“I don’t have lady friends,” I mutter. I don’t. I fuck them and leave them. No one wants to stay friends with me after, anyway.
Salvatore barks out a laugh. “You’re priceless, you sadistic prick. I might have someone for you, legs for days, a tight little ass, long black hair, half Japanese. She’s hot as fuck.”
“I don’t do prostitutes.”
“I fucking know that. She’s not a hooker.”
“I don’t do your leftovers either.”
“She’s the daughter of a client. I haven’t sampled her. Yet. And I have no issues with leftovers as long as they have tits and ass.”
“You’re a pig.”
He laughs. “I know. I’ll text you her contact info. Be here at eight sharp.” He disconnects.
I stare at the phone and rub a hand over my face. As I walk out of the trashed office, I give West a kick for good measure. I exit through the back of the little shoe repair store, into an alley, as my phone buzzes.
It’s a text from Salvatore. Sun Yamamoto. And a phone number. I sigh. I can’t say I’m feeling it, but I won’t have a choice.
I walk a block to my car and call her as I start driving.
A soft, breathless, very feminine voice answers. “Yes?”
“Sun Yamamoto?”
“Yes. Who is this? How did you get my number?”
She sounds a bit suspicious. Self-preservation is a good thing. Maybe she isn’t a total airhead.
“My name is Eric Reed. I work for Mr. Salvatore who I believe has business with your father.”
“I know who Mr. Salvatore is, yes.” Her voice is still guarded. Good girl. Something stirs in me, and I suddenly wanna break through that wall, and make her scream and cry.
“He’s having a little gathering at his residence tonight, and he has requested your presence. I was told to escort you there, and it would be my honor, Miss Yamamoto.”
“Requested?” Her voice raises a pitch. “He can’t just request my presence.”
“Oh, I agree completely. It’s awfully bold of him, but he isn’t an easy man to please, and I got the impression it would benefit your father greatly.”
She’s silent. I wait and let her process this.
“And who are you again?”
“I’m Eric Reed. I’m Mr. Salvatore’s right-hand man.”
“I’m going to check you out first. See if it’s true.”
“Of course. I never expected anything less; on the contrary, I admire a woman who can look after herself.”
Well, I don’t. But it excites me, because they’re more fun when I break them.
“Miss Yamamoto. Dinner is at eight. Cocktail dress would be suitable. It’s now two p.m. I will call you in two hours and make plans for picking you up. You know how to reach Mr. Salvatore?”
“Yes, of course.”
There’s a new tension in her voice. Not as suspicious anymore, but as if she’s a little bit enticed. I grin. Good.
“Talk to you later then, Miss Yamamoto.”
“Call me Sun.”
“Sun,” I purr. “I’ll call you.”
I disconnect and pull up by the side of the road. A Google search comes up with thousands of hits. Gossip magazines. Wikipedia. Instagram. A jet set life. A socialite. And a real beauty. A French mom, and a Japanese father. Almond eyes. Long, straight black hair with heavy bangs. Tall. Slim. Fit. Luciano isn’t such a fucker anyway. Sometimes he knows exactly what I need.
She stays in a suite at the Hilton. Of course she does. Outside her door stands a heavy man in a dark suit. A bodyguard. I wonder if there are threats to her life. Does she live in fear of being kidnapped? My immediate thought is how I’m gonna ditch the man. Or I can just gag her when I fuck her. I’ll play it as it comes.
He knocks on her door for me, already having been alerted of my arrival.
Sun Yamamoto is a vision in real life as well. She’s tall, far from as tall as I am, but with her heels she’s much taller than most women. She could do catwalks. Her glossy hair lays splayed over her shoulders, her eyes are sensual and dark as soot. The dress, or the little fabric that covers her curves, is black, showing almost her whole back, and ends on her upper thighs.
A smile plays on her lips as she gives me a once-over. “You’re tall.”
“So are you.”
“You’re kinda hot.”
“So are you, Miss Yamamoto.”
