My Dirty Detour: An Alpha Male Mafia Comedy Romance

by Grace Risata

  He started kissing my neck while he moved his hands lower to rub my shoulders. He turned me halfway back around and pressed me up against the wall of the shower, his body tight against mine. I put my hands in his hair and he continued kissing me anywhere and everywhere. He started at my neck and then moved to my shoulder and finally one breast and then the other. I started to squirm and move my legs because he was ignoring the place that really needed his touch. This did not go unnoticed.

  “Why are you wiggling around? Tell me what you want,” he hummed in my ear as he softly bit it. He knew exactly what I wanted

  “I want…” I started, not knowing how to finish.

  “I need to hear you say it.” Rocky licked my neck from nape to throat, and then gently nipped along the sensitive skin. I gasped and started panting, my whole body shaking.

  “I want you to make me come.” There I said it.

  “How would you like me to do that, Violet? There are so many different ways,” he pondered while running his finger up and down my ribs, tickling me.

  “I don’t care,” I replied. I realize that was a lame answer, but my thought processes were not at their peak at that very moment.

  “How about if I just do this?” he whispered in my ear as he put one hand between my legs while the other went around my back to hold me up. He kept whispering a running commentary of every move as he made it.

  “Maybe I can slide this up your wet pussy.” He inserted one finger and then another. “So wet.” He started moving them up and down, in and out. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tightened my embrace.

  “Yeah, I think you like this. I think you want MORE.” He started to go faster and I began to tremble. I pulled his head down and bit him in the shoulder.

  I started to whimper and beg, “Don’t stop.” He kept going until I reached ecstasy, quivering under his skilled hands. I’m lucky he was holding me up, because I had no control of anything. He rinsed the conditioner out of my hair and turned off the water. Rocky had the forethought to grab two giant towels and hang them on the hook next to the shower. He reached for one and wrapped it around me, drying me off. He was really thoughtful in making sure I was well taken care of.

  “Thank you,” I confessed. “I needed that.”

  “I know. It wasn’t anywhere near the performance you just put on, but I’ll try to step up my game for next time, ok?” He offered me a smile and a wink while he patted himself down with the other towel.

  “No. I’m pretty much maxed out here. If you step up your game, it’ll kill me. Trust me, you’re perfectly fine.” If I had to keep trying to one-up him, I really would end up with something shoved up my ass!

  “Good to know. What are the sleeping arrangements tonight? Are you going to kick me out or can I stay over?” Rocky asked, looking at me hopefully.

  “The neighbors are going to think I’m a whore after seeing your car parked overnight, but whatever. I’m going to bed with a smile on my face, that’s all that matters.”

  He took my face in his hands and he kissed me softly on the lips. “You’re the furthest thing from a whore that I’ve ever met. I’m getting addicted to you, Violet.”

  I kissed him back and then we got ready for bed. I fell asleep in his arms with a giant grin on my face. I felt like nothing could go wrong and I was invincible. I would soon find out how quickly life could throw you a curveball. My world was turned upside down the very next day.

  Tuesday, Week Three

  The day my naiveté caught up to bite me in the ass and all my hopes were shattered, actually started out pretty much like any other day. My alarm went off, I got Rocky to try a bowl of cereal, we kissed goodbye, and went off to our separate jobs. He told me he’d see me tonight at work and that he hoped I had a great day.

  The work day was uneventful. All the crazy phone calls from the prior day appeared to have dried up. Someone turned off the steady flow of customers and we managed to get entirely caught up by two in the afternoon. Dottie and I spent the rest of the day chatting about a new butterscotch chocolate chip bar she wanted to try and the insane plot of the newest “Mafia Princesses” episode. I got Dottie hooked on that show and she loved to gossip about the ladies as much as I did. One of them was juggling two boyfriends and we had differing opinions on which one she should choose.

  After arriving home from a lackluster work day, I was greeted with three messages on my answering machine. Stella left the first message declaring that she hoped I was having fun because I never talked to her anymore. She wanted an update. The second message was from my mom, telling me to call her back. The third message was from my mom telling me not to call her back tonight because she was going to a movie with her ex-boyfriend. I knew Stella would be on her commute home, so I called her first.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I asked.

