The Power of a Woman: A Mafia Erotic Romance

by Gina Whitney

  “Jordana?” My brother’s harsh voice snapped my attention like a whip.

  “I’m not sure I follow. Stefan isn’t my boyfriend.” That hadn’t been a lie. We’d never discussed labels or what to call each other. I was his, and as far as I was concerned, he was mine. But Matty didn’t need to know the logistics of it.

  He laughed and rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat. “For the same reasons you won’t tell me what you know, I won’t tell you what I know. But don’t underestimate me. Don’t for one second think I am an ignorant kid that has no clue what goes on around me.”

  Giving in, refusing to continue our sticky conversation, I said, “I’m not going to apologize for Stefan. He saved your life and our family. You have good reason to be scared, too. You’re a fucking idiot. Maybe take some of that fear and use it to keep yourself straight. Can’t you be like a regular kid? Join football or basketball to earn your letterman’s jacket and stay the fuck out of the casinos. Stick to chasing girls your age. Can you do that? Be a normal kid your age?” I exhaled loudly. God damn, I needed alcohol.

  He laughed sarcastically. “We grew up in a house where our father cleans his gun at the dinner table, Jordana. We’ve lived our whole lives with soldiers fucking following us with guns in their waistbands, while others are making sure we make it to our cars safely. This is our normal…or haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  “We don’t choose our family, Matty. There’s no goddamn handbook for this. This isn’t some cautionary fairy tale. It’s motherfucking reality. We just live it and try to survive it. Doesn’t mean we can’t be as normal as possible. Doesn’t mean we can’t have the same things as normal people. It’s all in what you make of it. If you want to focus on the business end of it all, then so be it. But that’ll only get you killed.” I broke eye contact, ending the conversation and waved over Gio, the maître d’.

  “Ciao. Si Può mettere una corsa sul nostro cibo. Siamo affamate Gio. Grazie,” I said, asking if we could have a rush on our food because we were starved. I was hungry, but that wasn’t the reason I had in mind for the hurry.

  Gio had dark olive skin, and his intense eyes appeared blacker in the dim lighting. He was a thin, older man—loyal and from the old country. His maître d’ skills were legendary, and he prided himself on taking care of his customers. It was a given that he was well compensated for it.

  “Ma certamente. Vedrò di me stesso. Le vostre bevande stanno arrivando finita. Le mie scuse signorina Albanese.” Oh, good…our drinks were on the way. His voice was terse, despite his smile. There was a mutual respect for who I was and the family I belonged to. However, Matty’s actions carried some ill weight, and certain people weren’t happy about the resolution of his debt.

  The door swung open and a gust of familiar cologne hit me square between the thighs. I didn’t have to look to see who’d walked in. My body already knew and my skin puckered clear down to my toes. Stefan. He walked in with his father and two of his capos. The girl in me wanted to run to him. However, the good Mafia princess knew it wasn’t possible. A female has to wait to be called over or be approached, but considering our families, I knew neither would happen. His father hated mine. His entire family hated mine. They’d deemed us backstabbing pricks after Stefan’s older brother had been hit. It was a tragedy, one felt within my own family, but that didn’t matter. Mick pointed his meaty finger at my father, and that was the end of it.

  “You want me to go over there, J?” My brother’s tone comforted me. However, this was another impossibility. After the shit he just pulled, the last gesture warranted would be him approaching that table. They’d see it as him rubbing their noses in it, which was beyond disrespectful.

  “Yeah right! Why don’t you go over there and throw your balls up on the table. That way, it’ll be nice and easy for Mick to remove them, jackass. No…we wait. If they want to talk, they’ll have someone come and get you.”

  Thankfully, our meals were brought over and placed on the table, but not before I stole another glimpse at Stefan. His eyes were on his father and his hands folded over the table. Business. Did he not know I was here? I sighed loudly while plating some mozzarella en carozza.

  “I’m just going to be honest here,” Matty said while stuffing a forkful of calamari in his mouth.

  “Don’t hurt yourself, little brother.”

