Barresi: Emily Trilogy: A New Orleans Mafia Romance

by Lux Miller

  Luca smiles and offers his hand to me, “Come, milady. Our evening awaits.” He turns back to the man and adds, “The only people who are to be allowed access will know the phrase ‘il lupo attende’.”

  I take his hand, and he pulls me up the stairs, chuckling as we step onto the balcony where a cool breeze blows through my hair. I sigh and shake my head. “What changed his attitude so fast?”

  Luca shrugs, avoiding the question. “Maybe he realized who he was dealing with?”

  I lean my elbows onto the railing of the balcony, and he presses against me from behind, caging me against the balcony by putting his hands on either side of me on the railing. He leans down and plants a trail of kisses along the back of my neck.

  “Luca, how many zeroes were on that check?”

  He shrugs and sighs softly into my ear, “Enough to make you want to hit me. I can afford it, Emily. Let me spoil you.”

  I let my eyes snap shut as he nibbles along my ear, but nod. “I’m sure your name being at the top of that check had nothing to do with it. You may be scary, but your name strikes fear in the heart of every living thing in New Orleans. Even the rats don’t dare mess with you.”

  He chuckles as a necklace lands at our feet. He squats down behind me and picks it up before laughing out loud. “What the hell? A necklace full of dicks? Why would anybody want a necklace with dicks on it?”

  I can’t help but giggle as I turn around to face him. He’s dropped the strand of offensive beads around his neck, and it’s taking everything in me not to straight up dissolve into a fit of laughter. “Luca, take those off…”

  He shakes his head. “I like them. Why should I take them off?”

  Sighing, I admonish him, “Because they threw them at me. It’s a crude way of suggesting ...things… it’s common on the streets. A man will give a pair of these to someone they want to suck their dick. If the target accepts the beads, then they’re agreeing to the act. It’s kind of an unspoken language of Mardi Gras.”

  Luca grunts and whips them off over his head. He’s about to lob them over the balcony when he gets a glint in his eyes. Even though the top half of his face is obscured by his mask, I still understand the desire that flickers in his eyes. He smirks and drops the strand of beads around my neck.

  I gasp, “Luca!”

  He shrugs, “I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask. You certainly don’t have to, but it’s a mental picture that’s invading my headspace right now. If not now, definitely later when I have you alone. I’m not going to lie… all I can picture right now is you on your knees with those gorgeous lips wrapped around my dick.”

  My eyes flutter closed as he presses himself against me. The railing of the balcony bites into my back as his dark stare makes me shiver. I nod, chewing on my bottom lip slightly as I pull the strand of beads off and drop them into one of his hands. “So let’s make a deal… if you can refrain from spending any more money tonight, then I’ll wear these beads for everyone to see and fulfill the promise that comes with accepting them...”

  THIRTEEN

  As the first float of the night rolls past us, our small balcony is bombarded by trinkets that clank on the wrought iron as they sail over our heads. Though we aren’t the only people to have purchased tickets to be on the balcony, by the time the parade reaches us, we’re the only ones still here. Apparently, when a man rents out a balcony with a check that has more zeroes on it than most people’s bank accounts, it makes people nervous.

  Despite the illusion of privacy, Luca hasn’t broken contact with me the entire time we’ve been up here. Sometimes his hand is on my hip, sometimes it’s on my arm, and other times his entire body is pressed against me. No matter what’s happening around us, he’s touching me at all times.

  Hot on the heels of the float is the flashy sparkle of sequins and glitter as a high school dance team prances by, hands twirling through the air as knee-high boots stomp the pavement. As a teen, the dance squads were always my favorite.

  Sure, the floats are enormous and boisterously loud, and at any given time, a dozen trinkets are flying off to spectators. But I was enamored with the dance teams, because I was jealous of them. I never got to go to high school. Truth be told, I’ve never been in a formal school setting at all.

  In Hawaii, there was no such thing as formal education for the native children. Sure, there were public schools, but they were overcrowded and underfunded, so the children in my neighborhood were educated by the village. We’d spend our mornings surfing until the swells died out, then we’d gather on the sand and practice our math and letters with whichever parent wasn’t busy with the harvest or tending to the animals.

  When most people think of Hawaii, they picture the white sand beaches of Waikiki and the towering high rises of Honolulu. The reality for me on the Big Island was far from glamorous. My mother’s family were farmers and artisans. Following my morning surf and my afternoon lessons, I’d help out in the fields with harvesting macadamia nuts, which are my favorite to this day. Once the sun went down, we’d gather together and share the dance of our ancestors including Hula Kahiko and the Tahitian Ori. It’s where my love of dance began.

  Most of the kids I grew up with likely ended up in the public high school as their needs surpassed the education of their own parents, but I never had that chance. When the cancer took my mom, my dad couldn’t bear to stay in the village where my mom died, so he packed us up and moved us back to his native New Orleans.

  He never bothered to declare my existence once we arrived in the land of Voodoo, and I never went to school, instead learning from library books that he’d bring home to me. He worked at night, and he kept the lights on, but he never told me where the money came from. On the night he died, he hid me in the cabinets and told me to stay silent, no matter what happened.

