Big Girls & Bad Boys: 8 Scorching Hot BBW Alpha Male Romance Novellas Box Set

by D. H. Cameron

  “Nancy! Call me, Meyer, please,” he admonished me playfully. “You’re a lucky man, Marco. Nancy is a beautiful girl,” Meyer said.

  “Thank you, Meyer,” I corrected myself. Meyer kissed my hand again and then Marco offered me his arm. I took it and we turned to leave. Meyer’s bodyguards were gone so he followed us and opened the door. Marco and the mob boss shook hands again and then we left. It wasn’t until we were in Marco’s Cadillac that the whole scene overwhelmed me and I broke down crying.

  ~~~

  ~6~

  “What is it?” Marco asked as I tried to compose myself.

  “They’re going to kill him, aren’t they?” I asked through my tears.

  “It is best not to think about it. Do not blame yourself. That life is dangerous and unforgiving. Tony chose that path,” Marco explained. I knew he was right but it didn’t make me feel any better. I felt responsible.

  “But it’s because of me,” I argued.

  “No! It is his failings, his shortcomings. You were a victim. You must not blame yourself. Never forget, Tony would have killed you without a thought,” Marco told me. He never said as much, but Tony left little doubt that if I didn’t pay him back in thirty days, he was going to make me disappear. I was sure my convictions were not so strong that I would have let that actually happen. I would have succumbed to a life of prostitution and Tony had no issues with that either. That’s how things worked. I didn’t feel better about a man likely dying and being involved in that somehow, but I remembered that he probably deserved it as much as anyone did.

  “I’ll try to forget. It’s just hard,” I admitted.

  “Yes, it is,” Marco said.

  “You paid Meyer to do it, didn’t you,” I asked. Marco looked at me.

  “Would you think less of me if that was the case?” he wondered. The question caught me by surprise but I was also surprised the answer was so clear.

  “No,” was all I said.

  “I paid your debt and more to Meyer. What he assumed I wanted in return, I could not control. I do believe he understood I wanted you free of Tony and the mob. He decided how best to achieve that and it is not up to me to tell him his business. He is a good customer, selling many cigars in his casinos and clubs. I am a good partner, giving him very good prices. Trust me, I did not intend that he kill Tony nor do I approve. I only wanted you to be free and you are,” Marco said.

  “Thank you. I didn’t intend to suggest I’m not grateful. I truly appreciate your...generosity,” I said using Meyer’s vague language. Marco laughed softly and took my hand as we drove. As shocking as the events of that morning were, Marco’s next surprise caught me off guard.

  “I want you to live with me. There is no need for you to live in that cabana. I fear for you there. Come live with me and if my home is not enough, I will build you a palace,” Marco told me. I was stunned at his offer. Why was he so good to me? Did I deserve him or his affection? Did I deserve his help?

  “I’m so much trouble. I don’t want to impose,” I told him. He frowned at me.

  “Impose? I ask for purely selfish reasons. I need you in my arms as you were last night. I need to know you are safe. You needn’t live in that slum or degrade yourself working in the club,” he said. It felt nice hearing him say that. The last man that had spoken to me like Marco was my father. I suppose I had to stop wondering why at some point and just accept it. Marco cared for me even if I struggled to fully understand it.

  I couldn’t deny I wanted what he offered. It had been so long since anyone cared for me, showed me any affection. I was only a pawn to be used for other’s gain. I had no real friends. Even those that showed me friendship, like Rosa, wanted something. Marco, on the other hand, wanted nothing but my companionship. He asked nothing in return for his love. It felt nice and I longed to bask in those feelings.

  “All right. I’ll live with you. I liked being in your arms too. Can ask you something?” I said.

  “Of course, anything,” he replied.

  “Why were you there at the club that night when I first saw you? You didn’t have a business meeting, did you?” I asked. Marco may have been a businessman but now I understood he was much more than that. Exactly what, however, I wasn’t sure.

  “No. I met with men and women who oppose Castro. We do not support the crook Batista but we recognize the lesser of two evils. I wished not to burden you with that but I suppose I must if you are to be by my side,” Marco said.

