by S. Van Horne
“The butcher is Lilly’s brother-in-law. She’s one of my clients,” she explained.
“Wait a second,” I interrupted. “Are you talking about Lilly Knight?”
“Yeah.” Lennon frowned. “You know her?”
I nodded. “Remember me talking about that lady I met the night Foster found me? Lil? She’s the one that has a son named Kasey that I babysit from time to time to make a little extra money. She recently reconciled with…”
“Her son’s dad,” Lennon supplied with a small laugh. “It’s a small world. I had no idea that we knew the same person. When I was going through a lonely spell a few months back, Lilly gave me the number to the Meat Market and got me hooked up with the guy they call Pork.”
I couldn’t help but gawk at my friend. Lennon was a successful hair stylist who could perform minor miracles armed with a brush and a curling iron. I knew that she had clients coming out her yin yang, but I never imagined that one of them might be related to a clandestine prostitution ring or that she might indulge in an affair with one of them. “Okay, so now who’s paying for dates?” I muttered, unable to wrap my mind around this newest development.
“Hey, don’t judge. Sometimes, a girl gets lonely in the big city. For one long weekend, I decided I didn’t want to feel quite so alone. Besides, we didn’t fuck, Essie. I told you that it didn’t have to be about sex, remember. For me, all I needed was a good cuddle. You set the terms, girl,” she informed me with a careless shrug. Lennon had never been afraid to face the seedier side of life. Of course, who was I to judge her? I’d married my high school sweetheart right after graduation and had somehow missed the warning signs that he was a bona fide psychopath.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m in no position to judge anybody,” I quickly apologized. The last thing I wanted to do was offend the woman who’d stood by me during the darkest moments in my life. Lennon had helped me escape Foster. She’d hidden me in her apartment in Chicago after Foster found me in my tiny one-bedroom studio apartment along the river. He’d nearly beaten me to death. Lennon had helped me when I got out of the hospital and taken me back to her place. Then, she’d lied to Foster when he’d come banging on her door, threatening to kill her if she didn’t tell him where I was as I’d cowered in her bathtub with my hands over my head. Somehow, she’d gotten rid of him that night and I’d stayed with her until the day my mom called to tell me Foster had finally offed himself on our anniversary. At the end of every day, Lennon was my savior, and I had no right to question whatever choices she’d made for herself. But that didn’t mean I was ready for a weekend with this guy she kept calling Italian Sausage, either. “But how do we know this Italian Sausage guy is safe for me?” I asked huskily, my voice holding a fine tremor of fear that I’d never quite managed to get rid of since leaving Foster.
“Because, my love, I vetted the shit out of him,” Lennon replied evenly, reaching out to give my cold hand a reassuring squeeze.
“You did?” I asked weakly, relieved to hear that I wasn’t just being thrown into the deep end of the pool without a life vest.
“Of course, I did, babe. You’re my girl. I did some digging about Codename: Italian Sausage. His real name is Lucca Falconi, he’s thirty-eight, and he’s, predictably, of Italian descent. When he’s not helping his longtime friend, the butcher, keep his business above water, he works as a very successful real estate broker. Although, the guy could sit on his ass counting his millions if he wanted to since he comes from old money.”
“Then why is he doing…this?” I asked, nodding slightly toward the butcher shop. I knew who Lucca Falconi was. I read the society pages. I’d seen the pictures. The man was sin on a stick. With thick dark hair, toned olive skin, and muscles that would make a normal woman cream her panties, he was a CATCH…even if you were only catching him for one night. Of course, there was nothing normal about me. The idea of being with that kind of man…so virile and larger than life…scared the snot out of me.
“He started out at the Meat Market when Jason inherited the shop after his grandfather died. He found it was failing. They were in college together. At first, he offered Jason a loan, but according to my sources, the butcher is a total alpha and wouldn’t accept a handout. He had this idea for an escort ring and started contacting his college buddies. They were all young, strappin’, packin’ guys and none of them ever turned down easy pussy. The word was that the butcher and Italian Sausage were the biggest pussy hounds in Chi-town. They just parlayed that into a successful side business. The last few years as The Meat Market has grown more successful and the shop can stand on its own financially, your guy, Italian Sausage, has been pulling back from the business, taking fewer and fewer engagements. When I set your appointment with the butcher last week, he actually told me that you were a lucky girl since you were going to be the Sausage’s very last meal, if you know what I’m saying.”
