by Bethany-Kris
It still looked damned good.
Tom had the distinct feeling that Camilla could make any hairstyle look like something out of a runway show. He couldn’t help but ask, What are you going to do next?
Camilla’s reply was instant. That’s what you ask when I send you a picture like that?
Laughing under his breath, and entirely forgetting about his friend just a couple of feet away, Tom typed back, I was thinking about choking you while I fucked you, but the new hair had me curious. I like the new studs, by the way. The pink balls matches the hair a bit.
I was thinking of getting something else done—lower, you know?
Tom whistled, and typed back, How low?
Her reply came in fast again with, I’ve heard sucking or biting on a clit piercing feels like—
“What are you grinning about—whoa,” Lou said as he tipped Tom’s hand down and got a partial view of Camilla’s picture—only her legs given how many texts had come after the picture—and the texts.
Tom hadn’t been expecting that, as he’d been too lost in his conversation with Camilla to pay any mind to his friend. Instantly, he jerked his arm back and got the phone out of Lou’s sight. “No way, man. Fuck off.”
Lou’s eyes flew wide, and he tossed his hands up in surrender. “Shit, sorry. You were grinning like some kind of fool, and I just thought—”
He pointed at Lou, saying, “Not your business, okay.”
“I got it, Tom, no worries.”
Tom’s phone buzzed again, but he didn’t take the message. Instead, he shoved the phone in his pocket and decided to wait for a bit when he didn’t have somebody looking over his shoulder. Even if that somebody was a friend. Camilla hadn’t sent that picture for anybody else to be looking at, and Tom wasn’t going to break her confidence in that way.
He meant to say something else to his friend, but the raising of the warehouse’s bay doors took his attention to the incoming crew members.
Actually, just two.
Two that should have been with one other guy for the heist of a truck full of high end goods. The shit sold well on the streets in markets, vendors, and other places. Like a black market right out in the open for stolen product.
“Where’s Joshua?” Tom asked.
The two fools looked between each other with wary gazes. Tom didn’t see an incoming truck, either.
“And where’s the fucking shit you guys were supposed to have here already?”
“Something happened,” one of the two—Dale—said.
“We had to hightail it out of there. Josh got left behind,” the other one—Terry—put in.
“Behind,” Tom echoed. “What’s that fucking mean, huh?”
“The blue line came out in force, Skip.”
“Damn,” Lou muttered.
“He got picked up by the cops?” Tom asked, both pissed and concerned.
This could be attention they didn’t need.
The two foot soldiers nodded. “Yeah. It wasn’t an easy boost like we thought—guess the trucker thought something was up.”
Or the three idiots weren’t careful enough.
This was a problem Tom didn’t need at the moment. Only two weeks into running this crew on his own, and already, his guys were getting picked up on the street like fucking thugs. He couldn’t really afford to lose a guy, considering how much work they had, but the twenty-something-year-old would be replaced soon enough. They couldn’t be seen with someone getting picked up by the cops—it was bad for business.
“Your contact with Joshua ends now,” Tom said, heading for the office in the warehouse. “All of you. No contact at all. Pass the word around. If I find out any of you are hanging out with him after he gets released—if he even does—you’re done. You’ll be lucky if you get a proper fucking grave. Don’t test me.”
“Got it, Skip,” came the collective reply.
Tom hadn’t fully closed the door before the conversation started up. They likely thought he couldn’t hear him.
“Little boss needs to relax,” Dale said.
“You guys know how this works,” Lou replied. “You get picked up, then you’re dropped. That’s all there is to it.”
“What, sucking Tom’s dick now, Lou?”
“Fuck off, Terry.”
“That why you were doing the grunt work today instead of helping us, or what?”
“Keep pushing him,” Lou warned, “and keep pushing me, asshole. See what happens.”
Tom closed the door. Lou had his side of things handled, and there wasn’t much more he could do without possibly causing his friend more issues with the guys. Nobody needed that shit.
Pulling out his phone, he saw the rest of Camilla’s text he hadn’t gotten the chance to read, plus her newest one.
I might get it done, she said.
Tom couldn’t help himself, but that wasn’t anything new where she was concerned. Tell me more, he typed back.
Tom handed over a stack of cash to Adriano, and the older man slid it into the machine on the desk. The bills slipped through the counter, and came out in a neat pile on the other side. A number lit up the screen.
“You’re about ten thousand short,” Adriano noted.
“Might have helped had those bunch of idiots not fucked up the heist last week, not to mention the fact I lost a guy altogether.”
Adriano hummed under his breath. “Josh still in lockup?”
“Seems so. Can’t afford the bail, I guess.”
“You’re keeping the rest of them far away from him, right?”
“Best I can.”
Tom had gotten wind that one of the guys from the crew paid a visit to Joshua, but nothing more. He only let it slide because the guy was upfront about it, and his motives. Apparently, Joshua’s girlfriend was skipping town, and dropped by to let the other guy know. After that, it was all radio silence.
