Jack of Spades: A Mafia Romance

by Rose, Renee

  “Listen, amore. We’re going to Memphis. If you decide you don’t want to play, then we’ll go to Graceland and see the King. Or we’ll stay in the hotel room and you can punish me for springing this on you. ‘Kay?”

  A few tears spill and I let out a watery laugh. “Yeah. Okay. Asshole.”

  “Still your boss, baby.” He gives me a mock-stern look that makes my toes curl.

  I let him lead me through the security line and into our first-class seats on the airplane where my eyes start to water again.

  My boyfriend.

  Sheesh.

  No one has ever been this sweet to me in my whole life.

  And knowing that makes me even sicker thinking about my dad and his goddamn investigation.

  I need to stop him.

  And actually, this poker championship may give me the way.

  * * *

  Stefano

  Twenty bucks will get you a long way with most any stranger. I have a clutch of them in my hand and I’m offering them up in what may be the craziest thing I’ve ever attempted.

  I must be in love.

  That’s the only explanation for this scene I’ve facilitated outside the room of Corey’s first poker match. I told her I needed to make a few phone calls and that I’d pick us up some coffee and meet her here.

  She wasn’t thrilled about being left alone. I think her nerves were getting to her, but she didn’t seem suspicious.

  Now, though, I’m starting to worry that she won’t show. I did tell her she didn’t have to if she didn’t want.

  What if she never comes down?

  “How’s this look?” A pretty millennial with a makeup pencil in her hand asks. She’s written C-O-R-E-Y across her face. A group of her friends are working on the TEAM COREY banner. They’re all wearing the Corey sashes I had pre-printed for the event. I recruited nineteen random strangers in all who are committed to being here to cheer Corey on when she comes. It doesn’t hurt that most of them have been drinking and would be up for doing almost anything for twenty bucks apiece.

  If she comes.

  Merda.

  I check my watch. She was supposed to meet me here five minutes ago. Come on, baby. Just then, a long pair of legs below a red skirt appears on the escalator coming down.

  “Here she comes.” I clap my hands and the rowdy crew snaps together in a cluster, holding up the sign and waving their flags as the rest of Corey’s body comes into view. She’s wearing one of the red dresses I bought her and looks like a million bucks. No, a billion. She looks like a winner. Definitely a champion.

  “COR-ey, COR-ey, COR-ey,” one of the crew starts chanting and the rest join in.

  Corey’s face comes into view, her hand across her mouth, eyebrows to her hairline. “Oh my god,” she mutters as she stumbles off the escalator. I catch her in my arms. “What have you done?”

  “I assembled a cheering squad.”

  Tears swim in her eyes. “Jesus, Stefano,” she chokes. “You did this for me? Now you’re making me cry.” She waves her hands in front of her face, blinking rapidly as she laughs. “I never cry. Only you do this to me.”

  I slide my hands around her waist and nuzzle her neck. “You’re safe with me,” I murmur. I’ll take her tears. Guard her emotions with my life.

  “Thank you,” she whispers. “You’re amazing.” Then she pushes me back and stares at her champions again. “Who are these people?” she demands.

  I laugh. “Turns out, cheering squads can be hired, which doesn’t mean you don’t already have raving fans. They just don’t know you yet.” I wink and steer her toward the door for the competition. “You’d better get in there, it’s going to start in ten minutes.

  She blows out a quick breath. “Stefano, you’re insane.”

  No, just in love. I don’t say it, though. She’s too easily scared off and I’m still not certain she feels the same.

  “Go in there and kick some ass.” I tap her hip because I don’t think she’d appreciate having her ass slapped in public.

  She squares her shoulders and tosses her gorgeous hair as she marches in to take her seat at the table.

  I find a seat in the audience. I only have a view of Corey’s back, but the giant screens all around the room televise the event, and the cameras are loving on Corey. Who could blame them? She’s about one thousand times easier on the eyes than the grizzled men she’s playing against. I’d be surprised if the cameras ever move from her face this entire tournament.

