Beauty and the beast: A Modern Day Fairytale Billionaire Mafia Romance

by Georgia Le Carre

  One year later.

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=an4ySOlsUMY

  -How Long Will I love You?-

  The entire family was gathered in the living room of Luca’s father’s residence in Boston to celebrate Dante, our son’s first birthday. There were balloons everywhere and a table full of gifts. We were all gathered around the long dinner table where Angelo and Sienna’s son Fabio and Dante were sitting in front of a big birthday cake. The toddlers were incorrigible when they got together, but I never expected them to do what they did.

  We were all singing Happy Birthday when both boys suddenly, and without any warning entered into a competition of seeing how much of the cake’s icing they could lick off.

  Luca lunged forward, grabbed Dante and pulled him off the destroyed cake, while Sienna rushed to pull Fabio off the cake too, but it was already too late, their faces were covered with icing. To the amusement of Luca’s mother. She was terrible for letting the boys do anything they wanted.

  The other day, she let Dante play with an old Roman artifact that cost many thousands of dollars. Of course, he broke it. I was horrified when I saw what he had done while I was in the bathroom, but she laughed and almost proudly pronounced that the antiquity had survived great wars and hundreds of years until it met Luca’s son.

  When we finished laughing and singing, Luca held Dante over the cake and he blew ineffectively at the candle until Luca surreptitiously blew it out. We all clapped and Dante looked pleased with himself. Luca put him down and he immediately ran towards Fabio. They banged into each other and fell on their butts. For a moment they looked surprised then, Dante began to cry. I picked him up.

  “Aw baby,” I said as I tried to comfort him. But he didn’t want me. He wanted his dad. I raised my eyebrow at Luca and he came over and took Dante from me. Immediately, Dante stopped crying. Luca looked so proud and happy my heart swelled in my chest.

  “If you keep looking at me like that things are not going to end well for you tonight,” Luca whispered in my ear.

  Even after all this time I felt my cheeks begin to flush.

  Luca laughed.

  His mom came over. “We need the boys for the pictures,” she said and plucked Dante out of Luca’s arms. We watched our son try to rip her expensive pearl chain as she carried him away.

  “Do you think she is going to turn him into a spoilt brat?” I wondered.

  “No. We’ll set him straight when the time comes, but it’s right that all grandmother’s thoroughly and utterly and completely spoil their grandchildren.”

  His arms locked around my waist as we watched the cousins, born only two months apart. “They really are inseparable, aren’t they?” Luca commented.

  “Do you know what would be really funny?” I asked.

  He turned to look at me. “No, what?”

  “If either Sienna or me were to get pregnant and they got to add another baby to their gang.”

  “Don’t do that,” he laughed. “Sienna won’t forgive you. I think she thinks Dante is a bad influence on her son.”

  I didn’t say anything and he turned to me suddenly, his expression disbelieving. We spoke with our eyes. “Are you serious?” he asked, his voice full of hope.

  I nodded. “Yup. We’re having another monster.”

  With his arms hooked around my waist, he lifted me up into the air, and spun me around.

  “What’s happening?” Someone asked and I hit his shoulder gently to put me down. However, he was so happy he refused to put me down, spinning me round and round. The rest of the party passed in a daze of happiness. Every time I turned to look at Luca, he was staring at me.

  “Mama,” he said, “Will you take care of Dante for a while?”

  “Of course. Let the boy stay the night here if you want.”

  Luca looked at me. “Shall we?”

  As if in a trance, I nodded. It had been a long time since it was just the two of us. We even took Dante with us on our honeymoon. He didn’t take me home. He took me straight to a hotel. We didn’t speak as the bellboy showed us to our suite. When the bellboy left, he pressed me against the door and kissed me deeply. The effect on my brain cells was devastating.

  “Thank you,” he said. “For the colors you have brought into my life.”

  “You’re welcome,” I told him, and kissed him right back.

  His hands began to work at the buttons and zips on my pant suit. Once he got rid of that, he went for the lacy bra and matching thong I wore underneath.

  He pulled it away and let his gaze linger on my breasts, down to my hips and pussy, before returning to my eyes. The intensity in his gaze made my knees buckle.

  He walked me backwards until the backs of my legs hit the bed. Then he flung me backwards and watched me bounce on the bed. Taking his clothes off he moved on top of me.

  My eyes were on his lips, moistened and pink and oh so soft. I could almost feel his tongue in my mouth, the memory vivid from all the other times he had kissed me senseless. Our lips drew together as though pulled by invisible magnets, but he stopped just short of kissing me, preferring instead to tease me out of my mind. Frustration tied me up in knots.

