NICO: A Mafia Bad Boy Romance

by Adams, Evie

  Sal was coming out as I was about to enter. “Morning.” He said.

  “How's the old man?” I asked.

  “Not good, but no worse than yesterday or a week ago.”

  The Don had been ill for years, but the last 6 months he had taken a turn for the worse and the last month refused all medical care. He was supposed to be gone already, but he held on.

  “Who's the girl?” He asked.

  “Nobody.” I told him, and had a pang of jealousy there. Sal was my half-brother. I never knew Sal growing up, he lived with father while me and Michael lived with Mom. We knew him a bit, but his mother did not like us, so he didn't either. It's entirely possible he was jealous that the Don showered more affection on us during visits than him, but at the same time, I was jealous he got the normal family life here, while Michael and I went to boarding schools and all the rest, mingled with the upper crust while he and they would never be a part of that world. But they had the Family, which meant loyalty and love instead of the viciousness of the rich. Maybe a different sort of viciousness, an honest cruelty.

  Everyone in this family had done jail for murder, theft, robbery and all sorts of things. In my other family, nobody ever went to jail, if they did it was for something white collar like insider trading or financial malfeasance- which was just another sort of robbery and theft, but stealing a car got you 3 years, stealing millions from poor pensioners got you a year of country club white collar jail. Then we had Uncle John who liked young girls and took vacations to Thailand and the islands out there so he wouldn't get caught. He was a child molester, but with enough money, it wasn't illegal. In this family a guy like that would have been killed, and the remains never found.

  Another cousin from my other family was the founder of a shipping company. He made a habit of living on the islands, and the custom there was to have your daughter deflowered by the local rich man- which he was. When he died, there were hundreds of people claiming they were his heirs- illegitimate children of his deflowering virgins hobby- and they were probably right. The fight over his billions was a lawyers dream. My brother and I were even left some money, but I turned it down rather than get into that fight. The islanders needed it more than me. That was my legitimate family, the Morgan family. The Marletti’s were criminals and thieves, and degenerates, but somehow they were better human beings.

  Sal would be in line for being the Don if I was out of the picture. He may still be since he was in this family his whole life and I was not officially until three years ago. The head of the family isn't always passed down to the oldest son, usually it's the best son, but if an uncle or someone outside the family proper is a better suit, then the captains choose him. The family was run more like a business than a family nowadays. I was smart, successful, clean as far as a rap sheet, but maybe too handsome, too interesting, too successful, too flashy to be able to run a mob family. Or too soft like a lot of them thought. I continually had to prove my ruthlessness here, just like when I worked on Wall Street, but most of these guys would learn a thing or two about ruthlessness if they had spent time with the people I did in my other life. News is bad for business, so if they wanted someone quiet, that would be fine too, and Sal would be the right choice.

  But I did want it. I wanted power, respect, to tread that line between decency and criminality. I didn't need it, but I wanted it.

  I went in and father was lying in bed, my heart stopped for a minute because he lay in the sunlight, and the man next to him was a priest. But Dad smiled and said something to the priest, who walked away past me. Father motioned for me to take the seat just left vacant by the priest. He could see the worry in my face and told me,

  “He comes every few days now prepared to give me my last rites, but I humor him, annoy him. Your Uncle Carmine sent him, the one who was briefly a priest before he broke our mother's heart and left the priesthood. He didn't realize what celibate meant I guess. The priest here asked if I wanted to take confession, I asked ‘Why?’ ‘So you may be forgiven’ he said. ‘Don't I have to reject Satan for that?’ I asked. ‘Of course’ he said. I told him ‘Now isn't the time to make any enemies,’”

  I laughed.

  He hit my knee with his hand, gently, “Don't laugh, I stole that joke from someone else, can't remember who right now, but I always liked it, and hoped I could use it one day. Another thing off the bucket list I guess.”

  “Voltaire,” I told him.

  “What?”

