Leave Me Breathless: The Black Rose Collection

by Dakota Willink

  Unable to believe what she’s witnessed, Kristine remained hidden in the closet until she heard the closing of the front door and securing lock. Her head was overwhelmed between the baby and now this. Why would he keep money in the apartment he lent to her and not in the safe in his closet? With more questions than answers, Kristine opened the door. Checking behind every painting in the apartment, she found three more safes and a suspicious door under a rug near the fireplace. Sitting hard in the center of the floor, she needed not to think, and only one thing would grant her the serenity she so desperately needed.

  Kristine found the office comfortably quiet, air flowing through the vents overhead the only sound in the room. With everything that happened yesterday, she’d failed to find time to sort through any more boxes as Sully had asked her to.

  Entering the storage closet, Kristine ripped off the lid of the first box she came to, waving off the dust which flew in her face from the contents. Reaching inside, she pulled out several stacks of canceled checks held together with rubber bands. As she read the information on the first check, the aged rubber band gave way, sending the stack in her hand raining down around her. With a frustrated sigh, she dropped to the floor, Kristine began to pick up the checks when she noticed the same name written in the payee line. Comparing the handful in front of her, she saw they were written for varying amounts, the oldest check dated nearly twenty-five years ago. Returning to the box, Kristine found at least a dozen more stacks, all addressed to the same man. Digging to the bottom of the box, she found a handful of sealed envelopes, written to the same man addressed to a PO box in Missouri, return to sender stamped in red ink across the front.

  Tossing the envelopes into the box, Kristine took one of the checks and returned to her desk, entering her password into the computer. With no one in the building, the internet was surprisingly quick, allowing her to open a search engine and enter the name, Morty Rizzoti, in half the time. Kristine’s eyes grew wide as a black and white photo of a man appeared on the screen, along with several other familiar faces she saw practically every day. Unable to believe what she saw written on the computer, the single word sending chills down her spine.

  Mafia.

  Reaching over, she picked up the check, this time more focused on the signature. Just as the name in the payee line was foreign to her, she’d never heard of the man who authorized the check.

  Moving to type the name into her browser, a hand on her shoulder pulled a scream from her throat, twisting her around to find a familiar set of brown eyes staring back at her.

  “And just what are you looking for?”

  15

  Gino’s leg bounced under the table as his friend and business partner read over the single sheet of paper in his hands.

  “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “My guess is she didn’t know.” Gino offered, covertly checking his phone for any missed calls from Kristine.

  “All this time, Gino. I would have…” Emilio trailed off, emotion clogging his throat, cutting off his words.

  “You should know, I spoke with my mother who denied being asked to keep any news such as this from you before Nicole disappeared.”

  A far-off look took over Emilio’s eyes. “You were too young to remember, my Nicole and your mother were the best of friends, comforting one another when the news of Sully’s birth came about. Nicole traveled back to Sicily to be with your mother when Johnathan confessed to her family of his relationship with Barbara. When she returned, she made me swear to always remain faithful and never put her through what your father did to your mother.”

  Gino stared at the man twice his age, the one who, according to his father and uncle, had taken Nicole right out from under them, forcing Jonathon to seek his mother’s hand.

  “I’m willing to sit on this as long as you need me to.”

  “No, Gino, she needs to be told. I just worry…”

  “About?” Gino prodded, the hairs on the back of his neck rising in concern.

  “I’m guessing your father and mother were too busy trying to kill one another to share with you what happened after my Nicole returned.”

  Folding the page in half, Emilio stuck it in his jacket pocket, leaning back in the aluminum chair.

  “We began to receive threats. Nothing noteworthy at first, but soon they included photographs of Nicole going about her day.” Ignoring the vibrating phone inside his pocket, nothing in this world short of his death was more important than this conversation.

  “No demands, no nothing, just photos and a note saying whoever was sending them was watching. Months went by and the photos increased to the point I had my most trusted man take Nicole to a house we rented under a fictitious name in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly the photos stopped, but I kept her hidden for several more months in case it was a trap. Once I felt certain everything was okay, I jumped on my jet and went to retrieve her.”

  Emilio could still hear his Nicole beg him not to send her away, the tears streaking down her face nearly causing him to cave.

  “When I walked into the house it was as if they got up from the breakfast table and stepped outside. Food was on the table, the coffee in the pot still warm. There was no evidence of forced entry, they’d simply disappeared into thin air.”

  Not a day had gone by Emilio didn’t punish himself for not listening to his wife, his act of protection causing more harm than good.

  “Tell me, Gino, what made you test her DNA?”

  Leaning back in his chair, Gino crossed his arms over his chest. “When Sully arranged her flight, he fucked up and forgot about a meeting he had in Upstate New York, so he called Niko and asked him to pick Kristine up from the airport and take her to the Waldorf. Of course, Niko called me, bitching about how he wasn’t under Sully’s payroll, but agreed to go at my request. I’ll be honest, Emilio, I didn’t like the sound of this girl when Sully told me about her, so I had Niko dig up her background. Funny how all the records he pulled didn’t provide as much as when he laid eyes on her. He swore to me, after he dropped her off, she was Nicole Vittorio’s doppelganger.”