Lennon winked at me and my stomach sank. Whether she realized it or not, this felt like a lot of pressure on me. “The last one? You mean, after me, Lucca Falconi is…”
“Taking his meat off the market,” Lennon supplied eagerly with an enthusiastic nod. “Evidently, he wants to settle down. Find a woman, have some kids, and make a home. With forty looming in the not-so-distant future, I guess he wants to start stoking the fires in his own home rather than lighting them for whoever contracts for him.”
“I…I don’t know what to say. What you’ve described…Lennie, he’s way far out of my league, hon. I wouldn’t even know what to say to him,” I worried out loud as my heart pounded in my chest. I knew I wasn’t ugly. In fact, I’d been told I was pretty my whole life, though personally, I didn’t see it. I had thick blonde hair the color of golden wheat, midnight blue eyes and a perky upturned nose. If there was a feature that I despised on my face, it would have been my thick lips. I knew men liked that plump look, but to me it seemed like I was carrying around two water balloons on my face. As for my body, I had a slender frame with a narrow waist and smallish breasts. Foster had always griped that they were too small, but I’d always secretly liked the fact that I didn’t bounce too badly when I went jogging. I guess if I had to describe myself I’d have said I was passable, but not pretty. At least not the kind of pretty a man like Lucca Falconi would have hanging off his arm. I don’t care if I was paying for his services. The idea that he could want a girl like me? It was flipping insane.
“Essex, from everything I know, this guy is the real deal. Honest. Handsome. Kind. Approachable. He’s a throwback to a different time. He thinks women should be treasured and cherished. Protected and respected. He’s an Old-World man caught in the wrong generation, you know? This is exactly the type of guy you need to guide both you and your body back to the land of the living. Spend the weekend with him. Let him show you that not all men are scum.”
“D-does he know about my past?” I questioned hesitantly, my eyes filling with tears of humiliation as Lennon shifted uncomfortably on the bench beside me.
“Yeah,” she acknowledged softly. “I imagine so. I told the butcher your story. I had to in order to make him understand the type of weekend you needed. The butcher is actually the one that suggested Lucca…ahem…I mean, Italian Sausage for you. After I showed the butcher your picture and shared just a bit about your past, he thought that the Sausage would be the best fit for you. All I need to do now is walk across the street and confirm it for you. Then, you can spend the rest of today getting ready for the weekend. All you need to do is tell me that you want this.”
Swallowing hard, I stared across the street into the window of the butcher shop as a tall, dark-haired man strode toward the meat counter from the back. Squinting at the familiar looking stranger, my breath caught as I realized who I was looking at.
Lucca Falconi.
In. The. Flesh.
Licking my lips as I eyed his body from tip to toe, I felt an unfamiliar rush of excitement flood me. He looked good enough to eat. Even dressed in a tight black
t-shirt and faded jeans, the man was enough to feed my spank bank fantasies for years to come. Just because I’d been abused did not mean I was dead from the neck down.
Quite the opposite.
I yearned to be touched. Caressed. Petted.
I was simply terrified that those touches would turn cruel when I least expected it.
But eyeing the incredibly sexy man inside the shop, I knew my desires were going to outweigh my doubts.
“Okay, Lennon. Do it. Make the arrangements,” I directed my friend before I allowed my worries to win out. Sweet mercy, was that my voice coming out of my mouth right then?
“You’re sure?” she asked me as she rose to stand beside where I still sat perched on the edge of the wooden bench, my eyes still glued to where Lucca stood behind the counter, towering over the other men.
I wanted him. And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I was going to try and grab what I wanted even if I wasn’t sure how much I could take from him. “Yes. I’m sure. Go get me that Italian Sausage.”
