Ricardo

by Marita A. Hansen

  “And you’ll give me another.”

  “No, Ricardo, that’s dangerous.”

  “When I lose control I become dangerous.”

  “I still won’t give it to you, you’ll overdose. Maybe something’s wrong with this new batch. I’ll check it for you.”

  “Grazie, I appreciate that.”

  “You’re welcome, mas... Ricardo,” she said, quickly correcting herself. He had to constantly remind her not to call him master, but she couldn’t help herself.

  He nodded at her. “I should get back to work.”

  She didn’t move.

  Ricardo sighed, now becoming frustrated with her. “Is there more?”

  “Sì.” She started fidgeting with her hands again. “I overheard your mother talking to Salvatore, saying that he should take over as the Don. She told him that you’re too dangerous to hold such a powerful position.”

  Anger flashed across his mind. His mother was impossible. “Where and when did you hear this? And what did Salvatore say?”

  “It was a couple of hours ago. I was passing Salvatore’s office when I heard arguing. I wanted to tell you sooner, but you were with your nieces. I know I shouldn’t have listened in, but they were talking about you, and I didn’t like what I overheard. Salvatore wasn’t happy either. He turned your mother down, telling her that you’re the best man for the job. She started shouting at him, saying that only Brando and Alessandro were good sons, and that you and Salvatore are too spoilt to appreciate everything she does for the famiglia.” Lisa lowered her eyes. “Of course you’re not spoilt; you’re everything a man should be, I’m just reiterating what she said.”

  Ricardo placed his spoon down. “Don’t be concerned, it’s important for me to know, so if this happens again, don’t hesitate in telling me.”

  She nodded. “I will leave you in peace now,” she said, backing out.

  As soon as the door closed, his mind instantly went to his mother. He knew she wasn’t going to stop until she got what she wanted, regardless of what information he had on her. He just had to find a different way to control her—or carry through on his threat about Brando’s father.

  9

  Ricardo left his office, wanting to talk to Salvatore about what their mother had said. He veered down the next passage, and knocked on Salvatore’s door. When his brother didn’t answer, he headed for the lounge. A maid turned to look at him as he crossed the floor, someone he didn’t recognize. He went to her, wondering whether she was his new helper. She did a small curtsy, her dowdy black uniform unable to hide her toned figure. She was a stunning woman, with eyes as black as onyx and long brown hair, which she had pulled back into a ponytail, showing off her exotic features. His mind went to Bianca, thinking no woman could compare to her. Still, the maid was a wet dream, which surprised him. After the twins had come to blows over a servant, Salvatore had placed a blanket rule that only unattractive women were hired.

  The maid smiled at Ricardo. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Don,” she said, her accent sounding Arabic.

  “You know me?”

  “Of course, I’ve seen your photo in the newspaper.”

  He nodded. “What’s your name?”

  “Isis Massari. This is my first day. I was told that I’m to take over as your personal maid.”

  “It’s good to hear my brother’s finally hired someone,” he ran a hand over his beard, “as you can see I’m in desperate need of a shave. I’m assuming you’ve been informed about my condition.”

  She nodded. “I’m also a trained nurse, so if you need me in any other capacity, I would be very happy to help.”

  “I have my own nurse, but I’ll keep you in mind if she’s unavailable. Anyway, please have my bath drawn by eight.”

  “Certainly.” She gave a seductive smile. “I’ll have everything prepared for you.”

  He smiled back; amused she was flirting with him. “Well, I have things to do.”

  “I’ll see you at eight then.”

  He nodded, then headed for the staircase, glancing over his shoulder as the maid disappeared out the back door. He wondered why Salvatore had forsaken his own rule, because the twins would definitely fight over her. Although she was more Brando’s type, his brother liking Middle Eastern women. Not wanting to think about the stronzo, he started climbing the staircase, turning at the sound of his name.

  Dominic appeared through the archway, looking pleased with himself. “I’ve found where your woman’s attackers are.”

  Ricardo headed back down the stairs. “Bianca’s not my woman.”