“I get why the cash is short,” Adriano said as he glanced up at Tom from his seat behind the desk, “but that doesn’t excuse it, Tommaso. That’s the thing about this business—your father expects his dues, regardless if you’ve hit your bottom line or not. Figure something out with the guys, or make up the difference owed on your own. That’s how it works. Got it?”
He didn’t like it, but he understood.
“Yeah, I got it,” Tom said.
“Also, keep an eye on those idiots.”
“What do you mean?”
“You might be short for another reason, if you get my drift.”
“Sticky fingers?”
As in, thieves.
Adriano lifted one shoulder in silent agreement. “I was rotating payment pickups because I thought the cash coming in was a little low. Not every payment fluctuates, you see. So when each one does fluctuate, and it’s the same guy every time doing the pickup for you or running the scheme, that tells you something. Keep an eye on that.”
“Yeah, I will for sure.”
Nobody needed a thief on their crew.
“How’s the crew otherwise?” Adriano asked.
“Quiet.”
Adriano cocked a brow like he didn’t entirely believe Tom. “That so?”
“They’re not giving me shit to my face anymore.”
“Just to your back, huh?”
Tom chuckled. “How did you know?”
“I had the same shit pulled on me when I was a young Capo. To be fair, I was even younger than you. That probably didn’t help my case, or anything, but yeah. I handled it. Theo handled it when he worked under his brother. Your father handed it when he worked under his father. Make them—”
“Respect me, I know.”
“Easier said than done, right?”
Tom shrugged. “I come from a different place than them, Adriano. They know it, and I know it. There’s no hiding from it. I sit where I do for an entirely different reason than why any of them are sitting where they are. None of them are willing to let me forget it.”
Adriano smirked. “Perhaps you should remember
not to let any of them forget that despite your last name and position, you’ve still earned your spot, Tommaso.”
“Dad likes to tell me—”
“Fuck your father.”
Tom stilled, and let out a cough. “Pardon?”
Adriano waved a hand. “Listen, sometimes I think the boss forgets what it was like to be a young Capo trying to gain some ground with ignorant fuckers in a crew. Especially a crew they didn’t build themselves, or a crew that was just thrown at their feet. He forgets that at one time, the Rossi name didn’t mean privilege, but a fucking stain he had to work twice as hard as everybody else to get rid of. A stain that far too many weren’t willing to let him forget he had to wear even when he did work ten times as hard as them to prove his worth.
“So yeah,” Adriano continued with a laugh, “Fuck your dad on this right here. You do what you have to do to get control of that crew, and make them get their shit together. Take a guess at what your father likes more than subservient men, Tommaso. Go on, guess.”
“Good business?”
“Money.”
Tom nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Make good money, and he’s not going to give two flying fucks how you’ve got the crew to do what you want. They’re foot soldiers, Tom. They’re replaceable. Sure, you vet them, and that takes a bit of time to make sure they’re not some Fed or cop weeding their way in, but still … a couple of foot soldiers is nothing at the end of the day in this business. Fodder to a bigger fire, that’s all.”
“There are some good ones in the crew.”
Adriano agreed. “There always are. Be mindful of those. As for the others … well, don’t let them cause you too much grief. Otherwise, like a pack of stray dogs, they’ll gang up on you when you’re not looking. You’re not a weak or stupid man, nipote. Never let them believe you are. Ever.”
Appreciation and gratitude filled Tom, but he shoved it down. Adriano was not the type of man who liked platitudes or other nonsense. When he gave advice, he simply intended for it to be put to use, and little else.
“And while we’re on the topic of your father,” Adriano said after a minute.
Tom relaxed in the chair. “What, now?”
“You need to go pay him a visit.”
“I will.”
He’d been over to see his mother and younger sisters since he got back from Chicago. His mother made him pork chops like promised. He had left the mansion before his father got home, though. He wasn’t in the mood to chat with Tommas, yet.
Tom was still a little sore on the gunrunning thing, after all.
“He might have mentioned to me that you’re avoiding him,” Adriano said.
“So?”
“Why?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because beyond business, he’s also your father, Tom.”
“Who doesn’t seem to want me to do the kind of business I want to do, Adriano.”
His uncle smiled faintly. “The gunrunning?”
“Did he tell you that, too?”
“No, I just know you. Let it go, Tommaso. You don’t have the time to be running the Outfit’s guns with Cross Donati, and handling this crew as the head Capo.”
Tom sucked air through his teeth as an idea filled his mind—one he wasn’t very pleased about. “Was that why the position was finally handed over to me when I got back from New York? Dad got the idea in his head I was going to come back heavy on the gunrunning thing, and figured out a way to keep me busy?”
Adriano just stared at him.
Tom didn’t look away, either.
“Well?” he asked. “Is that why?”
“You can handle this, and you were ready for it.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Adriano.”
“I’m not required to,” his uncle replied.
Because yes, that’s exactly what his father had done. It only pissed Tom off even more, and made him want to keep avoiding his father, if possible.