She flips a strand of hair off her shoulder. “I know.”
I bark out a laugh and give her my arm. “Ready to go and witness the debauchery that is a dinner at the Salvatore residence?”
Her eyes flash with interest as she lays a slim hand on my arm, letting me guide her. A thrill runs through me at her touch.
“Debauchery? Now you have me intrigued.”
Oh, girl, I’ll have you much more than intrigued when the night is over.
The huge bodyguard trails behind us as we make our way to my car. “Does that piece of meat need to come with?” I say quietly in her ear. “It kind of puts a damper on things.”
She laughs. “It’s out of my control. I live under constant threat. I like living. I hate needing to take these precautions, but it is how it is.”
“He’s not riding with me.”
“No, it’s all right. He can follow behind. Just don’t lose him, please.”
I sincerely doubt she’s allowed to split from him, and he objects vividly, but has no say. I play a good boy and let him tail me the whole way, making everyone feel they’re in control. Games, deception and getting what I want in the end are my forte. It’s what I’m trained to do.
Salvatore greets us with open arms and air kisses. Right cheek, left cheek. He kisses Sun on the back of her hand, spouting some compliments as he gives me a look, telling me all about the dirty thoughts that really run through his mind under that smooth façade. I hold my face neutral. I don’t like letting him invade my mind.
Dinner is what it always is. Sexy little servants, young men and women who get paid well, and have to put up with being groped all through the night. Quite a few of them will have earned a bit of extra cash when the night is over. A long table filled with men in dark suits, some of them with eye candy on their side. A couple of hardened wives sit and talk among themselves, not interfering with their husbands’ business. Every single person in here knows exactly what kind of man Salvatore is, and they bask in the benefits of being on his good side.
Sun has been ogled, approached and given dirty suggestions. I’ve protected her the whole night, played the perfect gentleman. She’s a tough cookie, though, and none of the less pleasant encounters seem to have rattled her.
“What do you do for Mr. Salvatore, Eric?”
“I manage his business deals with the mid-level players. It’s a full-time job. He never rests. I also double as his bodyguard.”
She eyes me up and down with an appreciative glance. “And… what is it Mr. Salvatore does?”
“I don’t think you need to ask that, Sun.” I flash her a wide smile and refill her glass with champagne. She’s getting tipsy and is definitely interested. Her cheeks are flushed, she’s chewing her full bottom lip and her pupils dilate as she regards me.
I lean in, putting my mouth to her ear. “Have you had enough of these mongrels?”
She gasps and her nipples harden visibly through the thin fabric. My cock stirs at the sight and the heady scent of her flowery perfume. It’s a little on the heavy side, but it fits her, just as the thick diamond necklace around her long, pale throat fits her. I want to wrap my fingers around that throat and feel her fear through her arousal. I want to see her naked with only that sexy necklace on.
She nods, her eyes glazed over, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
I offer her my hand and she takes it. As we stand, I snake an arm around her narrow waist and pull her to my side.
“Let’s get some fresh air.” I guide her to the backside patio. It’s dark and empty, only illuminated through the window
s from the increasingly loud and drunken party inside. The night is warm and filled with earthy scents. I twine my fingers with hers and she lets me, then she puts a hand on my chest, stroking along my shirt, over my pecs, down along my stomach. My muscles ripple with tension. I grab her and spin us around, pushing her up against the wall, crushing my mouth against hers.
She moans and bites my lower lip pretty hard. A rush runs through me and I get rock hard in an instant. She likes it rough? I’ll show her rough.
I hoist her up against the wall, my hands under her ass. She wraps her long, slender legs around my waist and gasps. I shove her dress out of the way and, fuck me, no panties. My fingers find their way to her wet slit, teasing back and forth, making her tremble in my hold. Then I push inside. Three fingers, rough, all the way to the last knuckle. She tenses and squirms, rising a little to ease the pressure, but I don’t let her get away. I pull out and find her clit, circling it, pinching, making her cry out. I chuckle and stab inside again, thrusting in and out as her breathing quickens, her heart thudding against my chest. Her inner walls clench around my fingers and I pull out. She doesn’t get to come yet.