  Dominic’s eyebrows rose. “So, I can hit on her then?”

  “Only if you want me to hit you.”

  Dominic grinned, the knowing look in his eyes irritating Ricardo. He knew what his brother was thinking—that he was interested in Bianca. Maybe he was, but he had no intention of acting on it.

  “So, where are her attackers?” Ricardo said instead. “I told you to bring them to me.”

  Dominic handed over a slip of paper. “They weren’t there at the time, but they will be tonight.”

  Ricardo looked down at the address, narrowing his eyes. “That’s a Rosso strip joint. I thought the Donatelli were all in hiding.”

  Dominic grimaced, all humor now gone. “Looks like the Landi spoke the truth about the Rossos helping the Donatelli.”

  “But, they wouldn’t forsake us for the Donatelli scum.”

  “Well, they have,” Dominic said, now looking upset. “And we put our famiglia in danger for those worthless pieces of merda.”

  “Sergio’s a good man,” Ricardo said, referring to his sister’s Rosso husband.

  “True, I can’t see him helping the Donatelli; he hates them as much as the Landi. Maybe the bottom-feeders were trying to make a play for leadership. I could imagine the Donatelli promising them the world and the dumbasses falling for it.”

  Ricardo nodded. “Sì, power play causes no end of trouble,” he said, thinking about what his mother and Brando were doing, “which means we need to root out the culprits. After we get back from the strip joint, I’ll talk to Sergio about it. I’ll watch his reaction, and if he shows even an iota of guilt, he will be dealt with.”

  Dominic nodded. They all liked Sergio, but they couldn’t have a traitor amongst them. Ricardo just hoped that Sergio wasn’t one, because he didn’t want to kill his sister’s husband.

  “So,” Dominic said, “what time do you want the soldiers ready?”

  “In ten minutes. I need to meet some clients; we can go to the strip joint after that.”

  “Onto it.”

  As Dominic went to organize the soldiers, Ricardo turned to go upstairs, stopping at the sight of Bianca. She was standing near the top of the staircase, watching him with a guarded expression. Even bruised and scraped she looked stunning. His eyes lowered to the bruises around her neck. Anger brighter than the color red flashed across his mind. He was going to kill Malik for touching her, along with Tito.

  He resumed climbing the staircase, stopping on the step below Bianca. Regardless, he still towered over her. She stared up at him, her eyes wide, probably from the memory of what they’d done earlier—of how close he’d come to fucking her.

  “Are you well?” he asked, wanting to run his fingers down her cheek again, to see if he could still feel her smooth skin.

  She nodded.

  “Bene, and I’ll make sure it stays that way.” He went to place a hand on her arm, then stopped, knowing it wasn’t wise to touch her again. “I have to leave, but if you need anything just ask a servant.”

  “Grazie, Ricardo.”

  He smiled, his name on her lips giving him pleasure. “Ciao, cara.” He slipped past her, willing himself not to look back. He was her protector, not her lover. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by anything, not even if it was blonde and beautiful, and made him feel for the first time in eight years.

  ***

  Bianca had heard everything that Ricardo had said
about the men who’d attacked her. She knew he was going to kill them, and she wasn’t going to stop him, which made her a hypocrite, considering how much she’d hated that side of his life when they were younger. Although he’d tried to hide it from her, he was unable to stop her from seeing the fear in people’s eyes when he walked past and the whispers that he was a hitman. And he was still a stone-cold killer—something that would never change.

  She glanced up the staircase as he disappeared around the corner, also knowing what it was like to kill someone, though her crime had been an accident. She’d wanted her husband dead, not the Donatelli heir. Alberto had raped her lover, another man, and if she’d had Ricardo’s power, she would’ve tortured him before taking his life. She breathed out, knowing she was no different from Ricardo.

  “Nice to see you again, Bianca,” someone said.

  She turned around, the rocker at the bottom of the staircase giving her a cheeky grin. He was wearing low-riding jeans, his boxers saving her from seeing far too much. He also had on a T-shirt, which partially covered his tattooed arms. Stylized swirls of water decorated one of them, while a mixture of images covered the other.