  He smirked mid-chew. “Of all the men pining for you over the years…and you chose him? I mean…you’ve got some pair of balls. And yet you have the nerve to lecture me? You’ll never have Daddy’s blessing, or anyone else’s for that matter. If either family catches you two together, it’ll be war, and you know it. You’re wasting your time, J.” His negative words crawled along my skin like a heated rash and I wanted to punch his face in.

  I placed my fork down abruptly. “Are you sure we’re related? Because you’re one stupid fuck. I’m actually afraid for you right now. Your stupidity is going to get your ass kicked, at the very least…and at the very worst, killed. He saved your fucking life, asshole. Now you want to get all politically correct with the families? Mind your own fucking business. It’s plain English. You do have a grasp on that language, right?” I said, grabbing my martini.

  “I’m just sayin’,” he said, throwing his linen napkin on the table in a huff.

  I shoved my finger in front of his face to make my point. “Well ‘just sayin’ gets people whacked. Just sayin’…” I held a tight sarcastic smile in place, boring my eyes into his. Christ, this kid was either naïve or just plain stupid.

  “Hey, I spy my best friend, and by the looks of it, she needs a night out,” someone said, approaching our table. Oh, thank fuck. Laura—my only friend in the world. I could use some girl-therapy right now. Laura was not only my best friend, but we were also first cousins on my father’s side. She was family, but more like a sister. “Move over, shit for brains.” She gestured to Matty as she scooted into the bench seat across from me. I laughed. Matty did not. He often got shit from me, but when it was Laura and me…we were a professional tag-team with one goal in mind—fucking with Matty.

  Movement across the room caught my attention, pulling my eyes in that direction. My gaze caught on Stefan, catching him glancing my way before turning back to his father. Just the sight of him caused my heart to speed up and my thighs to clench. It was nearly impossible to look away from his smoldering good looks. It appeared he’d gotten a hair cut since the last time I’d seen him, which had only been two days and way too long. It was perfectly styled to the side with his special pomade. Stefan never used gel or hairspray. His hair never seemed greasy or slick like some of the other guys that ran in the families. And even in a pair of dark jeans and a button-down shirt, he had an air of importance around him. Such a businessman. Always in control of everything—including his appearance.

  Laura leaned across the table to whisper, “Why are you gawking at the Giannotti table?”

  That caught my attention, and I snapped my gaze back to my cousin, catching my brother snicker at her side.

  “You don’t want to know,” Matty said before I had the chance to answer.

  She moved her eyes between Matteo and me, quirking her lips to the side. “Ah, I know what’s going on here…this is about the Guido-wannabe over here getting stuck up shit’s creek without a paddle, isn’t it? By the way, how the fuck did you get out of that one? I was for sure I’d have to pull out my black dress from the closet and kiss the top of your closed casket.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. No one could know about my relationship with Stefan, and the fact that Matty knew bothered me. I loved my cousin, and trusted her wholeheartedly. However, Stefan was a Giannotti, and with that name came the need to keep my mouth closed…unless it was full of his cock. In that case, I had to keep my mouth puckered. Just the thought caused me to snicker, catching the attention of the bickering cousins in front of me.

  God bless the deaf and dumb…

  “Please let me out,” Matty groaned, shovin
g against Laura’s shoulder. “I’ve lost my appetite and I’m so done with you two. It’s too much to fucking take. I need to go.”

  Laura looked at me, seeking approval before moving out of the seat to let him pass. I nodded in agreement, not having a clue as to what they’d been fighting about while I was lost in thoughts of sucking Stefan’s dick.

  “I’m sure the love-sick Sia will wrap your food up to go.” I lifted my eyebrow at him, silently daring him to argue with me.

  He got out of the seat and opened his wallet. “I’ll pay the bill up front.”

  I held up my hand, stopping him while Laura took her seat again. “I’ve got this. No worries. Just go straight home. Please.”

  He grunted something incoherently and walked toward the kitchen, which was to the right of Stefan’s table. I couldn’t help but watch from the edge of my seat. It could go one of two ways, and both were dangerous.