  “Do you have a picture, Gino?”

  Nodding, Gino reached into his pocket, retrieving his phone. He scrolled through his photos until he landed on the one he’d snapped of her walking toward him in the hotel last night.

  “Ah ma-don, it’s my Nicole.” Emilio cried the resemblance unmistakable this was his daughter.

  “Last night, I took her to Sandino’s, where she showed me a ring with your family crest on it,” Gino paused, unsure how much more Emilio could take before demanding to see her. “There was an inscription on the inside, I am my—"

  “Beloved and my beloved is mine.” Emilio finished, having given the ring to his wife on their wedding night.

  Gino nodded in agreeance, “Kristine said she found the ring along with a box of baby pictures in her granny’s things. She assumed the woman found it in a garage sale and put it away.”

  “But you and I both know DNA doesn’t lie, Gino.”

  “Which is why I intentionally got her drunk before calling in an associate who worked for a hospital. He took a swab of her cheek and ran the test.”

  “And where is she now, still at the Waldorf?”

  Gino lowered his head, his eyes dropping to the laces of his Italian shoes. “I um,” he stammered, unsure of how to admit what he’d done. “I moved her to one of the apartments I own in the building, as my girlfriend.”

  Gino let the label hang in the air, his confession could go either way. Either he’d walk away with a congratulation or a demand for him to go through the proper channels.

  “You know what this means, Gino? My daughter will be treated with respect and utmost admiration, not like the disrespectful way your father taught you.”

  Sitting up straight in his chair, “I give you my word I will never bring Kristine intentional pain. Not because of who her father is, but because of who my mother is.”

  Emilio looked at the youn
g man before him, having respected his business sense enough to join forces when he came to him wanting more for his family than his father offered. He’d hated the thought of Gino marrying his niece, but a daughter, even one he never knew existed, was something he would welcome.

  “Coincidence is a funny thing, Gino. Last night I attempted to go to bed after a heated meeting with my brother over my deficiency in demanding you marry Felicia when I received your call. What do you think the odds are of my daughter coming to work for your family, of all the work out there?”

  “I’ve questioned that myself, Emilio. Which is why I need a favor from you.”

  “After what you’ve given me? Name it.”

  “Let’s keep this between us, at least until I can make sure everything is coincidental. Something tells me this is more than finding a needle in a haystack.”

  16

  Jonathan fisted his tan fingers into the thick locks of the young girl with his dick down her throat.

  “Just like that, baby. Take it all.”

  There were few things Jonathan Vitale loved more in life than having his dick sucked. This beautiful girl certainly knew what she was doing, had from the moment she first came through his front door, bitching how the boys in her neighborhood couldn’t please her in bed. He’d fucked her good and hard that day, and every week for the past few years.

  “Play with my balls,” he hissed. “Easy with the nails.”

  Johnathan needed this, anything to take his mind off the clusterfuck of his world. He had one son he couldn’t control; Giovanni was too much like himself, something neither one of them cared to admit. And the second, who was like a fly buzzing around; too fast for him to capture, yet constantly in his face.

  Sully’s mother, Barbara, was the one time he should have pulled out and come all over her tits, or better yet, fucked her mouth like the sweet little girl between his knees.

  Barbara was a dancer in one of his clubs, she was hot, and he was horny. A few months later she’d showed up at his table in another club claiming to be pregnant with his child. He’d blown her off, returning to Sicily where his beautiful wife, Chiara, gave birth to Giovanni. Nearly a year later he came home from a meeting, his bags packed at the door and Barbara sitting on a bench holding a baby with eyes so much like his there was no way he could deny the child. Next thing he knew, he woke up naked, inside his brother-in-law’s office, his hands were tied over his head and one of his eyes was swollen shut. He and Barbara were placed on a jet, surrounded by the men who’d worked beside him the day prior, holding guns to his head before kicking him off the plane, guaranteeing his death if he ever returned.

  “Put a finger in my ass,” he demanded, pulling the girl's hair as he scooted down in his chair, giving her room to do as he instructed.

  Jonathan thanked God every day after that the church refused to grant Chiara a divorce. She was the only woman he would ever love, despite how severely he’d betrayed her. He’d call her once he finished, needing to hear her voice as it brought comfort to his soul.

  Thinking of Chiara, her dark hair and soft features, brought a tingling to his balls, the first sign of his impending orgasm. “Open your throat,” he warned, picturing his wife before he caused her to hate him. It was the night she told him they were expecting, taking his hands and placing them on her still flat stomach. It was the first and last time she told him she loved him. As he pictured her straddling his lap, he felt his release, and then his world went dark.

  “Damn it, Babe!” The woman between Jonathan's flaccid knees cried. “This bra is new, and you got his fucking brains all over it.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll buy you a hundred bras once this is over and the Vitale’s are no more.”

  “Promise?” The young girl questioned the man who’d used her oral skills and Jonathan’s obsession with sex to his advantage. Doing what so many dreamed of by shooting Jonathan Vitale in the head.

