Dirty Dom: Valetti Crime Family (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance)

by Willow Winters

  I start walking along the forest line looking over the soccer fields. A whistle blows loud through the air and practically scratches my ear drum like nails on a chalkboard. I wince and rub my temples. Jax is at the very last field. Fuck these heels. I feel like a damn moron walking in heels on grass. I nearly topple over pulling one off, but the second is easier. I shake out my fears and anxiety; no one knows.

  My heart clenches in pain once again. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. I can’t say I never fantasized about being taken like that. Ruthlessly. Being devoured by a man consumed with lust. My cheeks heat with a violent blush. I need to get my shit together. I can’t let these bitches smell any blood in the water.

  “You’re late Becca,” Cynthia says with a sing song voice, but there’s disdain ringing on the end. I hope she’s fucking burning up in that strawberry tweed Chanel shirt suit. Her blonde hair is in a perfect bun showing off her too fucking large diamond earrings. She’s the picture perfect housewife. A twig who doesn’t even finish all of her salad and knows exactly how everything is supposed to be done and doesn’t mind chiming in to correct. Yeah, she’s what Rick thought he was getting when he married me. Fuck her.

  My eyes drop to her heels. All the moms are wearing heels even though they’re digging slightly into the dirt. I don’t know how they don’t fall down on their asses. I tossed my pumps into my bag and I’m walking bare foot. As I come up next to them their lips turn down in a frown. Zero fucks given.

  “I had an errand to run. How are our boys doing?” I give her the same fake smile she’s giving me before turning to face the field.

  “They really need to step up their defense. How is Marshal ever going to score when the defense is this poor?”

  They’re three years old for fuck’s sake. I don’t even try to hide my eye roll; not that she would see anyway since she’s now texting away on her phone.

  I spot Jax running after a boy who’s kicking the ball. I pray to God he doesn’t just push the kid over and pick up the ball with his hands. Rick and I decided it would be good to get him in sports early. One sport, one language, one instrument. But for fuck’s sake he’s only three. I am glad I got him into sports to work off some of that excess energy, but these people drive me up the damn wall. I didn’t come from Daddy’s money. I worked hard to get my restaurant up and running. I put everything I had in me into this industry. It took 10 years to get to this point and at 31 I’m the proud owner of an award winning Italian Bistro.

  Jax kicks the ball, thankfully misses the kid, and runs down the field. “Go Jax!” I can’t help screaming and hopping up and down on the balls of my feet. My voice gets the attention of the other moms. I see them smirk and look at each other from the corner of my eye, but I learned to ignore it early on. Mommy play groups are cut throat in this social group. I know they talk shit about me. That they defended Rick cheating on me because I work too much and didn’t make enough one on one time for the two of us. But they’d be fucking stupid to say the shit to my face.

  The thought of Rick hits me hard. My chest hurts and my heart twists in agony. He may have been an asshole of a husband who was going to try to get every cent from me that he could, and try to take my baby away from me, but he was also the father of my baby boy. I smile weakly watching Jax in his little black and blue striped jersey. Number 3 because that was Daddy’s number. Tears well in my eyes and my throat closes as a bastard lump forms. I shake my head and try to think about happy times.

  My eyes pop open wide and my thighs clench. Thoughts of the bookie rutting into me like he fucking owned me makes my heart race and my blood heat. The image of his corded muscles pinning me to the wall, the masculine smell in the hot air, the sounds of him fucking me, they flood my senses. I shift my weight and try to cool down, feeling much hotter than I did a moment ago. I am extremely aware of the fact that I am no longer wearing any panties. I was in such a fucking rush to get out of there, I left them wherever they fell to. My forehead pinches as I try to recollect what happened to them.

  A shudder runs through my body. He ripped them off of me. That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever done. But with him? With a stranger? A criminal? I don’t even fucking know his name. Shame washes over me and that damn lump returns. I never lusted after a man. Never. School and work that’s what mattered. I married a nice man when I finally had life all worked out. Had a baby at 27. I did everything the way my parents would have wanted. My blood turns to ice and I look down at my feet wondering if they’d be ashamed of me now. Now that my husband left me and I’ve fallen to a new level of filth I’d never thought I’d reach.

