Mine (Citrione Crime Family #2)

by Penelope Bloom

  As if on cue, the rain starts to die down. I lean against the car, still naked and hard. I fold my arms and grin at her. “You had better go grab those keys.”

  She gives me a wry smile and tries to pick up her clothes. I beat her to it, picking them up and holding them close to my chest in a tight ball. “I’d rather watch you go searching for them naked.”

  She tries once more to grab for the clothes.

  “I’ll throw them up in the tree if you don’t get to looking for those keys.”

  Finally, Callie smirks at me and tiptoes into the wet grass, perfect ass shaking with each step. I love every second of it, watching as she eventually bends over and gives me a ridiculous view. I realize I have no intention of making this my only time with her. I feel like I just took a huge gulp of water and it only made me thirstier. What is this woman doing to me?

  8

  Callie

  I take a sip of the expensive wine, feeling guilty. Julia doesn’t seem to have any of my reservations, and she’s enjoying herself thoroughly, drinking freely and asking the waiter to bring extra bread. The place is called Seasons ‘84. I know it must be expensive, because there aren’t even prices listed on the menu. I’m no stranger to fancy restaurants. Greg always thought he could buy his way out of trouble. Not returning my calls? How about some jewelery? Forgetting we were supposed to meet for a date? Let’s go somewhere really expensive tomorrow. It never made any difference. If anything, it just pissed me off even more, but he didn’t pay enough attention to notice.

  “So you and Damian must be getting pretty serious for him to treat you to a place like this.”

  I frown, swirling the wine in my glass. “Not exactly. He’s been trying to get me to go on a real date with him and I’ve been stalling. I guess he thought this would be charming. If I won’t go somewhere nice with him, he’ll send me with you.”

  Julia’s face falls a little.

  I sigh. “I’m sorry, Julia. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m really glad you and I are getting the chance to do this together. It just rubs me the wrong way that he thinks he can buy me.”

  She smiles. “No. It’s fine. I completely understand. But hey, I’ve always said if a guy is going to try to buy you, make sure he knows it won’t be cheap.”

  I smirk. “I’m really not interested in all that. Hell, I don’t even know what I want.”

  “What’s not to want?” she asks as she spreads some butter on her bread.

  “Speaking of wanting, all we ever do is talk about me. What about you? What do you want?”

  Her cheeks redden a little. She’s so frank and straightforward that I’m surprised to see her get embarrassed over anything.

  “All I really want now is to just make it to the next paycheck.”

  Something in her tone says she’s holding back, and even though I’m not sure she wants me to ask, I decide to push it. “That’s all you want now. What did you want before?”

  She smiles sadly, looking down at her empty glass. “I was going to school to be a psychologist, but I ran out of money to pay for my last semester of undergrad. I told myself the bartender thing was just temporary until I got back on my feet, but that was two years ago. Now they are telling me more than half the credits I already earned are going to expire next year. And...well, I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s pointless and I’m done feeling sorry for myself. Sometimes you just have to move on.”

  “Hey, don’t say that. You still have a year. You can totally pull that off.”

  “Yeah, totally,” she says, shoulders slumping, her tone dejected. She sighs and then perks up. “So you said Damian is trying to get you to go on a real date. That means you guys had an unreal date.”

  She gives me a smirk so scandalous I can’t help but laugh. Like usual when the topic is Damian, my mood quickly sours when my thoughts pass from his perfect body to the dangerous life he lives. “We, well,” I say, pausing to find the right words. “Spent some time together. I just don’t know if I can keep seeing him.” I don’t know how to say what I’m thinking. What does she know? Maybe she has guessed, but when I think about confiding in her and explaining what I saw with the two men and the guns...it feels like a bad idea. The memory of how Damian reacted at the mention of cops keeps flashing in my mind.

  Julia smiles knowingly. “It’s the criminal thing. You think he’s a mobster or something.”

  I laugh nervously. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. Everybody talks about it. They say he’s some kind of loose cannon in the criminal underground. I don’t know, and personally, I wouldn’t really care. I think good guys are overrated.”

  “I’m not so sure. Maybe there’s something to be said for not having to worry if your boyfriend is going to get shot.”

  She shrugs. “I’m just saying that I wouldn’t let a guy like him slip away. He’s not going to wait forever. Do you really want to be forty and looking back on this, wondering what it would have been like to be with him?”

  As much as I hate to admit it, she has a point. Maybe I should just take a leap of faith, even if it’s a reckless one, and give him a chance.

  All the lanes in the bowling alley are lit with black lights, making the pins glow neon green. The walls are covered in fluorescent murals of zombies and mutated animals. The music is loud and pulsing, and almost every lane is packed with groups of laughing teens and young adults. I’m almost surprised when I remember that Damian is standing beside me.

  I glance guiltily at him again, admiring the way he manages to make jeans and a t-shirt look nicer than most guys can make a suit and tie look. His hair is casually pushed away from his face, but a few stray strands dangle over his forehead in a way that is effortlessly sexy. The muscles of his legs press against the jeans, begging to be touched and making it impossible not to think back to how his cock felt inside me. His completely, unprotected cock.