  We were somewhat pressed against each other, his head lowered towards mine. The tip of his nose would graze up my neck, and then across my cheek and then he would pull back to stare at me. One time his tongue slid out to lightly graze my bottom lip.

  “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he asked.

  “It won’t hurt to hear it again,” I teased.

  “You, Skye Messana, are the most beautiful woman in the universe,” he breathed.

  “For God’s sake, kiss me, man,” I pleaded, “before I lose my mind.”

  And he did…

  The End

  Coming Soon…

  The Other Side of Midnight

  (Unedited)

  Chapter 1

  Autumn

  It’s just struck midnight, but I’ve no intention of leaving the backroom of the art shop where I double as Larry’s shop assistant and cleaner and going home. I sneaked back in here after dinner to finish my little painting, but I’ve become so totally engrossed in it, I could be here for hours more.

  I know most artists prefer working in daylight. Not me. I love creating things long after everyone else is tucked up in their beds and the air is pregnant with all their dreams.

  My brush, loaded with precious oil paints that take up a great proportion of my wages, glides effortlessly across the canvass, as I move it quickly and instinctively. I’m a still student with much to learn, but I have to admit my painting is starting to look really good. Maybe it’s because this painting is special… important. Well, it is to me, anyway.

  I take a few steps back to gaze critically at my canvass. It’s a strange scene. An old, crumbling, ivy grown castle built into the side of a snow-capped mountain. A road, so narrow only a horse driven carriage could fit, leads up to the fortress. I’m tempted to add a carriage and snorting black horses onto the road, but I’m afraid I’ll spoil the painting.

  It’s important that I don’t ruin it, for I have attempted to paint this scene countless times before, but always had to give up after a few strokes. I knew I couldn’t capture the vivid images in my mind, and something deep inside me demanded I replicate it exactly as it lived in my mind. I couldn’t understand why I had to, I just knew I did.

  I start moving forward to add more color to the castle, when I stop suddenly. The skin at the back of my neck is prickling. The silence is undisturbed, but the air is different.

  My heart slams into my rib cage as I swing my head around and look through the half-open door into the small showroom beyond. All the lamps are turned off, but from the light of the streetlamps I can see right through to the rusty little bells attached to the door. I’ve been so lost in my work I’d not heard them ring, but I know.

  Someone has entered the shop!

  It can’t be a customer at this time of the night, and I kno
w it is not Larry. He would have called out. It is either one of the wild kids in town up to no good, or a robber. Dad sent me for karate classes when I was in high-school and I know some good moves. I can definitely handle any kid, and probably even a robber, if he isn’t carrying a gun.

  But I have an even better idea.

  I reach for a stained rag on the wooden trolley next to me and hurriedly wipe off as much paint from my hands so it won’t be slippery and tip toe over to the cupboard. I throw the cloth on the floor and pick up the baseball bat next to the cupboard. Gripping the smooth solid wood tightly with both hands, I start to move stealthily towards the door. I’ll be damned if I’m going to be cowed by any intruder.

  My heart is beating so fast, my blood roars in my ears. I’m ready to swing the bat hard at the slightest provocation… until I trip on the temporary plastic covering Larry placed over some wires he ran across the room just until the electrician came on Tuesday.

  I’ve bumped my foot against the plastic a few times, but always managed to regain my balance. Not this time. This time the damn thing finally gets me. I feel myself pitch forward. My hands instinctively let go of the bat and fling out to try and grab on to anything that would break my fall, but I only connect with the trolley full of paint tubes and a jar of turpentine filled brushes.

  Grasping for the trolley is a big mistake. Not only does it not stop my fall, it accelerates it. The trolley shoots a few feet forward, until it collides with an immovable object, then both the trolley and I crash to the concrete floor in an almighty racket.

  The breath is knocked out of me as my back slams onto the floor and paint tubes bounce off me and the jar hit my chest and spills out its contents. I can feel the pungent turpentine seeping into my clothes and reaching my skin.

  “Shit,” I curse, as I lie there a winded, bruised, stained mess.

  Then, I became aware there is someone else in the room with me. I turn my head and see a pair of highly polished black shoes a few feet away from me. My shocked eyes travel upwards and my brain notes how immaculate the creases in his black trousers are. The material is smooth, expensive. He is wearing a long black coat that looks luxuriously soft, the way good cashmere does.

  A belt with a custom insignia on the buckle. A two-headed eagle or a phoenix perhaps.

  My gaze travels further upwards. Flat stomach. Black turtle neck sweater. Pale skin, blonde hair, sensual mouth, strong jaw, narrow nose and…

  Suddenly, my eyes locks with the stranger’s, and something shifts inside of me.

