Alphas Prefer Curves

by Unknown

  "Put this on. We're going out," he said before kissing my forehead, then handed me a black zippered garment bag.

  My brow wrinkled as I looked at the bag. "What is this?"

  "A dress. An associate of mine has a restaurant where they play live music. I think you'll like it there."

  I felt giddy hearing we were going out. Dante must have read my mind. I stretched to reach up and kiss his cheek before heading into the bedroom to change. After everything he had delivered for me the week before, I had no doubt the dress would be amazing.

  As I unzipped the garment bag, the dark red material softly fluttered. It was an A-line cap sleeve dress that reminded me of the dresses I saw my mother wear in photographs from the 1950s. The dress wasn't old fashioned though, it was the perfect blend of modern and classic.

  I slipped on the dress, loving the feel of the delicate material against my skin. The bodice pushed my breasts up and gave me amazing cleavage. If it wasn't for the thin mesh fabric that covered the entire dress, I would've felt too exposed. I wasn't used to dressing like this, but after one look in the mirror, I couldn't wait to see Dante's reaction.

  The dress reached just below my knee and the skirt swayed hypnotically as I walked. The longer I wore the dress, the more I loved it. Looking into the bag, I noticed a tag and read it.

  Deborah Hansen Designs, Canyon Cove

  The dress fit perfectly, hugging my every curve and making me feel beautiful. Designers never meant much to me, but next time I went shopping, I was going to look for more by Deborah Hansen.

  As soon as I entered the living room, Dante stopped what he was doing and stood. He walked over to me slowly, like an animal on the prowl and once I was within arm's reach, he pulled me close against him and smiled.

  "I saw that dress in a store window as we drove past. I knew you'd look beautiful in it, but I wasn't ready for you to take my breath away."

  Placing his hand on the small of my back, we entered the elevator in silence. I couldn't speak if I wanted to, I was too busy smiling as Dante kept looking at me. Once we reached the car, Sonny opened the door for us.

  "Luigi's," Dante said before climbing in.

  Luigi's was one of the oldest and most famous Italian restaurants in the area. They were known for their traditional Southern Italian cuisine, as well as for their catering to the Mafia. Some of the kids I went to school with had their confirmation or graduation parties there, but I had never been there before.

  The restaurant was on the corner of a small street in a quiet residential neighborhood. Sonny pulled the car as close to the busy entrance as possible, blocking several cars in the process.

  Dante helped me out of the car and as we approached the restaurant, the small crowd waiting for tables parted to let us through. A balding man in a black pinstriped suit stepped forward with his hands outstretched towards us.

  "Ahh Dante, come stai? È passato molto tempo," he said before kissing Dante's cheeks.

  "Yes, it's been a while," Dante said. "Let me introduce you to Gia Carlisi. Gia, this is Enzo Liguori."

  Enzo took my hand and held it between his hands. "Carlisi? Are you related to Francesca Carlisi?"

  "Yes, she's my mother," I said, surprised.

  "I see her beauty in you, cara mia. I'm sorry for your loss. She was an amazing woman."

  "Thank you," I whispered, feeling overwhelmed.

  Momma was well known in our neighborhood, because she was so kind and liked to help everyone. I had no idea how far her reputation extended. As I wondered if there was more to my mother than I knew, Enzo snapped his fingers and a busboy looked up, noticed Dante, and nodded at Enzo.

  "I trust you want your old table?" Enzo asked.

  "Of course," Dante said.

  The restaurant was broken up into two sections, one section by the bar and a larger section where the band was set up. The room had high ceilings and white walls with crown molding. The windows extended from the floor almost up to the ceiling, making the room look even taller. Several sparkling crystal chandeliers lit the rooms.

  We followed Enzo through the crowded restaurant towards a table the busboy was setting up in a quiet corner of the restaurant with a perfect view of the band. He smoothed the white linen tablecloth and set wine glasses down. As he turned to leave, Dante slipped some cash into his shirt pocket.

  "Let me know if you need anything, Dante," Enzo said. "You know this is your home."