  “You’re not in danger, are you?” I inquired.

  “No, not yet. If Castro comes to power, I may be. I must oppose him. I have no choice,” Marco told me.

  “Then I hope Castro doesn’t come to power,” I replied. Marco squeezed my hand.

  “So do I. But until that day comes, if it ever does, let us enjoy each other. I will have men move your possessions today. Christmas is two days from now. We will celebrate together,” Marco said. I’d almost forgotten about Christmas. It was a holiday celebrated in Cuba but the clubs and casinos were full of people and I was likely going to spend the day working. I guess now things had changed.

  “That sounds lovely. I haven’t celebrated Christmas, not really, since I left home,” I said.

  “It is settled then. I will prepare you dinner for Nochebuena, Christmas Eve in your country. Then we can celebrate together as we did last evening,” Marco told me. I blushed at the suggestion but I was thrilled at the idea.

  “I like that. I’ve never celebrated that way,” I told him.

  “Neither have I, not Christmas anyway,” Marco replied and winked at me. We returned to Marco’s home, my home now I suppose. It was getting warm as the morning wore on and Marco closed the windows and drew the drapes to keep the warm afternoon sun from making the apartment unbearable. Everything felt so much better suddenly. I wasn’t sure where this would lead but I was happy to be out from under the dark clouds of debt I owed to Tony. I still couldn’t help feeling responsible on some level for whatever happened to Tony, but Marco was right. He chose that life and what came with it.

  Really, I suppose I should have been happy. Not that Tony was probably going to die in ways I’d rather not contemplate but that I wasn’t going to be killed or hurt. Tony was never explicit, those type of men never said what they really meant so they could never have to account for their words, but I knew what his threat was about. He meant to kill me if I didn’t give into him and prostitute myself. I know I would have done so if my only other choice was death. Thankfully, however, I never had to face that decision.

  Marco prepared a light lunch, typical Cuban sandwiches. The Cuban sandwich seemed a strange staple on a Caribbean island. They were more like something you might find in a New York delicatessen than a Spanish-speaking country, but they were delicious. I found I was hungry despite the morning’s events, probably because I had been relieved of such a great burden. We lounged in the small dining room sipping ice water to stay cool. We talked, mostly about the coming holiday but things turned to the revolution. It was a pall over everything and seemed to creep into many conversations.

  “I’ve heard the rebels are fighting in Yaguajay,” I mentioned after Marco breached the subject.

  “Yes, that is true. Yaguajay still stands. However, if it falls, only Santa Clara stands between the rebels and Havana,” Marco explained as he smoked a cigar. His apartment was warm and sweat beaded on Marco’s brow. I was used to the heat and humidity growing up in Iowa but such weather just a few days before Christmas was still strange to me. I grew up with bitter cold and snow but in Cuba, you could spend Christmas Day on the beach soaking up the sun.

  “Do you think they can actually win?” I wondered.

  “Men such as the rebels, men with fire in their blood and hate in their hearts, they are capable of anything. Batista has been unable to quell the revolution as of yet. Castro and his men are winning the hearts and minds of the people as they push closer to the capitol. That is Batista’s weakness. His greed and his corruption pois
on Cuba. The people look to Castro to right these wrongs. I believe, however, they will be disappointed in the end,” Marco observed.

  “I don’t understand why Castro would want to oust Batista only to do what you say. Why would he embrace communism?” I asked.

  “Power, plain and simple. He speaks of righting Batista’s wrongs, of empowering the people, but he seeks only power for himself. He seeks to rule with the promise of justice and fairness. Justice and fairness through force, however. Justice, at least as Castro defines it, is not the same as liberty. Castro will steal what liberty we have and replace it with his brand of justice. I suspect he will become another Batista, a dictator lining his own pockets at the expense of the Cuban people. I fear, however, he will be even worse,” Marco told me.