  “Have I ever let you down before?”

  The girl shook her head, tucking her bottom lips between her veneered teeth, a gift from the dead man slumped to the side.

  “You know,” the man with the gun still in his hand began, as he rounded the couch. “Watching you take his cock down your throat made me hard as fuck.” Palming his cock with his free hand, the man tossed his gun to the couch beside a still twitching Jonathan.

  With blood and gray matter falling from her chest, the young woman rose to her feet, her ruined bra quickly discarded, beckoning the man with her finger. The girl turned to the wall, placing her body against the mahogany bookshelves. She’d held this position many times as Jonathan would fuck her for hours, the old man had the stamina of a man half his age. Lifting her left leg, she placed her foot on one of the lower bookshelves. Raising her hand to her mouth she licked her fingers and wiped her spit on the opening to her ass.

  “Your turn, baby,” she called, her eyes landing on Jonathan’s dead body. He’d been the one to introduce her to the pleasure of anal sex one afternoon when he wanted to fuck her, but her period came early. Despite how horrible he treated her, she would miss so many things about him. While she gave him endless blowjobs, he taught her how to harness her sexuality, pleasuring herself instead of waiting for the idiot she was fucking to do it for her. He was the first man to be honest with her, telling her to never trust a man who said he loved her as he fucked her.

  The man wasted little time shedding his pants before watching the tight ass of his partner swallow his cock. The intensity of her grip on his dick forced a growl from his throat, tossing his head back, he plunged deeper into her, the force sending several books to the floor.

  Pain like Jonathan had never known flooded his body, his vision limited and blurry. He attempted to cry for help, but nothing came out, only a gurgle from his throat. He couldn’t move, each breath becoming harder than the last. He was dying, slowly and painfully as his Chiara cursed him to do.

  Slamming his eyes shut, he waited for the end, but the sounds in the room forced them open, his eyes landing on the couple fucking against the wall of his office. Despite his limited vision, he recognized the man with his dick up the girl’s ass, his deception hurting more than the bullet swimming around in his head. He needed to leave something behind, a way for his son to find this couple and kill them. Using the last of his strength, Jonathan willed his hand to move, gripping the discarded gun and sealing his hand around the barrel. Knowing the girl as he did, rigor mortis would set in long before she was finished milking him of his last ounce of energy, making it impossible for them to pry the gun from his hand.

  With the metal tight in his grip, Jonathan took a final breath, closed his eyes and whispered, “Chiara.”

  17

  Gino’s day had been one shit-show after another. First, he’d spilled coffee twice on his shirt, then found his car with a flat tire. He’d run late to every meeting due to traffic or his GPS giving him bad directions. To make matters worse, he’d had limited contact with Kristine, the secret he vowed to keep from her eating at his heart.

  Reaching for his phone to call her, he wanted to see how her lunch with Nina had gone. Despite how much he assured her everything would be fine, he couldn’t shake the sound of worry in her voice. Before he could unlock his phone, it began to ring.

  “What?” he answered irritated.

  “Gino, it's Tony. You need to get to your father’s house, it's urgent.”

  “What wrong, old fuck take too much Viagra?”

  “Just get here as fast as you can, man.”

  For the first time in his life, the line went dead on him, something Tony and his fist would have a meeting about.

  Glancing at the clock, his frustration increased when Gino realized he wouldn’t have enough time to drive out to his father’s house and back to the city for his weekly time with the kids from the neighborhood. Blowing off his father wasn’t an option, and with no other options, he placed a call to a man who owed him big time.

  “King,” the man barke
d into the phone, the familiar sounds of the gym echoing in the background.

  “Dude, it’s Gino. I need you to do something for me.”

  “It’s a bad time, man. Can I ring you back later?”

  “Too goddamn bad, you’re on my clock motherfucker. Or would you rather Kane knew about you and his sister?”

  Gino made it point to know everything he could about the people he associated with, especially the little secrets they hoped would never see the light of day.

  “What do I have to do, Gino?”

  Smirking, Gino rose from his chair, heading toward the elevator. “In about half an hour, a group of teen boys are going to come in. You need to tell them about a special surprise I’ve arranged for them, by having Kane teach them some boxing fundamentals.”

  “Kids, you say?” Gino could hear the dollar signs flashing in Brody’s voice. The dirty motherfucker was as twisted as a fucking pretzel and would do anything for a profit. “How about I arrange for the press to be here, snap some photos of the kids—"

  “If I find out one fucking photo of those kids was taken, I will make sure Kane’s sister gets a video of you fucking Holly, the red-headed Ring Girl.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Brody whispered.

  “Try me and see. Now, make sure Kane knows this is a favor for me.” Gino didn’t wait for an answer. Ending the call and jumping into his car, he tore out of the garage as if he were being chased by the devil.

  Gino couldn’t shake the feeling something bad was going on as he pulled into the circular drive of his father’s house. The normal couple of men who stood sentry were now several dozens, all with somber faces and eyes focused on the ground.

  He spotted Tony immediately. Throwing his car into first, he jumped out of the car, his fist pulled back and ready to strike. “The next time you address me, you better—"