  For fuck’s sake, I let him cum in me. I cringe but my treacherous pussy clenches. I have to repress a moan remembering how good it felt. My lips purse as I pull out my phone and text Sarah. She’s out getting dinner for Jax and me so I can be here to watch his game.

  Plan B ASAP please.

  I never thought I’d be texting my PA to pick up the morning after pill. But hell, in the last few months we’ve grown close. I imagine we’re as close as sisters would be, but I wouldn’t know. I haven’t had any family since my parents passed a few years ago. Just after I found out I was pregnant. Tears well in my eyes. I was picking out a cute little mug for my mom to tell her. It was going to have the ultrasound on it. I wipe my burning eyes and try to return my focus to my little man on the field, but all I can see in my head is a picture of that damn mug. Grandmom in April. She would’ve been so happy. I told everyone we were trying. The moment we got married, I wanted to be pregnant. In hind sight I should not have done that. Cause then everyone asks you, “are you pregnant yet?” It took a little longer than I’d hoped. But stress will do that. And when you work the hours I used to work, well, it’s fucking stressful. That’s why I got Sarah. That’s why I cut back and hired more help. It was the best thing for me and then for my little man too.

  It was supposed to be the best thing for my marriage. But I don’t think anything would’ve helped us survive. Once a cheater always a cheater. I’m too fucking forgiving. I never should’ve believed him. Never should’ve married that sweet talking liar. But I wanted a baby. I wanted the whole package, the perfect life.

  I didn’t want a cheating ass husband who blew his business in a shit deal, wanted control of my business, and then gambled away nearly everything I had. Thank fuck I grabbed a hold of my self respect and started putting my foot down. Even better that when I started feeling he was messing around that I confronted it head on. There are givers and takers in this world. I’m a giver, always have been. I know the givers have to set the limits, because the takers have none. Unfortunately, I’ve learned from experience. From my shit husband. I loosen my clenched fists as the news of his death hits me again.

  I feel like such a bitch for being angry at him. He’s dead. He put me through hell and back, but he’s not here for me to be mad at any more. I’m so confused by my emotions. Six months ago, he let his business be torn to shreds and sold off, then blew that money on a shit deal. Two months ago I caught him in bed with another woman. Literally with her legs wrapped around his hips and her heels digging into his ass as he was fucking her. On our bed. Since then he’d been trying to get every penny of mine and hired the best lawyers he could to try to get full custody, with my fucking money. But a week ago he dropped dead of a heart attack. Out of no where. Left me with a shit ton of debt and a mess to clean up. I feel like a bitch for hating him in the end, for being relieved that this divorce and custody battle are no longer an issue, but most of all for not being more upset with him dying. I literally wished he would die. I was hoping that fucker would drop dead. And he did. How fucking horrible am I that I’m not more upset? That I don’t have more regrets?

  Some days I hate myself.

  And then I miss him. I see something, like a commercial for a restaurant we used to go to and it hits me hard. The tears come on before I can hold them back and I miss the old Rick. And then I hate myself for missing him. Maybe I’ve just
turned into a hateful person.

  Everything in the last year has gone to shit, but not Jax; he’s perfect. I keep going just for him. He’s my everything. As I watch him stumble on the grass and fall, I swear I see a movement to my left. A dark figure behind the trees. A cold shiver runs through my body as I jolt and stare into the trees. But I don’t see anything. My body tingles with anxiety as my heart tries to beat out of my chest. I swallow thickly and turn back to the field.

  There’s no one there. I close my eyes and open them when I hear the women to my right clapping and cheering. One of the boys somehow managed to actually score a goal. I clap and yell and smile at my son who’s furiously waving at me. But somewhere deep inside me, fear settles.

  I’m certain I saw something. Or someone.

  I force a smile for my son and keep my feet planted where they are, but I can’t wait to get out of here, I need to shake this feeling.