  I went straight from the two-room apartment on the outskirts of the French Quarter to living in Andre’s club. The beautiful costumes of the high school dancers represent a stage of life that I always regretted not getting to experience, and I find myself lost in thought as they sashay by, my gaze following them as they march down Saint Charles street.

  I’m so lost in thought that I’m almost smacked in the face by a Frisbee that whizzes by my ear as Luca hip-bumps me aside. It bounces off him, wobbling to a stop at our feet. I blush softly and chuckle, shaking my head. I motion weakly to the street. “Sorry, Luca… was caught up in watching the gorgeousness in front of me.”

  Luca grins and twists his body to press his lips against my neck, being careful not to disturb our masks. He trails his lips along my neck, and it sends a shiver down my spine. Luca lowers his voice, despite nobody being around us and whispers, “Trust me, I completely understand. I’m a bit mesmerized myself at the enchanting beauty that’s got me completely awestruck.”

  I turn to face him and look up, giving him a small smile. “You’ve really amped up the flattery lately. I’d argue that love looks good on you. Softens your sharp edges a bit without losing them.”

  Luca nods as he twists a finger into one of the curls that dangles beside my face. He’s staring at my lips like he wants nothing more than to kiss me, but as he leans in to do so, he jumps back from me with a grunt. He chuckles softly, then muses, “Apparently kissing during a parade is dangerous.”

  I giggle softly as he holds up a strand of deluxe beads in bright, alternating shades of green, purple, and gold. Every few beads is a tiny, naked, plastic baby. I tap one of the babies and smile, then take the strand from him. “These are good luck.”

  I smile and gently drop the beads around his neck, shifting them so that the babies sit upright and stare out from his chest. Luca shakes his head with a smile. “How do you know all this stuff? I’ve lived in New Orleans my entire life, and I don’t know any of this.”

  Shrugging, I turn my gaze back to the parade route and smile dreamily as a high school band marches by, the well-rehearsed music swelling up around the crowd and drowning out my racing thoughts. Going t
o a Mardi Gras parade with my boyfriend should be a mundane affair, not an event to set socialite tongues wagging.

  Yet, here I am. I’m dressed in a gown that rivals the finery afforded to movie starlets. I’m being fiercely protected by a gorgeous man that wears his ‘bad boy’ status on his sleeve. And when the parade is over and done, instead of going back to a seedy club to turn over the baubles I’ve stolen from the citizens of New Orleans, I’ll be attending an exclusive ball held in the presidential suite of a ritzy hotel owned, at least in part, by my boyfriend.

  Another trinket lands at my feet and I squat down carefully to pick it up, holding onto the railing with one hand as I twist my body so I don’t topple over because of my heels. I pick up the shiny beads, and my eyes widen immediately when they land on the resin pendant that dangles from the twisted strands. I stand up with Luca’s assistance and pull my mask off.

  He blinks at me in surprise, his entire body tensing as his hand automatically lands at his waist. I know he’s seconds from snatching his gun from his waistband. “Emily… what’s wrong?”

  Shaking my head, I knock his hands away from his waist. Thrusting the necklace into his outstretched hands, I murmur. “I need a purse.”

  Luca chuckles nervously as his shoulders slump slightly. He grabs my biceps gently. “Don’t startle me like that, Emily. I’m programmed to fight first and ask questions later. I thought we were in danger.”

  Blushing, I apologize profusely. “I… I’m sorry. I just, I’ve always wanted one of these.” I brush my fingers over the brightly colored purse medallion and look up at him to see him watching me intently.

  Luca shrugs. “So we’ll call Royce and have him make you one. Just give him specifics and I’m sure he can whip anything you dream up into existence. But I’m not buying it tonight… I have my eyes on a prize...” He gives me a playful smirk as his eyes flick to the offensive strand of dick beads he’s holding in his hand.

  I shake my head again. “While I appreciate the offer, you don’t understand. I didn’t know we were watching Nyx. They throw purses… highly coveted, hand-decorated masterpieces. I caught one once and I… I had to turn it over to Andre. It was worth a lot of money. Not because it was expensive, but because they’re so highly coveted. I suspect he hawked it to pay you.”

  Luca wrinkles his nose and pushes his mask up his face. His eyes meet mine, and I can feel my breath catch in my throat. The look he’s giving me right now says he would do anything for me at this moment. Thank God I’ve only asked for a purse that I know is obtainable from the floats.

  “Tell me how to make it happen for you, and I will make it happen.”

  I shrug both shoulders, because I don’t know. The one I caught as a teen was a fluke. Though I hid it from Andre for weeks, he found it eventually one night following an illicit encounter. He confiscated it, and I never saw it again. “They throw them off the floats. Some of the Krewes throw unique trinkets. The Muses throw shoes. Carrollton throws shrimp boots. Zulu throws coconuts. Nyx throws purses. Some are just kitschy and meant to be funny, but some are really, really pretty and they become collector’s items. They also cause fights on the parade route sometimes.”

  Luca tilts his head to the side as he looks at me. “They throw coconuts?”