  Dante patted Enzo on the back as they shook hands. I couldn't help but wonder if Dante slipped Enzo some cash too, but I didn't see anything. Sitting down, I couldn't believe I was in such a beautiful place having my first date with a gorgeous man.

  The way the crowd parted for him, the way Enzo and everyone treated him simply made him sexier to me. He could be there with any woman he wanted, but he chose me, and I had a feeling he was showing me off. I had never felt so alive and happy in my life.

  Shortly after we sat down, a short stocky man in a grey suit came over with the real life equivalent of a Barbie doll dangling from his arm. His cologne almost knocked me off my chair. He grinned stupidly before putting his hand on Dante's shoulder.

  "This guy," he said. "This guy right here. The stories this guy could tell you."

  Dante shook his head as he laughed. "Gia, this is Marty Mannino. We grew up together. Marty, Gia Carlisi."

  "Carlisi? You're not related to that douche Terry Carlisi, are you?"

  Marty was so brash, so Brooklyn, I couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, he's my brother."

  "Oh man, it's a shame what happened to him. No wonder he went on the skids."

  "Marty, this isn't the time," Dante said.

  "No, tell me. What do you mean it's no wonder?" I asked.

  "You didn't hear this from me, but that wife of his, maron! He came home and found her in bed with another man. She might as well have cut his balls off! No wonder that did him in. She was too hot for him anyway."

  "Gabby? She did that? Wow," I said.

  I couldn't believe it. I didn't know Gabby that well when she and Terry got married, but she always rubbed me the wrong way. I felt bad for Terry and hoped he'd be able to straighten himself out soon. Most of all, I hoped he was okay. I hadn't heard from him since he disappeared after the funeral.

  Marty looked around and made hand motions at the busboy from earlier. He rushed over with another table and lined it up next to ours, then set the table. Marty shoved a folded wad of cash into the busboy's pocket and then he and his Barbie sat down.

  Dante reached across the table and stroked my fingers. Our eyes met and I could tell he wasn't expecting for us to have company, so I smiled and shrugged slightly to let him know it was okay. I would've preferred having time alone with him, but I hoped with an old friend like Marty there I'd be able to find out more about my mysterious man.

  As Marty made himself comfortable, another couple entered the room, and Marty stood up and waved them over.

  "What do you know? It's like a reunion here tonight," Marty said as he pushed his chair closer to Dante to make room for the new couple.

  "I should've known better than to come here," Dante said.

  "Lighten up!" Marty said. "That's what happens in the Army, they suck all the fun outta you. This guy was the biggest cut up. And cocky as hell. Remember when we used to run errands for this place?"

  Dante nodded. "We don't have to go into that, do we?"

  Marty laughed. I was over the moon and soaking in any bit I could learn. The other couple joined us, a man around Dante and Marty's age but with dirty blond hair and his date a dark-haired girl with big hair.

  "Well lookie here! The prodigal son has come home!" He patted Dante on the back then pulled the chair out for his date to sit. "And of course you're here, Marty. This guy never misses a meal. And who is this lovely lady? Pardon my manners, miss. I'm Salvatore Rossi."

  He put his hand out and I thought he wanted to shake hands so I extended my hand. Bowing slightly, he kissed the top of my hand. />
  "That's enough, Sally," Dante growled from across the table.

  Salvatore let go of my hand and put his hands up. "Oh you don't have to go there, do you, Dante? I've never known you to act so jealous before," he said, grinning.

  "Gia," Marty said, "you have to excuse Sal, but he likes to think he's Romeo. That mutt mind of his never seems to learn."

  "Learn what?" Sal asked. "To not mess with the boss? But it's so much fun to do." He grinned at Dante, who shot him a look that made Sal quickly sit down in the seat next to me.

  "I was just talking about when we used to run errands for this place back in the old days," Marty said to Sal.

  "Oh geez, remember that? Those were the days, right Dante? We thought we were invincible back then," Sal said.