  “Nothing too exciting. The girls are having a sleep over party with five friends and they want you to make brownies. Evidently I’m incapable of making edible desserts. I told them I’d ask and see if you had time. I know you’ve been busy playing hide the salami with your new man so I didn’t make them any promises on your behalf. How’s that all going, by the way?”

  “Real subtle, Stella. Nice. You’re classy. It’s been going well. Last night was particularly interesting. Let’s just say that I’m doing my best to keep up with him and I’m not falling behind.” Not at all.

  “I have no idea what that means, Violet. Go into more detail and quit holding out on me.”

  “I put on some fuck-me-heels with not much else and rocked his world, ok? He thought he was all adventurous by getting some chocolate sauce, but I upped the ante by being a little dominatrix. Then we had some steamy shower fun. It’s all good. Any more questions?” She was going to flip out.

  “I’m freaking out right now. Since when are YOU a bold little sex fiend? I don’t know you anymore! I must finally be rubbing off on you after all these years. Good job. If you need any new ideas, let me know. I ordered this new thing I saw in a catalog---”

  “LA LA LA, I can’t hear you! I don’t want to know!” I interrupted her. “I’m not a bold sex fiend. I literally have no more hot moves up my sleeve. I’m all tapped out. But otherwise it’s going well. He cooked me dinner on Sunday and his friends came over too. They’re really nice. I think you should meet them all. We can have a cocktail party or something,” I recommended.

  “Yeah, and then it can turn into a group orgy with the supermodel and whomever else looks like they belong in a magazine. Max would just love that. Or not! I do want to know what they all look like, so I can put faces with names. Can’t you just snap some group pics with your phone or something?” Stella suggested.

  “Yeah, that’s about as cool as my mom taking pictures of Rocky and I before we went to Marjorie’s party. Not happening! Can’t you just make an appearance at the brewery one day and see who’s there? I’ll give you a tour.”

  “Hello? Am I supposed to say I just happened to be in the neighborhood and it was cold out so I thought you could use an extra sweater? That’s not lame at all!” Fuck, she had a point.

  “Fine then, we’ll stick with the cocktail party. Also, I can make brownies for the girls. Let me know when you need them.”

  “Thanks! I’m just pulling into my driveway. I’ll talk to you later! Bye!”

  We hung up and I made the second call while I microwaved the last of Rocky’s pasta. I was relieved this call would be quick because I had to change and go to Grim Rock. I got my mom’s answering machine and left a message telling her that I was fine and I would talk to her tomorrow. After burning my mouth on the sizzling pasta and swearing at my stupidity, I hurried and put on different clothes. I traded black pants that I didn’t like because they were too short, for a pair of dark blue skinny jeans. It was colder and rainy today so I wore a black and gray striped V neck sweater over a black turtleneck. I wanted to be warm and comfortable. I slipped into a pair of well-worn running shoes and headed out the door.

&n
bsp; Surprisingly the radio stations played great music the entire way to the brewery, and I was in a good mood as a result. I walked in just before six to the sounds of Sergio bitching at a grinning Rocky.

  “Dude, give me back my fucking phone,” Sergio whined.

  “How many times do I have to tell you? I am no longer in possession of your phone. It is lost. You have to find it,” Rocky said, smiling at his friend. He took a few steps in my direction and wrapped me up in his arms. He greeted me with, “Hi, I’ve been waiting to see you all day,” followed by a lengthy kiss. I put my arm around his waist and squeezed.

  “What did I miss?” I asked, feeling like I arrived just a little too late.

  “Dipshit took my phone again and he won’t give it back,” Sergio explained.

  “Well, why did he take it?” There must be a reason. “Did you record him doing something embarrassing again?”

  “It’s actually your fault, Violet,” Sergio accused. “You got him so worked up over whatever you did last night that I caught him humming show tunes. I tried to take a video on my phone, but he snatched it away, ran off, and hid it. Now he won’t tell me where it is.”