I let her down. She wobbles and clutches my shoulders for support.
“You mean, mean man,” she whines. “I am so fucking close.”
“You haven’t seen mean yet, Sun. I’m gonna keep you on the edge of that orgasm the rest of the night. And if you play nice, I’ll let you come.”
She squirms. “What is ‘nice’?” she gasps.
I grab her arm and pull her with me through the garden. “You’ll see, love. Now let’s sneak past your babysitter. Unless you want him to join?”
“Oh, hell no,” she says and giggles.
I steer her toward my car. I parked it a little to the side, making it easy to leave. I’ve nurtured one glass of wine the whole night. It’s my trick. As people get increasingly drunk, they have no clue that one of them doesn’t keep filling his glass. When I’m among these thugs, I want to stay sharp. I clutch her arm a little tighter than what must be comfortable. A little hint of what’s to come.
I’m still hard as we drive past the gates, past Salvatore’s guards. I steer toward my place. I want my equipment. Maybe she’s a naughtier girl than I think and has some nice toys at her place, but I doubt they’d be to my satisfaction.
My hand rests on her leg as we breeze along the freeway, stroking the soft skin on her inner thigh, higher, brushing her swollen folds. I grin as a tremor runs through her.
“Put your hand on my cock, but no more, I don’t want to fucking crash. I just want to feel you.”
She obeys and carefully lets her fingers touch my raging hard-on.
“Oh my God,” she whispers. “You’re huge.”
“Do you want to know where I’m gonna put that?”
She gulps and nods.
“I’m gonna have your lush lips around it, you’re gonna have to work that hot mouth of yours, then I’m gonna fuck your throat before I claim your cunt and your ass.”
Her breaths get heavier. I glance at her. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth hangs open. She licks her lips. “I’ve never…”
I raise my eyebrows. All the better. I don’t even know what it is she’s never done, but she will have done it by tomorrow morning.
Chapter 2
Anna
“Dad.”
“Pumpkin! Hi. How are you?”
“You wanna come over for dinner tonight? I can make lasagna.” I glance to the side, switch lanes and leave the highway, aiming for the supermarket before I head home.
My father laughs. “You don’t have to tempt me with my favorite dish, sweetheart. I’m always happy to come over. I sit alone anyway.”
“That’s so sad. You should find someone.”
“I’m an old fart, I’ve had my fun. You should find someone.”
I freeze up, my chest suddenly too tight. “Of course, Dad,” I choke out. “See you tonight?”
My dad, as always, is oblivious to my inner turmoil. Always, because I have never told him. I never told anyone about the attack. I don’t want anyone’s pity; I don’t want anyone’s kindness, or attempts to console me. I’ve built walls, and I won’t have anyone or anything tearing them down. Everyone reacts differently, copes differently. It may not be a good way, but this is my way.
The night proceeds as expected. I’ve poured Dad a glass of wine, hoping to lessen the shock a little.
“I’ve… quit my job.”
He stops with his fork between plate and mouth and raises his eyebrows. So much for lessening the impact. “What?”
I squirm. “Look… I know how proud you’ve been over my position at the law firm. Over my degree, but I’m not feeling it. It’s been so stressful; I’ve felt like I’ll end up in an early grave.”
“Really? Why haven’t you told me?”
I haven’t told him because it’s tightly connected to what happened to me a little less than a year ago. Pushing the thought away, I smile at him. “I don’t know. I think I wanted to make you proud.”
He leans forward and caresses my cheek. “I’m always proud of you, love. Always. It doesn’t matter to me what you do, as long as you’re happy.”
Yeah, that’s the big issue. I can’t tell him. It would crush him more than it did me.
“I am happy. I have another job of course; I didn’t just hop off without a plan.”
“Tell me!” His eyes glitter again.