  A loud screech of a chair scraping against the wooden floor quieted the entire room. Laura and I held our breath as Stefan rose, neither needing to voice the concern we both felt. The rest of the table remained seated, all eyes on the two sons. Christ, don’t you fucking smile, Matty. Don’t you fucking smile. Stefan stared him down, but all Matty did was nod and keep walking. Matty was naïve enough to have shaken everyone’s hand and pull up a chair, so the fact that he didn’t was surprising to say the least. Yes, he knew how family worked. However, he thought his charm outweighed protocol.

  I didn’t realize I’d grabbed Laura’s hand in a death-lock until she attempted to pry mine away. “You can let go now. Fuck,” she said in a pained whisper. Once I released her hand, she shook it out and stretched her fingers. Over-exaggerating bitch. “You’ve got the strength of a Titan, you fucking nut-job.”

  “Men never complain,” I muttered, my eyes lingering on the table by the kitchen.

  Laura smacked the table, breaking the apprehensive trance I was in.

  Catching the glint in her eye, I let out the first real laugh in a while, allowing it to echo around me. “Anxiety and alcohol makes me strong.”

  She smiled, still rubbing her hand. “Yeah, I can see that. Keep your paws to yourself please. I’ve got small, dainty hands. It would be a fucking crime if you did any kind of real damage. Another five seconds and I could do a rheumatoid arthritis commercial legit.” She continued to rub her hand and I laughed, to which Stefan turned to look at our table, locking eyes with me for the first time. His gorgeous face and intense stare melted me in my seat. All I was gifted with was a wink before he returned his attention back to his guests.

  Laura cleared her throat and narrowed her eyes on me. “Since when does Stefan Giannotti wink? What does that mean?”

  “Dunno. I think it was just a hello wink,” I answered nonchalantly. However, she didn’t know the extent of our relationship. Of course, it was more… It was the kind of wink that said, “I see you, Tesoro, and I love hearing your laugh, but finish your food and go home so I don’t have to worry.” But I couldn’t tell her that, nor did I think she’d believe I could read that much into the smallest gesture. Not to mention, had I told her about our relationship…she’d probably shit herself. And then have me committed.

  “Whatever you say. Okay, so the real reason I tracked you down is…my favorite DJ is playing at Vertigo tonight, and I’m here to drag your ass with me.” She bit her lip in anticipation of my answer.

  I didn’t go out very often. We weren’t allowed to go to clubs with the amount of Mafia influence that came with each venue. In order to have a fun night out, I had to travel to other towns, hoping no one would recognize us, or our affiliation. However, Vertigo was a local, very high-end club. There was no way we could go and not have everyone identify we were there. Which totally sucked! What made things worse was every time I’d been busted, it had been with my cousin. It was good and bad. Good—I was with family. Bad—I’d disobeyed my father and didn’t have proper protection around us. But, protection equaled being a wallflower. Lame. Was this night a good night to press our luck? Most definitely not, but I had an itch to dance and let loose some of the steam that was bottled up. Daddy kept my leash rather short. Fuck that. It was time I did something for myself.

  I am woman, hear me roar…and all that jazz.

  I finished my martini in one gulp, nearly choking from the burn. “I’m in.”

  She clapped loudly. “Yes! This is going to be kickass, and we both need it.”

  “Amen to that. But relax before you have a Laura-gasm,” I said picking up my fork. “We’ll need to fuel up and eat so we don’t get sick.” I shoved a plate in front of her face just as my phone started to vibrate. I pulled it out of my bag and checked it under the table. It was a message from Stefan.

  Gorgeous girl of mine, you best be getting that ass home.

  I didn’t answer right away, but placed it next to me while I thought of my response.

  “If that’s the flavor of the week, just invite him. I don’t mind, Dana,” she said with a mouthful of food, using her nickname for me that she’d come up with when we were kids. She’d known about my experimenting with men. However, she had no clue that I’d stopped and settled down with one particular person. I just never corrected her when she’d refer to my “flavor or the week.”

  “No, he won’t come. It’s just sex…you know I never actually go out in public with these men.” I chewed on that half-truth for a moment. Fuck that shit. I was going out. Even if it was just for an hour. I needed this.