  Remembering that I let him inside me without protection still makes me feel like a complete idiot. I don’t know what I was thinking. My period is due in about a week, and I’m already having nightmares about the decisions I’ll have to make if it doesn’t come. How did my boring, but predictable life turn into such a mess so quickly?

  Damian’s possessive hand on my shoulder distracts me from everything else. He leads me the front where we are supposed to pick up our bowling shoes. The guy behind the counter’s eyes bulge when he sees Damian. “Mr. Citrione,” he says.

  “She’s a size eight,” says Damian.

  The guy nods and rushes to the back without asking Damian’s size. He returns with two pairs of bowling shoes. “You’re all set, sir.”

  Damian leads me toward an open alley. “You don’t have to pay here?” I ask.

  “He owes me a couple favors.”

  Something about that gives me an uneasy chill. How did I let Julia talk me into this? Yes, he’s unbelievably gorgeous. Yes, he’s charming. But he’s trouble in every sense of the word. I don’t know what to expect when I’m with him. One minute we driving and the next he’s punching through somebody’s window and shooting a guy in the hand. He actually shot somebody right in front of me and here I am going bowling with him? I really must be losing it. I already have so much instability in my life. I just don’t know if I can handle any more. Greg has still been trying to call every day, even at odd hours of the morning. I’m pretty sure I saw him sitting in a parked car outside Aubriella’s house the other day, too.

  Damian plugs our names into the bowling computer, which seems like it hasn’t been upgraded in twenty years. He goes and picks out a bright pink ball for me and a black ball for himself.

  “Are you trying to get an advantage by giving me such a light ball?” I ask.

  He raises his eyebrows. “You want to pick your own? Be my guest.”

  I go set the pink ball down, moving past a group of young kids to find a heavier red ball. I test the weight, and it is a little heavier than I’m used to, but the stubborn part
of me wants to prove I can handle it. I show him the ball and try to give my best, ‘what do you think of that’ look.

  He laughs. “Ladies first.”

  I take a deep breath, suddenly nervous that I’m going to gutterball it. I’ve always been a decent bowler, but it would be just my luck to make a fool of myself in front of him. I roll the ball down and it looks like it’s going straight for the gutter at first, but it starts to curve and eventually hooks into the pins, knocking all but one down.

  “Yes!” I yell, jumping a few times and shaking my fists.

  Damian covers his mouth, trying not to laugh at me.

  My face reddens and I try to walk back with as much dignity as I can muster, waiting for my ball to come back in the return rack. My next shot is nowhere near the pin, which makes Damian get a cocky smirk on his face.

  He lifts his ball, walking toward the pins. I can’t help noticing how good his broad, muscular back and tight ass look. His powerful hands and forearms are corded and cut with so much muscle that I have trouble taking my eyes away from them. I’m suddenly sure he’s going to bowl strike after strike. He winds up and takes his shot, but the ball instantly thumps into the gutter.

  “Shit!” he yells.

  Now it’s my turn to laugh. My laughter cuts short when someone taps my shoulder. My heart nearly stops with fright, and when I turn to see Greg, my stomach clenches. He looks like shit. His hair is a mess and there’s a stain on his shirt.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  He scowls. “I could ask you the same thing. I didn’t realize you were such a slut.”

  Damian is beside me, his presence comforting and frightening at the same time. More than anything, I’m worried he’s going to do something stupid, like hurt Greg, even though part of me wants him to.

  “Fuck off,” says Damian.

  Greg steps forward, jabbing a finger into Damian’s chest. “She’s my fiancée, pal. I don’t know who you—”

  Damian’s hand closes around Greg’s. The muscles in Damian’s arm stand out powerfully, veins growing more pronounced as the two men lock eyes. Greg’s look of confidence quickly dissolves to panic.

  “Let me go.”

  Damian glances at me. To my surprise, he lets Greg go, even if he does look reluctant about it.

  Greg holds his hand to his chest, cradling it like it’s broken. “You think you’re tough, right? Well, I had my people look into your criminal record. There is so much dirt on you that I could get you put away with as little as a word.”

  Damian takes a step closer until it’s clear how much he towers over Greg. “Let me make one thing clear. The only thing keeping me from smashing your bleached teeth on this computer is Callie. Why don’t you fuck off to your trust fund and never come back.”

  Greg grits his teeth. “She is mine.”

  I step forward and slap him hard across the face. The stunned look of disbelief he gives me is more satisfying than I could have imagined. I almost laugh, but the rage in my chest is enough to keep me from breaking. “I’m not yours. I’m not anybody’s thing anymore. You decided that when you couldn’t keep your little dick in your pants.”

  He clenches his fists, but looks at Damian and apparently decides he’ll have to settle for clenching his teeth. “I’m not done here,” he says before turning and storming off.

  9

  Damian

  I take a look at the group of guys gathered around the restaurant. My guys. It feels good to see shit starting to really come together. I pat Brooks on the back and lean in close so only he can hear. “Anything I need to know about?”

  He gives me an uncertain look. “We had better talk.”

  I nod, clapping him once more on the shoulder and moving to make sure the doors are locked. It’s after-hours, but it never hurts to be careful. God knows I learned that lesson the hard way.