  His words were ominous and frightening. It was easy to believe war and revolt would never touch Havana. Havana seemed somehow shielded from the events to the south. It was all too easy to believe the revolution would be defeated eventually but as time passed and Castro’s forces won more and more victories, not to mention popular support, that belief was increasingly a delusion. Havana was in real danger, as was all of Cuba, and sooner than anyone believed possible. I didn’t want to hear anymore and changed the subject.

  “Don’t you have work to do?” I asked.

  “Eager to be rid of me already?” Marco asked playfully.

  “Definitely not,” I told him. Marco smiled.

  “Honestly, I should go to the factory. Things will come to a halt tomorrow. The factory will close for a week. I do not need to sell cigars so badly that I can’t afford my workers a week with their families during the holidays. I only wish I could be with mine. Thankfully, you are here,” Marco told me. Suddenly, I wondered about his family. I knew very little of them.

  “Your parents are in America. Are you an only child?” I asked. Marco looked pained at the question. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” I told him. Marco smiled and waved his hands.

  “No, no. You should know. I have a sister. She was a school teacher near Santiago de Cuba,” Marco said.

  “Where is she now?” I wondered.

  “She is dead. Killed by revolutionaries. I am told my sister, Eva, stood up to them. She was raped and then her throat was slit. Other teachers, clergy, doctors, were murdered also. They dared to stand up to the revolutionaries. My distrust in them is well placed,” Marco stated, his voice still calm but there was an unmistakable anger below the placid surface.

  “Oh my. I’m so sorry,” I told him. Then I reached out and took Marco’s hand.

  “Thank you. In some ways, you remind me of her. She was a good woman and I loved her dearly,” Marco said.

  “Is that why you hate Castro and his revolution?” I wondered.

  “In part, yes. Eva’s murder opened my eyes to what they really are. They are not freedom fighters, they do not bring justice. They bring oppression and brutality. Batista is corrupt but his people do not suffer under the whip as I fear they will under the communists,” Marco explained, his anger more apparent suddenly.

  “I would like to hear about your sister some time,” I offered. There was a time and place to learn of Marco’s sister but it wasn’t right then. “In the meantime, will you show me your factory?” I asked him hoping to take Marco’s mind off of the tragedy. He smiled and placed his other hand on mine and squeezed.

  “Yes, let me show you. Thank you,” Marco said and stood. He pulled me to him as I got to my feet and he took me into his arms. “Every moment I spend with you, Nancy, brings me more happiness than the last,” he told me. I laid my head on his shoulder and hugged him back. Marco kissed my head and squeezed me tighter. For the first time, I felt as if I was lending him strength instead of the other way around. I gently pushed myself from him and looked into his eyes.

  “Me too, Marco. I can’t thank you enough for everything,” I told him.

  “I assure you, my intentions are less noble and more selfish than you assume,” he said. I cocked my head, confused by that but Marco explained, “I do what I do to have you. I would do much more if it was required to possess you. I covet your loveliness. I need you,” he said. I didn’t blush but I warmed in my core. There it was again. The feeling that somehow I offered something, even if I wasn’t sure what it was, that Marco needed. Maybe he didn’t know exactly what it was either.

  “We’d better leave. You have work and if we don’t stop this, I promise that you won’t make it to the factory today,” I said suggestively. Marco laughed softly.

  “Yes, you are right. Work before pleasure,” he said and kissed me deeply. I inhaled sharply as his lips met mine and I melted. I enjoyed his kiss for a moment but then wiggled free.

  “Work!” I admonished him teasingly. Marco grinned wickedly but nodded.

  “You are stronger than I,” he said.

  “No I’m not,” I teased and then added, “I just want to enjoy the anticipation.” Marco laughed heartily, something he did often and I loved it, and offered his arm. He grabbed his jacket and hat as we left. I suddenly wondered if I’d made the wrong decision. I would have rather stayed and found out how the afternoon might have turned out. I guess we could explore those desires later that evening instead. I hoped we would anyway.