  I picked up my phone to respond. Hi! I’m hanging with Laura for a while. Catching up on girl stuff and family. I’ll text you later. Enjoy your night.

  I stuffed a piece of bread in my mouth and waved to the maître d’ for the bill.

  Gio walked over hurriedly with his usual tight smile. “Si?”

  “Gio, sono pronto per il controllo,” I said, asking for the check.

  “Il controllo si è preso cura di.” He gestured with his chin to Stefan’s table, letting me know it’d already been taken care of. I looked over at him and his father’s eyes held mine for a second. They weren’t cold per se, but they certainly didn’t hold affection, either. It sent chills down my back…and not the kind Stefan offers.

  “Grazie.” I returned my attention back to Gio. He spun and headed back to whatever shadows he lurked in. I caught Laura’s eyes and asked, “Ready?”

  “Fucking born ready, babe.”

  We stood and headed for the door, but not before I turned back to Stefan, throwing him a wink over my shoulder. His dark, penetrating stare told me he understood the meaning. And it wasn’t the kind of wink to say “I’m heading home,” either.

  My phone started to buzz in my hand the moment the door closed behind me, but I ignored it, not wanting Stefan to ruin my time with Laura. I slipped my cell into my back pocket and followed her lead, heading straight for her sick ass car. Her father gave her everything she wanted, including the chromed-out Lambo. We laughed our asses off over how many times the suicide doors nearly decapitated one of us. Not a hot look when pulling up to a venue. It didn’t really bother me, though, considering that’s about all she got when it came to family. With my hands in my family’s legitimate businesses, I had far more responsibility than she did. But she didn’t seem to mind. I think Laura preferred to be left out of it all, wanting to be the Mafia princess she was and sit back with her crown. She could have it.

  By the time we made it to the club, there was already a line around the building, people waiting in crowds to get in. I rolled my eyes at the sight, knowing without having to question it what my cousin planned to do. All she had to do was walk in front of everyone and the bouncers would lift the red rope, letting us in without a word. I used to love it when we were younger, but as I got older, I kind of grew tired of the quest to be pampered—except when it came to Stefan. I wanted to stand on my own, knowing we only got away with things because of who our fathers were. It was typical. However, it was not what I yearned for anymore. What wou
ld make me happy is if I’d gone to the front of the line, and was granted entrance because of my name. Because of who I was and not my family. But that would never happen. Because in this life…men wore the pants, women only ironed them. Fuck them. And their irons.

  Yet, that still didn’t stop me from walking through the doors when the rope was lifted. It didn’t stop me from accepting premium table service and drinks. And it certainly didn’t stop me from taking advantage of the space on the dance floor that was provided by people shifting their bodies out of our way.

  Drink after drink, song after song, we danced until our limbs were numb and screamed until our voices went hoarse, soaking in the atmosphere and air around us. At one point, I’d taken a tumble, clearly having consumed one too many drinks. My ankle torqued, but I kept myself upright and went gracefully into another move. I could feel my foot swell in my heel, but I didn’t care. The alcohol numbed my pain and let my inhibitions soar. Nothing would hold me down tonight. It was my night of freedom. My night of letting loose without a care in the world.

  “You’re limping. Are you all right?” Laura asked as we shuffled off to the bathroom for a break, sweat dripping down my face and rolling between my tits. Ugh. She glanced down and noticed the swelling. “Oh my God, Dana. Your foot! Why didn’t you tell me you were in pain?”

  I grabbed onto her shoulders for balance, not trusting my one and a half feet to hold me up. Fucking Louboutins. Six-motherfucking-inches of death. Attempting to focus on her eyes, I said, “Because I’m a total badass. Fuck football players. I can do two-a-days in these red-bottomed shoes legit. Watch me tough this shit.” I let go of her and walked into an open stall.

  Walk…more like stumbled, limped, and shuffled my way in. But I didn’t care. All that mattered was that I made it. On my own. I’m one badass tough motherfucker. I smirked to myself as I locked the door behind me. I pulled my tight black pants down and fell to the toilet seat, hearing something fall to the tile at my feet. I looked down and found my phone, the green light in the corner blinking up at me.