  “You all know not to spend the money, right?”

  There are grumbles and nods around the room. Five guys, including Benny. Guys I hope I can trust.

  “What’s the fucking point of ripping off all that shit if we can’t have some fun with the money?” asks Ramirez. He’s as stupid as they come, but the guy is a maniac with a gun or without one. Nobody fucks with him, and it never hurts to have some muscle in your crew, even if you don’t plan for things to get violent.

  “Have some patience,” I say. “For one, if you start buying shit you don’t normally buy, it’ll risk tipping off the feds. You’ll have to trust me on the rest, but just know that if anyone finds out we did this job, even if it’s just a rumor, it will royally fuck my plan.”

  “You want us to trust you, but you won’t trust us?” asks Franco. He’s a clever kid. Young, ambitious, and the kind of guy I wouldn’t mind having at my right hand when all this comes to a head. He’s also the kind of guy I need to be careful of.

  “Yeah. You got a problem with that? You can walk away and I’ll keep your share of the split.”

  Franco just grins, as if he knew I’d say something like that.

  “Everybody else good?” I ask.

  They all nod and start to stand. “We’ll be in touch.”

  I grab Brooks before they all leave and nod for him to follow me to the back. From the corner of my eye, I see Benny watching us head to the kitchen before he steps outside.

  “So what’s going on?” I ask Brooks, leaning on the stainless steel table the cooks use to roll out dough.

  He’s a big guy with dark purple lips that remind me of a fish. Still, he goes way back with my Pops, and he’s loyal. “It’s Benny,” he says. “I had to meet with family in Jersey the day after we pulled the scam. My uncle took me to his favorite place and I saw Benny sitting at a table for two with a guy who looked a whole hell of a lot like Cristiano Ricci.”

  Ice cold anger seeps into my veins. “You’re sure?”

  “No. It was dark as fuck in there and the two guys got up a few minutes after we were seated. I never got a great look at them, but I’m pretty sure it was Benny, and I’m pretty sure the other guy was Cristiano. I wasn’t even going to say anything about it until today. Benny has been glaring at me like he wants to cut my fucking throat.”

  I nod. “You did good telling me, Brooks. Go on and get out of here. I’ll handle this.”

  Callie shows up for the morning shift a few hours later. I haven’t slept in at least a day, but seeing her gives me a shot of much-needed energy. She has her hair done in some kind of complicated braid and looks ridiculously hot. “I have some good news,” I say.

  “Oh?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow and crossing her arms. Cooks are banging pans around in the back and servers are setting the tables, but no one is paying us any attention in front of the bar.

  “I’m promoting you to the head of marketing.”

  She shakes her head, expression falling. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to promote me just because we’re...I don’t even know.”

  “That’s not why,” I say, irritated that she is throwing my kindness back in my face. “I looked up your work history. You were some a real hotshot in the marketing world. I don’t want to waste your talent behind the bar.”

  Something in her expression shifts. “If you promise this isn’t some scheme to get in my pants again, I’ll consider it.”

  I grin. “I can’t promise that. Waking up in the morning is part of my scheme to get in your pants again.”

  She finally smiles, biting her lip. “Okay, but let’s call it a probationary period. I can walk away at any time. Okay?”

  “If you want to think you can walk away from me, fine. Deal.”

  “When do I start?”

  “Now,” I say, leading her to the back office, where she sits in my chair.

  “How does it feel?” I ask, leaning against the door and grinning.

  “It feels good, actually. Really good. I should probably be afraid to accept any favors from you, but I really appreciate this one. I’ve actually been itching to get back i
nto doing something more challenging. It will help take my mind off things.”

  “You’ve been hearing from him?”

  “Greg?”

  “Yeah. Has he been bothering you still?”

  “Some, I guess. It’s nothing I can’t handle though. Just some texts and stuff like that.”

  “Why don’t you block his number?”

  “I did, but he must have some kind of connection with the phone companies, too. It only lasted a few hours and then the texts started coming back.”

  I frown. Normally, I would think she’s just being paranoid, but I have a guy who keeps an ear to the ground from inside the FBI and he said there’s been heat after my name lately, that one of the higher-ups started showing an interest in me all of the sudden. Coincidentally, I got that call the day after I squeezed little Greg’s hand too hard and pissed him off. I also just happened to get tailed by the Ricci’s the day after I pushed Greg’s face into the door. I guess he really does have powerful friends. Either way, fuck him. I’m not going to let some rich asshole intimidate me.

  “Anyway,” she says. “If you want me to start today, I need to know what my budget is. Advertising is all about money, and without—”

  I cut her off. “Hey. I’ve got money. You just tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen. Okay?”

  She bites her lip. “Five thousand. To start.”

  I laugh. “Jesus Christ. You don’t fuck around. I mean, yeah. If it’s going to take five grand to get this place bringing in more money, then I’ll get you five grand.”

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. “Give me a minute,” I say.

  I leave Callie in the office where I can already hear her furiously typing at the keyboard. I step into the walk-in freezer so she doesn’t overhear. “This is Damian.”