  If only she knew how much everyone watching would love to root her on.

  * * *

  Corey

  I get dealt the shittiest cards in the history of poker. I fold three hands in a row. Part of me is ready to just stand up and walk out of here. I’ve seen enough of gambling to know that when luck isn’t with you, you have to walk away.

  But Stefano did so much to get me here. Surprised me with this trip, set up the cheering squad. How fucking sweet was that? He actually listened to the story I told him about playing soccer as a kid and tried to remedy it.

  He’s one in a million, this guy.

  And that’s why I have to keep playing. Not because he cares whether I win or lose. I believe him when he say he doesn’t.

  No, I need to win big, because I have a purpose for this money. And it could be a matter of life or death.

  I’m not the praying sort, but I start asking Lady Luck, the angels, God, fairies, leprechauns and whatever the hell else might be out there to show up and help me out. And then I remember that desperation never wins. Control wins but not as big or with ease. No, the gut gamblers, they surrender.

  So I sit back and imagine I’m tied to Stefano’s bed. Imagine I’m surrendering to him. To pleasure. I have no choice but to receive.

  A tingling starts between my legs and I have to press my inner thighs together to alleviate the slow throb of my clit. My nipples harden and I start to sweat. All the guys at the table start glancing over at me, like they sense the change.

  And I get dealt four aces. Four freaking aces!

  And that’s when I start to feel the energy pulsing around me. With each hand I win, I get hornier and hornier, as if every win is a sexual gift, every dollar the stimulation I need to get off.

  Five hours later, I’m nearly delirious with need and I’m up one hundred thousand dollars.

  I play it safe until the end of the tournament. When it’s finally over, the announcer gives my total winnings and I hear cheers behind me. I spin around and take in the audience. They are whistling and cheering for me. The sound catches on and pretty soon, the entire place is clapping, including the men I was playing with.

  Giddiness kicks in and I laugh, disarmed by the unexpected affection of strangers. Fortunately, Stefano appears at my side, because I’m not sure I remember how to walk, and then we’re out of there, up to our hotel suite, where he takes me in every position imaginable until I pass out from utter delirium.

  Chapter 15

  Corey

  Getting away from Stefano these days isn’t as easy a feat as it should be. I wouldn’t call him controlling, but he definitely likes to keep tabs on me.

  We flew back today and he went straight to work, but I had to make up a story about meeting a friend for dinner to get him off my back.

  I quickly pack the suitcase of cash we brought back into a duffel bag and make the call. In a way, I’m still riding the wave from yesterday. It’s like I can see all the possibilities and how they will shape up. I know just how to play each situation. I know just what to say to put Stefano at ease, and I know just what to say to my dad. I keep the call short, urgent and cryptic.

  Then I get in my car to meet him.

  I don’t want to meet at my apartment, but I don’t want him anywhere near the Bellissimo either, so it will have to do. The air inside my tiny one-bedroom smells stale, like I haven’t lived there in years. Even though it’s still my old furniture and my books are on the shelves, it feels nothing like home. I’m not th
e person I was when I lived here. I don’t even like her much. She was closed off, barricaded into a confined existence. Afraid to love, afraid to live.

  I take one bundle of cash out of the bag and stash it under the sofa cushion. It doesn’t hurt to have a little emergency money.

  A knock sounds on the door and my dad pushes it open before I respond. “What’s going on? Are you in danger?” His gaze is sharp and he stands up like he’s going to try to hug me or something.

  Oh that’s ripe. Like he ever cared about me. He’s just hoping I want to give him the scoop on his case.

  “No.” I toss the duffel bag filled with my winnings on the couch and unzip it, giving him a nice view of the cash.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “I won it in a poker tournament.”

  My dad snorts; he doesn’t believe me. That’s because he doesn’t think I’m good enough to win anything.

  “There’s a little over one hundred grand in here.”