  ~~~

  We walked to the factory, as Marco usually did instead of driving. He could have chosen to live in a more upscale neighborhood, in a private house, but he loved his work. He wanted to be close to oversee his family’s business. His pride was evident as he showed me his factory, though he usually referred to it as his family’s factory. His grandfather’s father built it many years ago. Marco’s grandfather took over when it was his time and then passed it to Marco’s father in turn. Now Marco ran the family business as his parents enjoyed a well-earned retirement in America.

  Marco wasn’t just a caretaker, however. He had expanded the business, selling cigars all over the world now. I couldn’t help but hope that Castro was defeated so Marco and his family could continue their legacy. It seemed hard to believe that all this could be swallowed up by the pride of a few vain men. Marco finally showed me to the factory floor where hundreds of men and women, almost every one of them smoking a cigar, rolled, collected and boxed the product of their work. He explained that cigars were a perk of employment, a bonus of sorts. He assured me that his workers might riot if they were denied cigars and he was only half-joking.

  The workers greeted Marco like they might greet a friend. They greeted me too, mostly in Spanish, accepting me readily though they probably had no idea who I was or why I was there. We watched an older woman go about her work. She had only a few teeth remaining but never stopped smiling. She rolled a cigar as we watched, faster and with more dexterity than I could believe. She offered the final product to Marco who inspected it.

  “Muy bueno, Isabel,” Marco told her and handed it back. She bowed her head and smiled. Her mostly toothless grin was infectious.

  “Gracias, Marco. Ella es bonita,” Isabel said. I wasn’t fluent in her language but I understood that.

  “Gracias, Isabel,” I replied. Her smile grew even bigger and then she laughed, took some more tobacco and began to roll another cigar. Marco winked at me and we moved on. He showed me where the tobacco was stored until needed, where it was hung to age and where it was sorted and graded. He explained the different uses for the various leaves on a tobacco plant, the wrapper, the binder under that and the filler. He described how each contributed to the flavor and how they were blended in what amounted to an arcane art few men truly mastered. Somehow, I knew Marco was one of those men. I barely remembered half of what he told me but I enjoyed hearing it.

  “And this is the band,” Marco told me and showed me a finished cigar. I took it and looked closely at the paper label wrapped around the cigar as Marco explained, “The woman depicted, she is my sister. I changed these after her murder to honor her.” We stood in the storeroom where the finished cigars were left to age further before shipment. I
saw her likeness on the cigar boxes as well.

  “She’s beautiful,” I replied.

  “Yes, she is,” was all he said. We left the storerooms and went upstairs to his office. Unlike that of the mobster, Meyer Lansky, Marco’s office was modest. It wasn’t especially large but it overlooked the factory floor through large windows. The walls, like those of the rest of the factory, were red brick. It was apparent that Marco’s office was for actual work and not for show.

  “So, what do you think?” he asked as we stood at the windows watching the men and women below working furiously through the haze of the blue smoke that poured from the cigars they smoked.

  “It’s amazing. I’m glad you showed me. You have a right to be proud,” I replied. Marco put his arm around me.

  “Thank you for allowing me to share my work with you,” he replied. I turned and slipped my arms around Marco’s waist. He, in turn, ran his hands around my hips and then let them rest on my behind.

  “Can we go home soon or do you have to work?” I asked.

  “I must bid my workers a, how do you say it in America, a Happy Christmas?” Marco inquired.

  “A Merry Christmas,” I corrected.

  “Ah, I must wish them a Merry Christmas,” he said and then he raised an eyebrow and told me, “Then I will take you...”

  “Where? Home?” I asked expectantly before he could finish.

  “No, to dinner. Then maybe for a walk near the sea. Then dancing, drinks,” he said but laughed as I frowned at his words though I was sure he was teasing. “You do not want just to go straight home and make love, do you?” he asked.

  “Well, maybe dinner would be nice,” I replied. Marco laughed again.

  “Yes, we will need food to sustain us,” he told me and winked. My core warmed again at the prospect. I could wait but with each passing moment, my desire became more difficult to contain. As Marco pulled me close and kissed me, I could feel his desire growing as well as it pressed against my body. I resisted the temptation to reach down and squeeze him. I longed to feel him inside me again. I longed to feel his naked flesh against mine, his powerful arms embracing me as we made love.