CHAPTER TWO
LUCCA
I LEANED AGAINST THE WALL, impatiently watching as my old college pal, Jason Somers, scribbled on his note pad as he continued talking to the cute dark-haired girl with a pixie-like haircut. Yet again, I wondered what the hell I was doing here. I’d met Jason almost twenty years ago when we’d pledged the same fraternity, and over the years, we’d become as close as any true brothers could be. So, when he called me, I always answered the phone. And when he asked for a favor, I rarely said no. Glancing down at the gold Rolex adorning my thick wrist, I grimaced as I realized that I’d been holding up the wall behind me for the last ten minutes, and I strove to remain calm. But I, Lucca DeMario Falconi, was never a man that liked to be kept waiting. Maybe it was my privileged upbringing as the only child of a wealthy, older Italian couple. Maybe it was my penchant for milking the most from every moment of my day. Either way, if my beloved frat brother kept me waiting much longer, wasting my valuable time, I was gonna deck the shit out of him and worry about the damn consequences later.
I’d already told Jason “The Butcher” Somers that my sausage was now my own and the weekends I’d spent working for his “shop” were over. Sure, being a male escort had been fun when I’d been a horny young guy in my twenties. Hell, it had even been exhilarating in my early thirties when I’d felt like the world was my own personal playground, but I was older now, damn it. I’d buried both my parents in the last couple of years. My age was catching up with me. It was time to stop passing out my cock to every willing woman and find the one lady that I could love for a lifetime. I’d worked hard to build a career that I was proud of, and I couldn’t afford to jeopardize what I’d built as a real estate broker with an illegal side job that I didn’t even need. Hell, if I was being honest, it was a job that I’d never needed. I’d done it for the thrill. And to help out my oldest friend. But it wasn’t like my old college pal needed my dick anymore. His butcher shop, The Meat Market, was now firmly operating in the black and had been for quite some time. The proceeds he brought in from his escort side business was just gravy at this point, and I didn’t feel bad for walking away from the operation.
But when Jason left a voice mail this morning that he needed me for one last job, I’d felt duty bound to help him out. Now, I just wanted to get the details and get the job done.
Then, I could be done. Officially done. Thoroughly done. Stick-a-fucking-fork-in-me-because-I’m-fucking-done DONE. Straightening as I watched the girl give Jason a happy smile and a nod before turning to leave, I watched as my friend turned to face me, his grin widening as he spotted me.
“Hey, man!” he greeted me with a lift of his chin. “I’m glad you could make it in. How’s life in the financial district? You still wheeling and dealing, making money hand over fist?”
“Like you give a shit,” I muttered, rolling my eyes at his glib question as I followed him toward the office in the back while the other two guys behind the counter continued assisting customers. I knew Jason could not give two fucks about how the real estate market was treating me, and he knew that I knew. It wasn’t Jason’s fault. He just wasn’t the type of guy to care about more than what was on his own personal plate. “Let’s you and I cut the bullshit, Jay. We’ve known each other too fuckin’ long to waste our time like that. Why am I here? I told you weeks ago, man…The butcher needed to find somebody to take my place because I was out,” I reminded him, making sure to call him by his codename.
Collapsing into the chair behind his desk, Jason sighed. “C’mon, man. I’ve got a customer that needs a great Italian Sausage. You might say she’s starving for it,” he said as he picked up a folder on his desk and tossed it toward me as I sat in the only other chair in the room—the one right in front of his desk.
Ignoring the file that landed in front of me, I simply stared at him. “I’m out, Butcher. I’m too old to be fucking my way through Chicago anymore. Easy pussy was fun for what it was, my friend, but I’m looking for more than a good time and a tight hole now. I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done while working for The Meat Market. I provided a service I enjoyed. I liked giving women what they needed. That’s no lie. But I’m looking for The One now. And I don’t think I’m gonna find her if I continue taking these engagements from you,” I said, tapping the thin file for emphasis.
Jason shook his head. “This is the last one, Lucca. I swear. And she’s a special case. There may not even be any sex involved.”