  A small smile plays on his lips. He’s figured out where this is going. Or he thinks he has. “You want to buy your boyfriend some safety.”

  I was right.

  I always suspected my dad was corrupt. How could anyone who truly believed in justice be such as asshole?

  I put my hands on my hips. “That’s right.”

  He nods his head slowly. “All right. I can make his problems go away. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be new ones. And I may not be the one investigating next time. Is this really the kind of guy you want to keep company with?”

  Yeah. I’ve had this conversation with myself already. It gnaws me up inside. Stefano is a product of his family and he can’t get away from them, even if he and his brother are doing their best to rise above it all. So it’s absolutely possible there will be another death. More violence. Illegal acts that could endanger Stefano.

  But I can’t even think about that. I’m just trying to find my way through this crisis, and if I have a way of protecting Stefano, I’m going to do it.

  “That’s for me to figure out,” I say. “Not your problem.”

  My dad gives a humorless chuckle. “Right.” He picks up the bag of cash. “I’ll clean up the mess this time. But I suggest you get the hell away from the Tacone family. If I find myself investigating you next time, it won’t be so easy for me to suppress evidence.

  I want to ask him what evidence he has, just so I know, but I’m itchy to get away from him. I feel dirty and wrong having this conversation and I want it to be over.

  “Got it, yeah.” I walk to the door and hold it open for him.

  He tips an imaginary hat and walks out. “You take care of yourself, Corey Jean.”

  Fuck you.

  I don’t say it because he’s not worth the breath.

  Chapter 16

  Corey

  I may have been riding the wave of luck on my way over, but a growing sense of dread tells me my run is over.

  The money’s gone, boyfriend saved. I used up my mojo for the moment.

  Time to lie low and recharge.

  Nothing feels sweet or special anymore. My win in Memphis, Stefano’s sweetness, all feel tainted by this exchange.

  I drive back, hollowness stretching inside me, threatening to take over, drag me under. I want to go up to Stefano’s suite and crawl into bed, pull the covers up over my head and block out life for a few hours. Instead, I stop in Stefano’s office to let him know I’m back, or maybe it’s because guilt about lying to him is gnawing at me.

  Leo’s in his office, but Stefano waves me in with a smile. Again, I have that sense of my luck going flat. The buoyancy that swept me through the tournament is dead still. Next time, I’ll heed the prickle of warning, the knowing that everything is off. That something’s about to go horribly wrong.

  As it is, I push away the queasiness, sit down in the chair Stefano waves me into.

  “Leo’s just showing me a new piece of equipment we got in for security.”

  “Oh yeah? What is it?”

  Leo produces a small wand-type instrument and flips a switch. Green lights illuminate the tip. “It scans for microdevices with signals in them.” He stands up and runs it over his own body. It beeps when it goes over his jacket pocket. “You see? That’s my cell phone.” He produces the phone and sets it on the desk.

  He continues waving the wand around, bringing it over my purse, where it turns red and beeps again. “That’s your phone.”

  I unzip my bag and produce the phone, setting it on the desk beside his. He continues scanning my purse and the device beeps again.

  “That’s weird,” I say, digging in my purse again. “What else sets it off?”

  Leo and Stefano go dead still. “Bugs.” Leo’s affable manner’s fallen away, his expression icy. “May I?” The words are polite, but the way he says them makes me shiver.

  I shove my bag in his direction. Of course I know there’s nothing in it. I glance at Stefano, but he’s not looking at me, he’s intent on the bag.

  Leo waves the wand inside the bag, setting it off again, and he turns the bag inside out. Attached to the lining is a tiny button that makes the device go wild.

  Cold flushes through me. “What is that? I’ve never seen that before.” My voice is higher in pitch. I sound like a liar, even to my own ears, but it’s the damn truth.

  Leo produces a gun and cocks it at my head, the sound loud in the silent office.

  I fully expect Stefano to tell him to put it away but he doesn’t say a word. His face is pale, expression flat.