  "But you weren't," big hair said. "Gia, I'm Mona. Sal's wife, Marty's sister, and Dante's first kiss. Isn't that right, Dante?" She smiled across the table at him as if she deserved an award.

  "Gimme a break, Mona," Marty said. "I'm lucky you weren't my first kiss the way you got around."

  "Hey!" Sal said. "That's my wife you're talking about." He then turned towards me and grinned. "So Gia, tell me more about you."

  Mona elbowed him, and he straightened up and rubbed his arm dramatically.

  "She's a Carlisi," Marty said.

  "Really? I knew Carlo back in the day," Sal said. "Good guy."

  "Yeah, but not a goodfella," Marty said. "Not that there's a reason to hold that against him. He could've been made, but he gave it up."

  "Lots of people give it up," Mona said. "They're not cut out for it. Look at our guy Dante here. He ran away to the Army."

  "A lotta good that did him, right Dante?" Marty said. "They tossed your ass."

  "I didn't run away," Dante said.

  "But you agree they tossed your ass."

  Dante didn't say anything, but I was dying to know more. I was literally at the edge of my seat, so happy that even if he didn't want to open up, I was learning so much about him.

  "What happened?" I asked.

  "He fucked up," Sal said.

  "No, he was a hero," Mona said. "Dante's always been the strong silent type, but secretly he's sensitive. I got it right, didn't I?" She grinned as she leaned back in her chair, pleased with herself. "Dante enlisted because of what happened with Tony."

  "Wow, Tony," Marty said. "May he rest in peace."

  "What happened to Tony?" I asked.

  The table got quiet. Even Mona looked down at her plate. Sal cleared his throat and put his arm around the back of my chair before he started speaking.

  "We were on our way back from an errand for the family, if you know what I mean. We were outta our league really, but Dante was being groomed so we got special consideration. Things went south and Tony took a bullet."

  "She doesn't need to hear about this," Dante said.

  "He and Tony were tight. Tighter than us if you can believe that," Marty said. "Dante enlisted the next day."

  "But he came back," Mona said.

  "I didn't have a choice," Dante said.

  "Dante here needs to realize how good he has it," Marty said. "Not everyone is born with that silver spoon."

  Several waiters appeared with food. I didn't remember anyone ordering anything, but they all acted as if that was normal. They placed huge plates of chicken, pasta, and salad in the center of the table family style. Everyone began serving themselves. Dante made a plate with a sampling of everything at the table and handed it to me.

  "This will be the best Italian you've ever had," he said, smiling. "Let me know if you want more of anything."

  The rest of the night Marty cracked jokes and Sal flirted with everything in a skirt. I still had so many questions, but I was happy with what little I was able to learn. Deep down a part of me wanted proof that Dante really was a good guy, despite his being a goodfella. I needed to know I wasn't just trying to convince myself of something because he saved me, and I got my confirmation of that.

  ***

  Dante seemed more at ease as Sonny drove us home. My mind spun with the details of the night. Of Dante's being groomed, of him being born with a silver spoon, and of Dante's running away to the Army. I wondered how true all of it was.

  Once we were back in the penthouse I followed him into the kitchen where he grabbed a couple bottles of water.

  "What happened in the Army?" I asked. "Is that where you got that scar?"

  "I've got lots of scars," he said. "But the one on my chest, yes, I got that while I was away."

  He uncapped his water bottle and took a long drink before leaning against the counter. His mind was churning. I could see he wasn't sure how much he should say or whether he should say anything at all. I didn't push, I stayed quiet and let him think while I sat on one of the counter stools.

  "They're right, you know," he said. "I did run away. Tony dying made everything too real. Before we were just fucking around and having fun, we didn't realize what we were doing. Maybe they still don't, but I did and still do.

  "This isn't the kind of life anyone should want. Marty and I grew up with this. Sal kind of got roped in, but he'll never be made. We did what we were told and thought we were invincible. Maybe we were, but Tony wasn't.