  “Those were Voltaire’s last words, so they say. A French writer from the 18th century.”

  “Voltaire. Yeah. You’re too smart to be my son. Did you know he fixed the lottery? The king ran numbers to finance his wars, and Voltaire fixed it, made him a rich man, rich enough to write books.”

  “I did know that. You and he would have got along well I think.”

  He leaned in to whisper, but he was too weak to get his body completely over. He always did that when he wanted to tell me something important, like we were conspirators, “So I'm told I might get another thing off the bucket list too? You've brought some woman here with you? Might I get grandchildren in the near future?”

  “Maybe from Michael, I'll call him and ask for you. This woman hates me right now.”

  “Right now. That's OK, sometimes it's more fun if they hate you at first. Like your mom did me. How is Michael by the way?”

  “Good. He’s good. I'm not sure the Senator can come here though to see you.”

  “State Senator,” he corrected. “But hopefully more soon, Lieutenant Governor I guess. I know he can’t come visit someone like me, and I don't care, I'm greedy and selfish as a dying man has the right to be. I can't see him or any grand kids he gives me, but you and yours I can.”

  “You sound like a Jewish mother right now you know that?” He laughed, and coughed.

  “I'll bring her by to see you, maybe tomorrow.”

  “OK, send the priest back in, I want to annoy him some more.”

  I agreed and left. When I got back to the cabin. Anna was asleep. I thought of waking her, but instead just watched her sleep. Puffy cheeks, breast rising and falling, mouth slightly open, she looked lovely and vulnerable. I wanted her, but I could wait. I had to wait.

  But I wouldn't wait that long.

  She would come around, one way or another. Hopefully tomorrow because my cock ached for her, and whatever she said, her eyes ached for me. Tonight though, we would both have peace.

  I slipped into bed beside her and listened to her breathe until I fell asleep. I smiled thinking of how pissed off she'd be if she woke first with me next to her.

  (Back to Table of Contents)

  CHAPTER 7 -ANNA

  I woke with a smile on my lips from the dream I just had. Something about running through the woods and swimming in the lake with a handsome stranger. But it went away when I opened my eyes and saw that face 6 inches from mine. The face of my captive and kidnapper and maybe rapist next to me. Peaceful, almost angelic sleeping, but still, a monster underneath.

  A crazy thought of stabbing him entered my mind, but knew I couldn't do that. But I could run. I snuck out of bed carefully and crept to the door, careful of every squeaking floorboard and got to the door. I opened it and was out.

  The lake shimmered under the sun coming up between the mountains, but I ignored it. Behind the cabin were woods and a locked gate, no way. I decided quickly that I had to follow the shoreline of the lake and sooner or later there would be some house or cabin or road or highway. There had to be.

  Before I got 200 feet, I heard the cabin door open and footsteps on the porch. I jumped into the water, up to my ankles and realized that didn't help anything, my feet froze in the cold, stinging water. He came running, and his eyes were dark as midnight, and his face had a dark anger on it.

  “Jesus Christ woman, do I have to tie you to the bed so you don't escape while I'm sleeping? Is that what you want?”

  “You wouldn't.”
r />   “I wouldn't before this morning. But I wouldn't have hit you before this morning either and it's taking all I have not to right now. And what the hell do you think will happen if someone finds you and grabs you?”

  “You'd go to jail.”

  “Only if you lived long enough to tell anyone.”

  “Then do it now. Why wait if that's what you want?”

  “I wouldn't have to trust me. It would be . . . never mind.” He looked down, away from me as he spoke, in a low voice without anger. “Just know there are worse things than me waiting for you out there. Much worse.”

  What the hell did that mean? It was some trick of his. “Worse than a woman-beater, rapist, kidnapper?”

  “Yes. But I haven't hit or raped you yet. I should though, any other man in my position would do that to his woman.”

  “I'm not your woman, I'll never be.”