  Panic surges and I scramble up to my feet. The muzzle of the gun follows me. “I-I didn’t know that was in there.”

  Still keeping the gun trained at my head, Leo advances, waving the wand over me. It doesn’t beep again. Stefano picks the bug up and crushes it between his fingers, then he smashes my phone on the side of the desk until it pops open. He examines the inside of it and sets it down.

  Tears spear my eyes. “My dad,” I choke. “My dad must’ve put it in there. But I never told him anything. I swear.”

  “Are you working with your dad?” Stefano’s voice is eerily calm and detached.

  I shake my head quickly. “No.” Tears roll down my face. “But he’s here in Las Vegas. He’s investigating the disappearance of Donahue. I told him I didn’t know anything, but maybe that’s when he—” I swipe at my tears with the back of my hand. “When he put it in there.”

  Jesus, my story sounds stupid and implausible even though it’s the stone cold truth.

  “When was this?” Stefano clips.

  “Right after it happened.” My voice cracks. “He was at my apartment when I came home.”

  “And you kept that from me.” Stefano says it like I’ve just forever damned myself.

  “He was in Chicago, too.” I admit, as if telling him now will make up for my earlier omissions. “At the wedding. He said he has evidence. I gave him the money from Memphis to suppress it.”

  Stefano surges to his feet, knocking his chair to the floor. I don’t move, even though I’m shaking like a baby bird. He fists my hair and brings his face close to mine.. A muscle tics in his cheek, but his eyes are dead. “You tell your father,” he snarls, “he shouldn’t get his family involved in business.”

  It’s a bald threat and I’m full-on terrified. It’s a wonder I don’t piss myself.

  “You broke my fucking heart, Corey Simonson.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, because his expression is breaking mine, but he releases me abruptly and shoves me away. “Get out. Don’t ever come back here. Don’t ever let me see your face again, bella. I won’t show mercy a second time.”

  “Stefano,” I whisper-plead. I want to explain—or better yet, go back in time and be more transparent from the beginning. Maybe I could avoid this betrayal of his faith in me.

  But it’s too late. Leo grabs my elbow and yanks me through the door, slamming it behind me.

  I can barely see as I toddle out, tears blinding me.
My purse is still in their office, so I have nothing: no keys, no money, no phone, nowhere to go.

  I find my way outside and start walking, away from the Bellissimo, away from Stefano. Away from everything I loved.

  * * *

  Stefano

  The minute she’s gone, I throw the desk over. I want to smash everything in sight. She never loved me. She played me. Ruined me.

  Leo watches, silent at first. “Want me to take care of her?”

  “No.”

  Even as angry as I am, as broken and betrayed and fucking insane as I am, I could never harm Corey.

  “I’m not sure you really have the perspective necessary to make this call.”

  I throw myself at Leo, cut off his air as I shove him up against the wall. “You don’t ever question my judgment. Not on this. Not on anything. Capiche?”

  “Yeah. Got it, boss,” Leo says quickly.

  I storm out, because if I stay, I’m going to kill the guy. I go up to our suite—my suite—fuck!—and I immediately know it was a mistake.

  The place smells like her. Reminds me of her. Slays me.

  I go on a rampage, throwing furniture, putting my fist through the wall.

  All this fucking time I thought she was holding back because she was protecting her heart. But she wasn’t. She was playing me.

  I heard the warning bells about her fucking dad. I knew getting involved with her would bite me. I just chose to ignore it. I was too captivated by the enigma that is Corey Simonson. I wanted to be the guy who set her free. Wanted to know what it’s like to get inside her shell. To be her man.

  I am a fucking idiot.

  I pace around the wrecked room, trying to remember every single thing I ever said in her presence. She saw me shoot Donahue. That’s a problem, for sure. But what else—

  I stop.

  She saw me shoot Donahue and didn’t go to the cops. If she had, why would they need a bug? Unless they want to take down Nico, too. Or just get as much info as possible.