  “Can’t you just call your number and listen for the ring?” I always have to be the voice of reason around here.

  “I could certainly do that, except that some sadistic pig bitch turned it OFF before he hid it.”

  Rocky held up his hands and admitted, “Guilty as charged.” Ironically, not more than two seconds later, Rocky’s phone began to ring. “I guess I better answer my phone. Good thing I know where it is,” he taunted Sergio.

  “Hey Irina, what’s up?” Rocky answered after looking at the caller ID.

  He immediately moved the phone away from his ear and I could hear Irina screaming, “Rocky, where’s Violet? Is she with you? Is she safe?”

  “Relax Irina, she’s right here and everything is fine.” Rocky looked at me and I shrugged my shoulders, not understanding why she was so concerned.

  “Rocky, I just got off the phone with Katja. She called to brag that she knew something I didn’t. Ursula is flying here… to Pineville…RIGHT NOW!!” Irina was so hysterical that it was nearly impossible to understand her.

  The color immediately drained from Rocky’s face. “Are you sure?” he demanded.

  “Do you think this is something I would fuck around with?” she angrily accused. “I don’t know when her flight landed or how much time we have. I just hung up with Vasily. He’s about fifteen minutes away.”

  “Sergio is here and I’ll get Dmitry.”

  Rocky hung up the phone and turned to his best friend. “Did you hear that? Get all the employees out and lock every door. Meet back here as soon as you’re done.”

  Sergio nodded and took two steps before coming back, “I need my phone. I have to call Carmine.”

  Rocky had already taken out his own phone to call Dmitry and mumbled, “Desk drawer,” while tapping numbers. Sergio dashed over to the drawer, pulled out the phone, and ran into the factory to send people home. I started to ask what the hell was going on, when Dmitry answered and Rocky held up a hand to shush me.

  Dmitry spoke before Rocky said a word. “Vasily already called. I’m loaded up and on the way. I should be there in less than four minutes.”

  “Good. I don’t know how much time we have. The priority is to make it here as quickly as humanly possible.” He hung up the phone and turned to me. “Violet, we need to talk.” Really? I hadn’t noticed. Maybe with everyone running around like it was the end of the world, someone could take a fucking second to explain what the fuss was about.

  “Walk with me,” he ordered as he went into his office. I followed him hesitantly as a sinking feeling of dread started to build in the pit of my stomach. Whatever was about to go down, was not going to be pretty. These people had always been so calm and in control. I had never seen such a panic.

  Rocky walked over to his desk and pulled a gun out of one of the bottom drawers. It was a 9mm. He checked to make sure it was loaded and tucked it into the back of his jeans.

  “Please sit down,” he requested while pointing to the couch. “I don’t know how much time I have before all hell breaks loose, so just bear with me. Resist your natural impulse to ask eighty-two questions and please listen to the whole story before you go apeshit. That’s all I ask. Can you do that?” He kept his eyes on me while returning to the entrance to his office. He took a quick look out into the reception area, and then returned his gaze to me while leaning on the door frame.

  “What the fuck is going on, Rocky? Why did you get a gun, who’s Ursula, and why is everyone freaking out?”

  “Violet, listen. I’m not fucking around here. NO more questions. I’m dead serious. This is important that you pay attention. Give me a chance to explain before you judge me.” His tone seemed to alternate from anger to desperation. “Ursula is the girl from New York City. The one who fucked me over. The reason I left. She’s very dangerous and she’s on her way here now. I need you to fully comprehend that this situation could spiral out of control very quickly. You need to do exactly what I tell you, no hesitating, and no questions. This is not a game. This is serious. I’m not messing around. I need to know that I can rely on you and trust you to follow my orders. Do you understand that?”

  “No, because I have no idea what’s going on. Why is she dangerous?” I asked him.

  Sergio took that opportunity to join Rocky in the doorway and give me an answer. “The short answer is that she’s the daughter of the boss of the Bratva, or Russian Mafia. I’m guessing she found out about you and she’s none too pleased.”