  Dom

  “You’re late Dom!” My mom’s high pitched voice hits me with a touch of humor as she flicks the kitchen hand towel at me. “You’re lucky I’m running behind.” Ma always runs behind. Maybe it’s in our genes. The kitchen smells like her sauce and meatballs.

  “Sorry Ma,” I give her a kiss on the cheek as I pull the flowers in my hand around to the front, “got you a gift though.”

  She pats my cheek with her hand and smiles, “aw, you spoil me!”

  “Dante! Why do you never get me any flowers! You should take notes from your son!” She screams past me to the dining hall and I all out grin. I love it when she does this shit. Calling my dad out in front of everyone. I chuckle as I walk to the dining room and see the family gathered around the table.

  My dad made sure to build this house with a large enough dining hall for everyone. There’s at least twenty people in here. And it feels comfortable, it feels like home. I may not like everything about being a Valetti, but I fucking love Sunday night dinner.

  “Pops,” I slap my hand on father’s shoulder, “looking good tonight.” Pops is getting old, but he still looks good. He’s got dark eyes, dark hair that’s greyed at the temples. I have his high cheek bones and sharp jaw line. He looks exactly like a mafia boss. And that’s good, cause that’s exactly who he is. I sit at his right across from my brother.

  “What up Dom?” Vince is two years younger, making him 27. My chest pains remembering the dead fuck in my office was four years younger than my brother. Marco Whatever-the-fuck his last name was. My jaw clenches tight, knowing I gotta tell them what happened. Not here though, not at dinner. Ma doesn’t approve of that shit.

  “What the hell did I do to you?” Vince looks back at me like I slapped him.

  I shake my head, “Not you. I got to talk to you guys later.” The room goes quiet as I reach for some butter for the roll that’s on my plate. I don’t wait till dinner’s served. Never have. Everyone else waits, but Ma doesn’t mind if I get started without her. I don’t know why Ma bothers with the rolls. I’m the only one who eats them. Everyone else waits for the garlic bread.

  “What’s going on Dom, everything alright?” Jack asks. Jack is like a second father to me. He’s just under my father in the business, or family, whatever you want to call it.

  “Not at the table.” My mom bends down with a hot bowl of meatballs and places it in the center of the table.

  I throw her an asymmetric grin, “aw Ma, you know I wouldn’t.” I take a bite of my roll and lean back in my chair, trying to lighten the mood for my mother. “I love the smell of your sauce Ma.”

  She smiles at me and seems to forget the the cloud of tension still lingering in the room.

  Jack is sitting next to my brother with his wife, but his eyes are on my father. The two have their eyes locked on one another like they’re having a silent conversation. I try to stay out of family business. Pops told me I’d take the lead one day, but I passed it up to Vince. He’s got the brains and the stomach to handle this shit. I’m more of a numbers guy. I help out with the books, but I like my side business I have going on. It’s fun. … Well, most of the time.

  Jack’s wife, Jessica, gives me a tight smile from across the table. She’s new. Jack divorced his wife and then she disappeared. He wasn’t right for a while. We all knew what happened. She got pissed one day, he didn’t keep his dick in his pants. Like he fucking should. And she went blabbing about the wrong shit to the wrong people. The thought makes me want to put my roll down, but I don’t. After all these years, I’ve toughened up some. Jessica’s only been a part of the life for a little under a year. The women stay out of the business at all times. That’s our rule. It prevents the shit that happened with Jack’s ex from going down. Yet another reason Jack blames himself. She should’ve known though. What did she really think was going to happen?

  Sitting around the table are more people in the family. Tommy and Anthony are good friends of mine, also my cousins, and also in the family. They’re a year older and a year younger than me respectively. Although they’re brothers they look nothing alike. Tommy’s a wall of muscle. His fucking muscles have muscles. I’d be shocked if he didn’t take steroids. I hope he doesn’t cause that shit will shrink up your dick. He’s a fucking hot head like my Uncle Enzo, so it’s hard to say if it’s from roids or just genetic. The younger one, looks scrawny next to his brother, but he’s lean and works out to keep himself in shape. His eyes are darker. Almost black. Anthony is a sick fuck. Tommy might be the muscle, but when we need to get information from someone, we turn to Anthony. Put him in a room with anyone, I don’t care who it is, he’ll get what he wants from you.