I couldn’t deny that got my attention. It was rare that a woman contracted with me and didn’t want sex. Lifting my eyebrow, I met Jason’s gaze. “What’s her deal?” I asked reaching for the file and flipping it open. “Holy Christ,” I breathed as my breath caught in my throat and my eyes landed on the photograph stapled to the inside of the folder.
She was gorgeous. Absolutely and undeniably hot as fuck.
Between those bottomless blue eyes and the made-to-suck-my-cock lips curved into a shy smile, she was everything my dick screamed it wanted. And while I could only see a hint of her cleavage in the picture, I could tell that her body promised pure heaven. I could see from the candid photograph that she was a tiny little thing. It was clear by the way the couch dwarfed her petite frame as she sat into the corner as she canted her head slightly to the left and rested her elbow on the arm of the sofa, her chin in her hand.
“Glad to know you like what you see,” Jason noted with a self-satisfied smirk. “I knew she’d be your type. She appeals to the alpha male in you. It’s all over your face. You wanna find her, mark her as yours, and protect her from every other swinging dick in the city. And to be honest with you, I think that’s exactly what she needs. That poor chick deserves to feel safe after everything she’s been through the last few years.”
“What the fuck do you mean?” I barked, my hackles rising at the thought that she might need protection from someone. Whatever threat she faced, I’d eliminate. Quickly and painfully. Not one second’s harm would come to this sweet angel. Not if there was a breath left in my body.
“It’s all in the file, but I’ll give you the highlights if you want,” Jason offered.
I felt my eyes narrowing dangerously and I reminded myself that Jason was a friend. An old friend. And he wasn’t the type that would want any woman in danger. Especially one that was meant to be mine, I thought as my eyes dropped back to the picture in the folder, my finger lightly tracing over her face. “I want, Jay. I want to know everything.” I felt Jason’s eyes considering me for a few tense heartbeats before the other man started talking.
“Your girl’s name is Essex Laine Landry. She’s twenty-two-years-old and just got hired as an ER LPN over at County Hospital. She was raised by two loving parents and she’s got the same best friend she’s had since kindergarten. You might have seen her earlier. She’s the babe I was chatting with at the meat counter.”
“The one with the pixie cut?”
“Yep, that was her. Anywa
y, Essex—or Essie as her bestie called her—has spent the last four years of her life caught up in a nightmare. See, she married her high school sweetheart the day after graduation and everybody’s Mr. All American turned into a fucking monster almost overnight. Apparently, he was beating on her before the ink on the marriage license was dry and continued to take his rage out on her every day after until about a year ago.”
Gripping the arms of the chair I sat in to keep from throwing Jason’s desk across the room, I tried to breathe. The thought of any man taking his fists to a woman as tiny and fragile as Essex looked in that picture was enough to make me want to find this fucker, rip out his throat and strangle him with his own esophagus. “I’m gonna kill him,” I stated with quiet vehemence, fully prepared to follow through on my word.
“Too late, buddy. After he beat the shit out of her for the last time, she got a restraining order and divorced his abusive ass. The nasty prick committed suicide this past May. Bullet to the head on what would have been their anniversary. His suicide note said he didn’t wanna live without her.”
“Fucker took the easy way out. I would have killed him with my bare hands and saved a perfectly decent bullet,” I bit out angrily. I was happy as hell that sick fuck wasn’t still wasting air, but I couldn’t deny that I felt deprived of ending him myself. Now there wasn’t anywhere for my rage to go. Picking up Essex’s file again, my eyes were automatically drawn back to her photograph. How the hell could any man mistreat a woman as beautiful as her? The very idea was appalling.
“At any rate,” Jason continued, “Now that she’s out of imminent danger, Essex is trying to start her life over again. The problem is that she’s now got an almost pathological fear of men.”
“Who could blame her?” I growled defensively, unwilling to listen to anyone that might speak negatively of Essex, even if he was one of my closest friends. She had every reason to be distrustful of the male species. Besides her father, her husband should have been the man she should have been able to trust the most. That dirty fucker had betrayed that trust. It was little wonder she was wary of men. Between what she’d been through and her diminutive size, Essex would know firsthand how destructive a man could be when he was angry.