  "I didn't want this life. Joining the Army was the only way I saw to get out of it, but I was wrong. You know they test you? Well, they took me. I was already a killer then and they made me even more lethal. They made me even better at what I do. They taught me more about weapons, they taught me about bombs, they trained me to destroy my enemy. In the end, I couldn't."

  He looked down at the floor and was quiet. His face was soft and full of emotion, his eyes the color of a calm sea. I wanted to walk over and hold him and tell him everything was all right, but I needed to know what haunted him.

  "What happened?" I asked softly.

  "I was in Afghanistan. Mostly I was dismantling bombs, land mines, and such. The things I saw..." He shook his head and looked down as if reliving it all over again. "The scar. I was trying to save a child who was trapped under some debris from a building after a car bomb went off. I wasn't thinking. I was careless. When I lifted the piece of the wall he was trapped under, an IED went off, killing him and wounding me.

  "I spent a week there until I was stable enough to handle the flight home. There's still some debris in here," he said as he touched his chest. "But they'd probably kill me if they tried to remove it all."

  My jaw went slack. I couldn't believe all he had gone through. Thinking about his cold stone face and frozen eyes when he rescued me at the house, I understood.

  "I was honorably discharged after that," he said. "So some people call me a hero, but whatever. I didn't do anything. If anything, I went against my orders." He unbuttoned his shirt and stepped closer to me and brought my hand to his bare chest. "If you wait long enough, you'll feel my heart doesn't beat regularly anymore. It'll skip and slow down, but they say I'm fine. There were plenty of other people out there who weren't as lucky as me."

  He pressed my hand to his chest just above the worst of the scar. The skin was smooth and warm, but I couldn't help but think of all the hurt that was hidden underneath. Squeezing my hand tighter to him, I suddenly felt it, a series of rapid beats then a pause.

  Leaning in towards me, he brushed his lips against mine and I reached up to touch his face. He pressed his forehead against mine before kissing me again. His mouth was cold from the water, and the slow movement of his tongue as it slipped past my lips took my breath away. He stepped around from the counter, pushed my legs apart, and pulled me tight against him.

  His erection pressed against my stomach as his hands ran along my back and his lips wandered along my neck. I felt dizzy and wanted him more than anything. I pushed his jacket off his shoulders and he quickly removed it, dropping it and his shirt to the floor.

  His mouth claimed mine again and my arms wrapped around his body like they had a mind of their own. His back was so powerful and muscular
, I ran my hand up it, feeling his strength. My finger caught on a bandage and I pulled away from him.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were hurt," I said.

  "It's nothing," he said, kissing my neck.

  "Then why do you have a bandage? Let me see it. I want to make sure you're alright."

  He stepped back. His eyes had changed and grown cold. What did I do? I thought to myself. Did I say something? Do something wrong?

  "The world is an interesting place," he said. "People have a lot of different beliefs and as you grow older, you'll take what you think sounds good and ignore the rest." He reached behind and pulled the bandage off his back. "There are cultures who believe you carry the souls of the dead with you. These can be people you loved, but sometimes it's those you wronged."

  He turned around to throw the bandage into the trash, and I saw what it covered. He wasn't injured or wounded, not physically at least. The bandage was over three new crows that had been added to his tattoo. Slowly, it dawned on me that crows symbolized death.

  "Your tattoo. The crows?" I said, unable to make much sense.

  "It's late. Let's go to bed."

  He walked out of the kitchen, leaving me on the stool. I couldn't move. The room spun. He didn't say it, but he didn't need to--each of those crows represented a death he was responsible for. There had to be hundreds of crows in different sizes on his back. Hundreds of people he had killed.

  But did that make him any different of a man than he was just a few minutes before? No. If anything, it showed that it wasn't easy for him to do what he did. He wasn't some cold-blooded killer, who took pleasure in the deaths he caused. It was just something he did well. When it came to being a hit man, a Soldier, he didn't have a choice.

  Hopping down from the stool, I caught up to him in the hallway. I touched his back gently and he turned to look at me, his eyes gentle. As I opened my arms, he moved into my embrace and tucked his face into my neck. He inhaled deeply and his body relaxed against mine.