  “That's where you're wrong,” He said and stared at me until I had to look away from his smoldering eyes, “You are mine, until I get bored with you. You should know that by now, if not you will soon. Come on out of there, eat some breakfast, unless you want to clean up in there now.”

  I didn't have many options, so I walked over to the shore next to him and let him help me up. When I was out and walking past him, he slapped my ass, hard. I yelped and looked back at him, wanting to slap him, he smiled which infuriated me even more. “What was that?”

  “I won't hit you. Today. But if you behave like a child I will spank you like one.”

  I walked ahead of him, into the cabin and took a seat on the couch. He followed and walked over to the wood stove, throwing a cast iron pan on top of it and proceeded to crack eggs into it, and add cheese and vegetables and I'm not sure what else but it smelled amazing and I was impressed he could do anything other than be an asshole. His concentration was fully on cooking, and making those wonderful smells. When he was done, we ate. And it tasted almost as wonderful as it smelled. “What is this?” I asked.

  “Eggs,” he teased.

  “I know, I mean, it's good. What else is in it?”

  “That's a secret. I'm Italian, we don't share our recipes with outsiders.”

  “Full of secrets.”

  He finished before me and sat back, and began playing with my hair. Twirling it between his fingers, playfully. “So are you,” he said absentmindedly. “Do you want a shower?”

  “I'd love one.” I looked around, it was a one-room cabin, with a divider for the bedroom, but nothing that looked like a shower. Sometimes these rustic cabins have them outside, attached.

  “Come then.” He stood up and grabbed towels and soap, and walked outside. I followed him as he walked around the cabin and to the back side. The lake spilled around the back of the cabin, a little lagoon with a sandy shore. His cabin was on a little point, and sheltered this inlet from the rest of the lake. But no shower stalls in sight.

  “You can't be serious?” I asked him as he sat down near the sandy shore.

  “Deadly.”

  I had felt the cold water on my ankles earlier, and I didn't want that again, all over me, but I didn't have much choice. “OK, you can leave now, I think I can handle it from here.”

  “Nope.” He said with a grin.

  “If you expect me to. .”

  “You can't be trusted while I sleep, so this is what you get. Trust is earned. Get in.”

  “Turn around at least until I’m in.”

  “Nope. I haven't had your body. Yet. But I like to look at it, and that's what I plan on doing.” He leaned back, relaxed, like this was a day at the beach.

  This was insufferable, that he was enjoying this and grinning and relaxed. “Then I'll skip it and smell.”

  He laughed a quick belly laugh, a sarcastic laugh. “If you think I'm going to stay with you in a one room cabin without showering, you're crazy. Get in or I'll drag you in and scrub you myself.”

  “I hate you,” I told him, and started to feel like a surly teenager the way he was making me act. I couldn’t use force, I couldn’t use words, there wasn’t much I could do to fight him. And I wasn’t ready to try to seduce him with my feminine charms, I was sure that would backfire too.

  I turned around to undress, then waded in slowly, without looking at him, pretending he wasn't there. The water was piercing cold at first, but slowly warmed the closer I got to the far side, and the sandy shore, and him.

  He called out over the water, his hands cupping his mouth, “Don't get too close to the hot spring, it’s scalding if you get too close.”

  “Hot spring?” That was the warming jet of water I felt as I got closer to the far shoreline.

  “Yeah, I usually get in over here, close to it, instead of the freezing cold water like you.” He laughed at me, as I rushed closer to the warm water.

  “You're an asshole.” I told him.

  “Guilty. But not stupid.”

  I submerged myself in the warm water, but careful to stay in the mix of warm and cold, so one side of me was warm, almost hot and the other cool, almost cold. When I got up, I shouted to him, “Toss me the soap.”

  “Come get it.” He smiled again.

  I stared daggers at him as I walked straight to him, out of the water. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of begging or pleading, or covering myself up. He met my eyes for as long as he could, then looked me up and down, with a hunger on his face, and almost stumbled to put the soap in my outstretched hands. I turned around and walked back in coolly.