  “Nice to see you too, Vinnie,” she said.

  “It’s Dominic.”

  She grimaced. “Sorry, I could never tell you two apart.”

  “My tattoos are different.”

  “You didn’t have them the last time I was here.”

  “True, though, if you want to tell us apart, just remember I’m the pierced one.” He flicked his tongue out at her, the piercing making her smile. He also had a small bullring and a piercing on his left brow.

  “I’ll take note of that from now on,” she replied.

  “I also have the same piercing as Alessandro. He copied me.” His eyes danced playfully, his grin growing. “I’d love to show you it, but Ricardo would rip it out. Pity he has a thing for you, because you’re smoking hot.”

  She didn’t have a clue what piercing he was referring to and didn’t care either, what he’d said about Ricardo the only thing catching her attention. “He doesn’t have a thing for me,” she said, hoping Dominic would disagree with her.

  His smile disappeared. He headed up the staircase, stopping in front of her. “If you do get with Ricardo you need to know one thing: he doesn’t like sex,” he lowered his voice. “He told me he hated fucking his last lover because he couldn’t feel her touch. He had to pretend so he didn’t hurt her feelings.”

  “Are you talking about Ghita Donatelli?”

  He nodded. “Contrary to what everyone believes, I don’t think he was in love with her. I think he’s always held a candle for you, which was why he agreed to let you stay here.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

  “Because I was hoping you could make him happy. He pretends he isn’t lonely, but I can see it. Just the way he looks at Rosa and Salvatore is enough proof. I think he wants what they have—a loving relationship. Maybe you can give him that, just without the sex side of things.”

  Bianca shook her head. “I don’t want to be with any man, and especially not one who can’t feel me,” she said, her mind returning to what Ricardo had said. Had he been lying to her about being able to feel her, pretending like he had with Ghita? It hurt to think he would do that, but with what Dominic had said, it didn’t sound good.

  Dominic’s blue eyes twinkled mischievously. “Then if you’re not into men, I can set you up with some women, just as long as you let me watch.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. “The rumors about you are so true.”

  “Which rumors? The one about me being the best ride in town or the one about my massive cock? Because those are definitely true.”

  She laughed. “You’re such a clown.”

  “No, I’m being serious.” He looked down at his crotch, then back up with a grin. “I can show you proof.”

  “Keep your proof to yourself, cheeky.”

  “Oh, come on, women love seeing gold rings.” He stopped talking as footfalls came from upstairs. Bianca glanced over her shoulder. Ricardo was descending the staircase, the holster he was wearing ominous.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, his hard gaze narrowing in on Dominic.

  “My Prince Albert and how Alessandro’s a copycat.” Dominic started laughing as he headed back down the staircase. He disappeared into a passageway, yelling, “The soldiers are ready.”

  Ricardo’s gaze shot to Bianca, his eyebrows quirking. “You were talking about his Prince Albert?”

  “I didn’t know what he was referring to.”

  A smile curved those lovely lips of his. “He’s lying; he’s the one who copied Alessandro. Dominic does everything Alessandro does, thinking it’ll get him more women. I’ve seen him hit on females, telling them he’s Alessandro’s brother just to get sex.” He shook his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement, lighting up his whole face.

  Bianca smiled back, taken by how lovely he looked. What Dominic had said crept back in, wiping her smile away. Again, she wondered whether Ricardo had lied about being able to feel her touch.

  Noise came from the front of the house, capturing her attention. Brando and Vinnie walked under the archway, one looking angry, the other amused.

  Vinnie’s amused look shifted to Ricardo, “Hey, bro, where’s my evil twin? I got our band a gig for tonight.”

  “You’ve been told enough times you’re not to work any gigs, so cancel it,” Ricardo snapped. “We’re in the middle of a war, and in case your small brain has forgotten, our brother was murdered yesterday.”

  Brando cut in, “Just because Valentino shared blood doesn’t make him our brother. He was a stranger to us.”