“I’ve let you know your father wants to see you,” Adriano said like he could read Tom’s mind, “and you know how this business goes.”
“Never shun a boss.”
It was a rule.
Adriano grabbed the stack of cash still sitting in the machine and said, “No, you never shun a boss, Tom, even when he’s your father.”
Fuck.
It took Tom another week before he finally went to see his father. Sara and Rebeka were showing off their new shoes and dresses when Tom strolled into the living room. Instantly, his little sisters might as well have been crawling up his damn legs.
“What do you think, Tom?” Sara asked, doing a spin to show off the dress.
“What’s it for?”
“Nothing special.”
“Mine’s got more sparkles!” Rebeka shouted.
Tommas laughed from the couch, and stood. “All right, girls. Go find Ma for a bit, and bug her to buy you something else.”
“Yes!”
His sisters darted into the hallway, and their shouts echoed back as they went in search of Abriella. She was probably hiding in her library again
“There’s leftovers in the kitchen,” his father said.
Tom shook his head. “Already ate.”
Tommas arched a brow. “Oh?”
“Stopped in to see Joe on the way over, and had dinner with him.”
“That’s why you were late?”
“Guess so.”
“Not because you’ve been avoiding me ever since you got back from New York a month ago.”
Tom smirked. “Do I have a reason to avoid you, Dad?”
“I don’t know—you tell me.”
Well, if his father wanted to go down that route …
“I know you had Adriano hand me over the crew to keep my attention busy, and off the gunrunning thing.”
Tommas nodded, unashamed. “And it’s worked, son.”
“No, I’m busy, but not dissuaded. It’s still on my to-do list.”
“I bet, however, it’s not an argument I want to have tonight.”
With a wave, Tommas headed out of the living room. Tom followed behind his father as the two navigated the large halls of the Trentini mansion. Soon, the two were inside Tommas’s office with the door shut behind them.
Once his father was seated behind his desk, Tom took a chair in front of it.
“How’s the crew, by the way?” Tommas asked.
“Busy.”
He knew that was the answer his father wanted, and he didn’t mind admitting it.
“It’ll be a good lesson for you, then.”
“How so?”
“Learning to delegate tasks, manage your time, and more. Being a Capo is not all sitting behind desks, idle hands, and throwing orders. Especially with a crew as difficult as Adriano’s seems to be.”
“Mine,” Tom said. “It’s my crew now, isn’t it?”
Tommas smiled. “My mistake. What about New York?”
“It was a good trip.”
“That so?”
“Yeah.”
He would much rather be back in New York at the moment, but that was a discussion for another day. Likely not one his father wanted to have, considering.
“So, nothing interesting happened while you were there?” his father asked.
Tom had the distinct feeling his father was reaching for information, but what, he didn’t entirely know. “Do you have something you want to ask me, or what?”
“I got a call, actually.”
“From who?”
“Calisto Donati.”
Ah.
There it was.
Tom rested back in the chair, and crossed his ankle over his knee. “What did he have to say?”
“Nothing, really. Just wanted to thank me for raising a decent son. Seems you went to him about his daughter despite the fact he doesn’t put constraints down on the young woman regarding dating.”
“What do you want to know, Dad?”
Tommas l
aughed, and his features relaxed from the previous sternness. “What made you seek him out—who she is, or something else?”
“Both. I know who she is, and I was interested in seeing her again. It’s the right thing to do. You taught me that.”
“Sure. Again, you said. You went out with her before you approached him?”
“Not exactly.”
His father’s brow raised, but he didn’t push Tom for more information. Not that he would have given it. The two kept business like that private.
“She’s why I stayed a little longer than first expected, actually,” Tom admitted. “She had a birthday, and I wasn’t ready to go at that point. Figured nobody would mind me staying a few extra days.”
“Except you did know I wanted you back home.”
Tom shrugged. “I still stayed, though.”
Across the desk, Tommas stilled in his chair, and pinned his son in place with knowing eyes. For a long while, his father said nothing, simply stared at him.
“What?” Tom asked when he’d finally had enough of the silence. “Just ask.”
“Are you still in contact with her?”
“Sort of.”
They texted, had a call or two, but nothing more. Camilla had yet to ask if Tom planned on coming back, and he didn’t even broach a similar topic. He didn’t know what she was doing on the dating side of things, and she didn’t ask him if he was busy with somebody else here.
Not that he was busy with someone.
His interest was still firmly tied up in Camilla Donati.
“Well?” his father asked.
Tom blinked, and realized he hadn’t heard a word his father said. “What?”
“That probably answers my question, then. I asked if you planned on seeing her again, or whatever.”
“Likely,” Tom said.
His father leaned back in the office chair, and steepled his fingers. “Would you consider it serious?”
Tom laughed darkly. “Not at all.”
“Yet, you just implied you intend to see the young woman again, and you’re still in contact.”
“Isn’t that what friends do?”
“Friends don’t typically get romantically involved, Tommaso.”
Fair enough.
“It’s complicated.”