“It’s just a small company, and I can manage my responsibilities. It’s like, when I leave work, I don’t have to think about it, you know. I don’t have to sit at home with piles of documents to work through.”
Dad nods. He knows. He’s a retired divorce lawyer. It’s ironic, and sad, that Mom fled when he was just starting his practice, and the first case was him getting divorced himself. He’s never been with another woman as far as I know. He’s been my mom and dad throughout my whole life and he’s the only one I let in. I was so focused on law school that I neglected my friends, and eventually I lost them all. I had a boyfriend in college, but we had different goals in life and drifted apart with no hard feelings.
“So, is it good? Or is it just to have an income?”
I wince but decide on the truth. “It’s really boring. Like, it’s gonna kill me in the long run. But it suits me now, because I can’t live on air.”
“You know, there’s always room for you at home.”
I laugh. “Yeah, Dad, but I’m twenty-six. I’ve lived away from home since I was nineteen. I’m not moving in with my parent again.”
He makes a face. “I guess I see your point. So what else is new? Seeing anyone?”
I want to lie to get him off my back. But I don’t. “I’m not interested.”
“Are—I’ve been wanting to ask for a long time—you not interested in men?”
I burst out in a laugh. “Can you be more awkward? No, I think I’m your average straight girl. I hate that word by the way. As if the opposite of straight is bent, crooked, faulty.” I frown. “Anyway, no, I’m not gay, Dad. Why?”
“Well…” A blush creeps up his neck, and I decide to let him off the hook.
“How’s the golfing?”
He shines up like the sun and talks the rest of the night about his new favorite hobby. He is so easy, and I’m a freaking master at dark deception.
My days, my weeks, month after month, look exactly the same, and after four months at the little custom printing company, I realize it isn’t awful. My bosses are pretty chill; the rest of the staff is kind. The office is located in one of the fanciest business districts in downtown Los Angeles and it has its advantages, like a great underground garage with a guard, lots of nearby restaurants and coffee shops. What I can’t understand is how they can make so much money. As far as I can tell we’re pretty average. I studied finance law as well as criminal law, and something doesn’t add up. There are no signs of foul play, though, and I suspect my background makes for a very vivid imagination.
The two men in black suits, and oily, slicked-back hair that pass outside my little office one late afternoon, make me do a double take. My heart speeds up. I don’t know anything about mafia, I’ve only seen them in the movies, but these two looked like they could have come straight out of The Godfather.
Mr. Darrell is uncharacteristically quiet that afternoon, and a bit pale.
It’s as if he shrinks before my eyes. As days turn into weeks, my jovial friendly boss turns into a shadow of himself. I know a stress reaction when I see one. I see it every time I look in a mirror. One part of me wants to reach out and ask if he wants to talk, another part is afraid to know.
Eric
“So they’re involved in a money laundering scheme?” Christian Russo sits with his dirty shoes propped up on my dashboard, chewing on a toothpick as he cleans his nails with the tip of his knife.
I grit my teeth. We’ve been sent from San Francisco to LA, the worst shithole on the planet, and I have to put up with this guy for a week. He’s a pig. The oldest Russo brother used to be a ruthless guy, but somewhat civil and disciplined, but the last year he’s become a liability to the business if you ask me. One of these days I’m gonna have to talk to Salvatore about him. They might be family, but he’s a danger to the whole organization.
Rubbing my face, I grab the water bottle next to me, twist off the lid and take a swig. “Yep. The older one, Myles, used to work for Salvatore as an errand boy. When he lost his wife, and was left with four kids, Salvatore gave him a little bit of an out with this firm. Forever indebted, of course. He employed Darrell, the fat one, and since then they’ve grown a little. Their biggest source of income, though, is the money that flows through them, not the printing business.”
Christian spits out the toothpick through the sliver of an opening in the window. “And now Salvatore feels money is going missing?”
“Oh, yes, and it’s not peanuts either. Not that Luci would accept even a cent disappearing without heads rolling.”
Russo Saga Collection Page 24