  I can’t stop the snort that rushes out of my nose as I nearly double over in laughter. It takes me a minute to catch my breath, but when I right myself, I am nearly taken to my knees again as I’m wracked so deeply in laughter that I feel like I’m nearing stitches in my side. “Luca… all of that information and you zero in on the coconuts?”

  Luca shrugs and for the briefest of moments, an almost childlike innocence flashes across his face. It takes me by surprise to see the man that I’ve come to know as guarded with his walls down in genuine curiosity. I stop laughing and peer at him for a moment before brushing my hand along his cheek.

  “You should do that more often.”

  Luca raises an eyebrow and the walls return. He isn’t standoffish, but he’s clamped his control around the openness I saw just moments ago. “Do what?”

  I sigh and stand on my tiptoes, holding onto his shoulders for balance so I don’t fall over in the heels. I peck his lips in a chaste kiss, then stand up a bit taller, stretching so I can plant one on the tip of his nose. Luca narrows his eyes at me, and I shrug.

  I murmur as I wrap my arms around him and lay my head briefly against his chest, “Show your feelings. You claim to love me, but you’re always so restrained. Except when you’re buried inside of me, but that’s what I want to see more of - you letting your feelings show without all the worry about recourse.”

  Luca stiffens and grunts, but doesn’t push me away. “Emily, it isn’t that easy. Being buried inside of you lowers my inhibitions and that’s why, after that first night when I realized that I lose control around you, we’ve only ever had sex in the privacy of my home. Because I can’t maintain my composure when my mind reels with what you do to my body.

  “I know I’m not a good man, Emily. But there are times… in the middle of the night when you’re lying next to me and you’re sleeping after making love to me… those are the times when I want to be. I know I’ll never be good enough for you, but I hope that your love for me doesn’t corrupt you in the process. I want to rise to your level, not bring you down to mine.”

  I blink at him, completely caught off-guard by his unexpected confession on the balcony as beads and trinkets clang against the wrought-iron surrounding us. I swallow the lump in my throat and loop my arms around his neck. I thread my hands into his hair and twist the dark locks around my fingers, tugging him down to me.

  His lips crash into mine with a groan from both us, but I end the kiss quicker than I want to as I gasp to catch my breath. “Luca… I meant it when I said I’m in love with you. I don’t love your parts, I love you… all of you, including the darkness and the things you think I don’t know about.

  “I knew who you were when I gave you my heart, Lucario… I’m not living in a fairytale where the handsome prince sweeps the commoner off her feet and makes her a princess. My prince isn’t going to ride off into the sunset with me on the back of a white horse, and I’m okay with that.”

  Luca groans softly as I press my body against his and whisper, “My prince carries a .38 and spills his blood to protect those he loves. He’s more likely to spout Italian curse words than poems. He wears linen in the summer, because he’s fucking crazy, and he has a cold heart that some say is made of ice.”

  He’s stiff as he keeps his eyes closed and listens silently to what I’m saying. “But Luca… one thing you fail to remember. I spent ten years on the streets, and I have secrets and skeletons of my own. You’ve put me so high on a pedestal that I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed when I fall off, because nobody can be as perfect as you seem to think I am.”

  Luca opens his mouth to undoubtedly argue when I hear the door to the balcony creak open. Luca growls as he turns to the door, and he’s like a starved dog ready to pounce on unsuspecting prey. Except when the figure that stands in shadows inside the door steps forward, the air in Luca’s sails whooshes out, and his shoulders slump.

  “Dante… what are you doing here? I thought you were keeping watch from the streets?”

  Dante nods curtly, then looks up at Luca with a serious expression that I’ve only seen on Dante’s face a couple times before. Their eyes meet and Luca’s entire body tenses. He untangles himself from me and lowers his voice, probably out of habit, “Dante… what’s happened?”

  Dante sighs, his piercing green eyes focused on me as he speaks to Luca. It makes me shiver, and I have no idea why he’s staring at me. He clears his throat and continues, “Another girl. Same MO. We’ve got rock solid alibis, but that’s not the concern.”

  Luca grunts and tugs me closer, his arm around me painfully tight. “Was there a card with her?”

  Dante nods and hands over a plastic baggie with a playing card tucked inside. I k
now I should avert my eyes and try to pretend like I can’t hear what’s going on, but curiosity bubbles up to the surface, and I chance a glance at the card. There’s blood on it, but it’s clear to see that it’s a Queen of Spades. Luca exhales heavily and looks at Dante, “That’s three… and the only one missing from the set is…”

  Dante bows his head, acknowledging what Luca is about to say before he says it. Together, their voices murmur, “The Queen of Hearts.”

  Luca foot taps nervously against the balcony, “Have you made any connection between the three of them?”

  Dante’s gaze flicks to me again, and now there is a knot of dread twisting inside my gut. His voice strains as he replies to Luca, “Aside from the cars, it’s circumstantial at best. I lifted those from the scenes before NOPD arrived, so they won’t be exploring that angle. But they all had drugs in their system. Some kind of designer mixture. Can’t be for sure what it is exactly, but we’ve got guys working on that… NOPD’s got their Vice guys on it too.”