  The front door crashed open and Rocky and Sergio immediately went to the front desk. I left the office to find out who had arrived. It was Dmitry marching in with Irina right behind him. She was wearing jeans and a black leather jacket. Her hair was disheveled and she had no make-up on. I had never seen her look so frazzled before.

  Rocky gave them an update. “Sergio sent everyone home and all the doors are locked except for the front. Irina, get an ETA on Vasily. Dmitry, unload the bag and show us what you brought.”

  Dmitry carried an oversized camouflage duffle bag that he set on the desk and began to empty. He had a large assortment of fire power. I saw a few assault rifles, some hand guns, and knives of various shapes and sizes. What the hell was going on?!

  Sergio grabbed a gun and Irina pocketed a knife while she dialed Vasily. Dmitry slung a semi-automatic rifle over his shoulder and tucked a handgun in his belt. “What do you want, Violet?” He offered me a choice of what was left.

  “She doesn’t need anything,” Rocky answered for me.

  “Yes, I do! I need to know what the fuck is happening right now! This is all scaring me. Is this your idea of a sick joke or what?” I was really starting to panic.

  “You still haven’t told her?” Dmitry asked Rocky, while shaking his head in disbelief.

  “I don’t know how to tell her!” Rocky angrily shouted back.

  “Fine, I’ll tell her,” Sergio volunteered, “But first, just so you’re all aware, Carmine tried calling to warn us but my phone was off.” He shot a pointed look at Rocky. “Ursula is bringing company with her. She’s with Natalia, Leo, and two Mexican guys. Carmine had a tail on Natalia that followed her to Ursula’s and then to the airport. He got a flight as fast as he could, but they’re running about a half an hour behind the Russians.” He might as well have been speaking another language. I had no idea who any of those people were. I was clearly the only one without a clue, because the others did not look happy with this new bit of information. Dmitry seemed especially livid.

  Sergio turned to me and continued the explanation. “Violet, my last name is Barsotti. My dad is the boss of the Barsotti crime family. I wasn’t nailing anyone to get the pasta recipe because it’s my mom’s secret sauce. That stupid “Mafia Princesses” reality show you watch on TV…Maria is my cousin.”

  Holy shit! That was so cool. Without thin
king, I blurted, “No way! You’re mafia royalty, Sergio!” I was having a totally surreal moment.

  Sergio winked at me and said, “That’s not all. It gets even better. You’re boning one of the top enforcers for the Barsotti crime family. And Dmitry over there, well he happens to be Rocky’s counterpart for the Russian mob.” Wait, what? I slowly turned to look at Rocky, my eyes wide in shock.

  “Sergio, is this a fucking joke to you?” Rocky yelled. “Because I don’t think it’s funny. What the hell is the matter with you? This is no time to be joking around. It’s going to be real fucking hilarious when they start coming in and shooting up the place, you stupid fuck.”

  “Is someone really going to do that?” I squeaked in a panic.

  “I hope not, but I have to be prepared for anything. Now do you understand the urgency of the situation? And will you quit asking questions and let me finish explaining?” Rocky looked like he wasn’t going to put up with anything else, so I meekly nodded my head. Rocky scanned the room as if daring anyone to speak. He took a deep breath and began to explain. “I used to work for Sergio’s dad. You already knew that. What you didn’t know is that he’s the head of the Italian mafia in New York. A few years ago, intense fighting broke out between the Italians, Russians, Asians, and Latinos. There was a city-wide power struggle. The Italians started working with the Russians to form a shaky alliance and get rid of the other groups. It would be better to have half of the city, than only a quarter of it. That’s how Sergio and I met Dmitry. He was working for the Russians. Anyway, in order to cement the partnership between the Russians and Italians, there was to be a joining of the families. This was to be accomplished by a marriage. The daughter of the Russian boss was to marry someone on the Italian side. The daughter, Ursula, got to choose who she wanted. She picked me. I couldn’t say no after the way Sergio’s family took me in and treated me like one of their own.”

  I raised my hand. I figured I was in no way allowed to interrupt the conversation, but it might be safe to raise my hand. At the very least it was polite.