  It really wasn't that bad in the warmth of the water, the path down from where he sat was all sand, no sharp rocks like the other side, a well-worn, probably raked path, and a perfect warm temperature all the way. I lathered myself up and put a light amount on my hair, and dunked myself again to rinse off. I heard a splash behind me, when I looked he was coming right at me, with the hungry grin on his wolfish face. I yelped and ran to the near shore, the cold piercing water and the rocky stones underneath me, but he kept going for the spot I was just in and grabbed the soap I had left and laughed.

  “You're braver than I am to wade out there. Snapping turtles as big as a car in this lake.” He said as he lathered himself up.

  I ran to the shore and toweled off. And by the time I had finished he was on shore too, with the other towel, next to me, I had missed the show of him coming out, I should have reclined on the shore to watch him. But he wasn't very shy toweling off and wrapping the towel around his waist. I tried not to look, but, his body was lean and muscular, and the water drops sparkled in the sun as he stood in front of me.

  “Feel better?” he asked.

  I did.

  (Back to Table of Contents)

  CHAPTER 8 - MARCUS

  She was lovely in the sun, lovely naked, lovely angry at me rising from the water. Lovely.

  “So what is this place, why are you here, why have you brought me here?” she asked me questions like a machine-gun.

  “This is a family retreat. I am part of the family. And because I wanted you here is all you need to know on the last one.”

  “I thought you and your brother weren't a part of this family though. Part of your mother's sure, but not part of this one.”

  “You're not wrong to think that, actually that's probably right. We're not part of either really. Not really Marletti, not really Morgan. With the advantages of both I guess, and disadvantages of both. Michael chooses to be Morgan, I choose to be Marletti, at least for now. But we're not completely one or the other.”

  “You’re a mutt. It's okay, so am I.”

  “So are most. I don't know if I like 'mutt', but that's probably accurate. My parents were married, had us, then were divorced and we were Morgans, grew up in that world and visited this one. This one seemed more honest for me. But Michael liked the other one, or felt more at home there anyways. I tried the other one, but feel more at home here.”

  Before she could say something biting or sarcastic, Sal came up
behind us. “How's the water?”

  “Warm.” I answered. “This is Anna, a friend. You going in?”

  “No, I like the shower better.”

  “Shower?” Anna asked, incredulously.

  Sal laughed deeply, annoying to my ears. “Yeah, up in the main cabin. He told you this was it right? He always does that. Just because Marc likes the pond, doesn't mean the rest of us do.”

  She scowled at me, but she was sexy angry, “He does this to all his hostages?”

  “Mostly just drinking buddies from college, you're the first woman he's brought up here. What do you mean hostage?”

  “Nothing,” I interrupted and told her to shut up with my eyes. “The old man up yet? I'm going to introduce her to him today.”

  His eyes lingered on her hoping for an answer, then he turned to me, “No, sleeping now. Me and a couple of the boys are going out for a bit this morning. Want to come?”

  No. I want to stay here and watch her remove the towel and try to dress and fight me off at the same time, I thought, but what came out of my mouth was, “Yeah, I'll come. Give me a minute.”

  When he left I grabbed her by the arm, hard, so she would understand, and spoke quietly, but with barely restrained anger, “Remember when I said there are worse things than me out there? He's one of them.”

  “That hurts,” she said and I relaxed my grip on her arm, but didn't release it. “I just want people to know I'm here against my will. Does your father know I'm a hostage?”

  “They know what I tell them, and so do you. You're a hostage, but believe me, you'd rather be here than out there, for now. Here you're safe.”

  “Safe being threatened with rape and beatings and whatever else?”

  “It's all relative. You're more safe here, even with threats of rape and beatings.” I almost had a laugh out of her for that one, but she turned it off and looked away, out at the lake. “I'll send Appy down to keep you company while I'm out.”