  Ricardo barreled down the staircase. “He was our brother, so show his memory the respect it deserves!” he yelled in Brando’s face, his reaction over the top.

  Brando straightened, looking ready for a fight. “Like you’re showing our madre respect? I heard how you spoke to her. You’ve no right to do that after all she’s done for our famiglia.”

  “Apparently she’s been doing a lot. We were only dealing arms when our father was in control, now she has us transporting sex slaves, dealing drugs, and pimping prostitutes.”

  “What?!” Vinnie yelled behind Brando. “We don’t do that shit.”

  Ricardo’s gaze moved to Vinnie. “Brando and our mother decided that we do.” His eyes moved back to Brando. “But it ends now. I contacted the D’Angelo Don. We’re no longer transporting, and with the Rossos on the run, the drug and prostitution sides of the business are over too. And you’re NOT to speak to me in that manner again. I’m your Don.”

  Brando pushed his face right up to Ricardo’s. “You won’t be for long. Our madre wants me to be Don.”

  “She asked Salvatore earlier and he turned her down flat, so you must be her back-up plan.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “Go ask Salvatore then.”

  Brando’s eyes flashed. “It doesn’t matter. She wants me in the job now.”

  “So she can pull your strings like a puppet.”

  “I’m not her puppet! And I should be the Don.”

  Ricardo’s voice came out low, “Back off now before you make me do something I might regret.”

  Brando prodded Ricardo’s chest with a finger. “You’re the one who needs to back down. I have both our parents’ approval.”

  “I highly doubt you have our padre’s, he doesn’t even know what’s up or down, if anything, he probably thinks he was speaking to me.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m the Don, end of story.”

  Without warning, Ricardo head-butted Brando, sending him crashing backwards into Vinnie, Brando’s yell of pain loud. Ricardo surged forward, grabbing Brando by the neck. Brando hit out, punching Ricardo in the side of his head, while his other hand grappled to free himself. Ricardo didn’t react to the blow, instead his knee shot out, striking Brando in the stomach. He
then threw a coughing and spluttering Brando across the floor, ignoring the blood dripping down his own face. Vinnie rushed forward, yelling at Ricardo to stop.

  Ricardo pushed him aside. “Now it’s your turn, Brando,” he said, holding his arms out wide. “Give me your best shot.”

  “He already hit you!” Vinnie yelled, stepping in front of him. “You’re bleeding all over the place, so stop this merda!”

  “Obviously the pussy can’t punch, because I felt nothing.” He shoved Vinnie aside again. “So, hit me like a Don this time, Brando, and see whether I fall like you did—a weak excuse of a man who uses an old woman to get what he wants.”

  Looking furious, Brando pushed to his feet and surged forward, punching Ricardo in the face. Ricardo took a step back, the blood coming from his nose showing how hard Brando had hit. But instead of crying out in pain, he laughed. “I didn’t feel it, not even a breath.”

  Brando yelled out, throwing another punch, this one striking Ricardo’s cheek. Ricardo stepped to the side, but he still didn’t flinch, the nasty smile on his face fixed firmly. He slowly licked the blood running over his lip, making a show of it. “I’m still standing, while you fell. You aren’t a leader; you’re merely a child prone to throwing tantrums.”

  Brando clenched his right hand, looking like he wanted to hit Ricardo again, but it remained at his side. “That’s because you can’t feel,” he spat. “It’s the only reason you’re so strong. You’re a psychotic bastardo who should be in a mental hospital, not the head of this famiglia!”

  “Technically, I’m not psychotic.” Ricardo gave him an evil smile, ironically looking like he was. “And I’m here to stay, so either leave this house or concur to my rule.”

  Brando sneered. “I’d rather leave than allow you to lead.”

  “Then pack your bags.”

  “Wait until our madre hears about this.”

  “You truly are a child. Go on, run to her, and while you’re there ask her about Jagger’s parents.”

  Brando went still, his expression shaken. “Why?”

  “Just do it and see who she backs as Don.”

  “What happened to the D’Angelos was an accident.”