  Two seats down from them is Uncle Enzo, he owns the bistro and the club. If someone’s trying to meet my father, they have to go through my uncle. He’s leaning over telling Jack something that I’d wager is a dirty joke if his tone and hand gestured are anything to go by. A second later, that half of the table is laughing up a storm and my father’s yelling out with a grin. There are few others around the table, Paulie, Joe and a few other guys I know. I don’t hang out with them really. I do the books like Pop says and I keep my nose clean.

  Pops wasn’t fond of me being a bookie at first. He said it’s not good to do shit that could bring heat around the family. But when I started making contacts, like my vet friend, he changed his mind. I know he’s still proud of me even if I’m not looking to take over his empire. I’m not who he thought I’d be, but I’m still family and still worthy of being part of this particular family.

  My Ma takes a seat at the other head and smacks Uncle Enzo over the head. “Hey!” he yells out and rubs the back of his head as everyone gets a good laugh in. Tony’s on my right, the nerd of the group and also a life long friend. He gets the intel that we need. And that reminds me of my girl. My hands itch wanting to feel her lush ass again and my dick jumps in my pants. I slip off my jacket and drape it over the back of the chair as Johnny walks in.

  He takes a seat next to my sister, Clara. I’ve been noticing that lately. Not sure I like it. They’ve been friends for a while, but they seem different lately. The only people missing are my cousin Jimmy and his little boy Gino. Gino’s a hoot. His mom’s a bitch and is lucky she’s alive, to be honest. Not that I’d ever do anything to the kid’s mother, but still, she’s lucky.

  The bowls are going around the table. I close my eyes and breathe in deep. It smells like home. With the laughter and loud voices of my uncle and father talking over one another, it sounds like home.

  And then my Ma opens her mouth and ruins it, “Dom, when are you going to bring home a nice girl for dinner?” The room goes silent except for a few chuckles from my uncle and Jack.

  “Come on Ma, why don’t you pick on Vince for a while?”

  “Cause he’s my baby,” and shoots him a smile and he snorts a laugh in return, but I can tell he’s embarrassed too. Good, if she’s gonna go after me, she should be digging at him too.

  “Ma, as soon as I find a keeper I’ll bring her home, alright?” As soon as the wo
rds come out of my mouth, my beautiful doll pops into mind. She’s got something about her I think my Ma would like. Innocent yet confident, I can’t tell exactly what it is.

  Ma starts to respond with one brow cocked, but I’m saved by little Gino, “Mammie!” The little tyke squeals as he runs in with his little knit hat and thick jacket that bubbles around him. How can he even move in that thing?

  “Gino, bambino!” My Ma loves that little man.

  I grin at Jimmy and nod my head as he walks around the table to take a seat. He’s a good looking guy, tall broad shoulders, pretty boy face. “Dom, who am I betting on this week?” I chuckle at him and shake my head.

  “You read that book I gave you?” I ask knowing he didn’t.

  He snorts and looks at me like I’m crazy. “Fuck no.”

  “Then my guess is that you’ll be betting like all the rest of em’.”

  The room laughs and I just sit back in my seat until the meatballs come my way. Ma fries them and covers them with her sauce. They’re so good, but so fucking bad for you.

  “C’mon Dom, give me something.”

  “Don’t ever bet against me.” I answer as I pile up the meatballs. “There’s something for you Jimmy. You wanna win bets, you stay on my side.”

  “Dude, just tell me this, New York or Dallas over/under 45.5?” I shake my head at this fool.

  “Giants, over.” I lick my lips and slice my meatball, “how’s construction going?”

  “It’s alright. Same old, same old. Wish I had a fun job, like you.” It’s important that we have someone in the construction business. Now that we have the vet, it’s not quite as important, but it’s still good for book keeping and all.

  “It wasn’t fun today.” Johnny shakes his head and grabs another piece of garlic bread.