Everything was—
“All clear.” Maurice yanked the door open and I went inside.
We’d barely had time to make ourselves at home here before Arianne and Nicco got engaged. Swallowing the pinch of loneliness, I walked over to the window and pulled the blinds, letting the winter sun pour into the room.
“You don’t have to stay,” I said to Maurice when I noticed him hovering.
“Mr. and Mrs. Marchetti—”
“Asked you to stick around?” The words caught over the lump in my throat.
“They thought you might like the company.” He gave me a stiff nod.
“Maurice, I’m fine.”
Fine.
The word was cotton in my mouth.
I needed to do this—I needed to be here alone, without Maurice standing watch.
“Miss Ab—”
“Maurice,” I snapped. “I said I’ve got this.”