  I hold my breath without even realizing it. As I stare into those translucent icy blue irises full of mysteries, time stops. It isn’t the way romance books describe it. The rest of the world doesn’t drop away. Instead those eyes reach into my soul and whirl me away into another world. It’s like a sense of déjà vu as if I’ve once danced in the snow with this man while a full orchestra played just for us.

  I think of steel hardened by fire and feel strong sexual desire for him flower in my belly, but I just can’t explain why I would feel that. He is sooooo not my type. I’m contemptuous of arrogant rich men who believe they can buy anything with their money. And there is no doubt he is such a man. I can tell by the curve of his mouth. Nothing has been denied this man. Ever.

  For he is like a marvelous piece of art. His pale beauty and gold hair have a strange… darkness to them that immediately makes you wary, but is at the same time so magnetic, so fascinating, you can’t look away, you want in. And all you can do is stand there, or in my case, lie there and stare stupidly.

  “Are you alright?” he asks. His voice has a hypnotic quality, smooth as honey dripping from a spoon, but laced with a powerful note of authority.

  I want to hear him speak again.

  He takes another step towards me and bends slightly from his great height to hold a hand out to me. At the moment, I realize something else about him. He is clean. Immaculately clean. Not a blonde hair out of place, not a speck of dust on his expensive clothes, his nails are beautifully manicured, and his skin is so clear and blemish free it is as if he is one of those Gods from Mount Olympus who used to occasionally step down to earth to mate with human women.

  I feel my hackles rise.

  I do not like this man at all.

  I know wholeheartedly, instinctively, definitely.

  He is dangerous to me.

  Chapter 2

  Rocco

  The smell of turpentine is overpowering, but I can still smell her. She wears no perfume. Just the clean, honest scent of her sweat. I don’t let it show on my face, but being this close to her actually makes the blood course through my veins with a deafening force. And the mixture of lust and excitement is almost crippling. All that I thought was dead has come alive again.

  I see all kinds of emotions rush across her face. Shock, confusion, surprise, sexual attraction, and finally dislike. Dislike so intense it is closer to hate. I can see she is going to run with that emotion.

  Ignoring my outstretched hand, she scrambles to her feet. I retract my hand and watch her put as much space between us as the cluttered area will allow.

  “How did you get in here?” she demands aggressively.

  I stroll away from her. “You left the door unlocked.”

  “There’s a CLOSED sign on the door,” she snaps.

  “Is there?” I ask mildly.

  “Yes, there is. We’re closed. If you want to buy anything you must come back tomorrow. We open again at 10.00 a.m.”

  She stares at me uneasily. She has convinced herself she hates my guts, but she is trembling, trembling with the same irrational lust I throbbing in my body. I understand her perfectly. Hate is easy. All the other options terrify her.

  “I have to go away in the morning, but I’ve seen something in the shop I want. Would you be so kind as to put it away for me? Tell Larry to charge it to my account, and I’ll send someone around to pick it up on Thursday.”

  She frowns, immediately suspicious. “Which painting is it?”

  “Miranda Taking A Bath.”

  “Oh,” she says covering her hand over her mouth. The action serves only to smear more paint on her cheek. My eyes linger on the soft curve.

  She drops her hand in confusion. “Of course, I’ll put it away for you.”

  Now that I’ve established I’m a valuable customer willing to buy the most expensive painting in the premises, I start to walk towards the painting on the easel. But she rushes quickly to stand in front of it and block it from my gaze.

  “Ignore this,” she mutters uncomfortably. “It’s just something I'm working on. Uh, please come out to the shop floor with me. This area is Staff Only.”

  “What are you creating?” I ask softly.

  “Oh… uh. It’s nothing. I’m just a student… playing around.”

  “Let me see it,” I say softly as I stare into her warm hazel eyes. They are full of golden flecks. I let her drown in my gaze until, unable to resist, she moves aside.

  The raw beauty of her work takes my breath away. I take in the white squiggles that are supposed to be seagulls flying high over the abandoned castle, the pieces of rock that are falling from the castle rampart. I feel such a sense of loss I want to reach out and touch the wet paint, but I don’t. I’m careful to keep my expression neutral and totally veiled, as I drink in her creation. Seconds pass. The air is so quiet I can hear her heart hammering fast and loud in her chest.

  I tear my gaze away from the painting and turn to her. “I want it.”

  Her eyes widen with astonishment. “What?”

  “I’d like to buy your painting.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s… it’s not for sale.”

  “I’ll give you one hundred thousand for it.”

  This time her jaw drops with disbelief. “What?”

  “Or… name your price.”

  The shock is replaced by white hot temper. It makes her eyes turn a luminous green. The gold flecks become sparks of bright light. Entranc
ed by her wild beauty, I wait for her passionate outburst eagerly, but she takes a shuddering breath and takes control of herself. I bought the most expensive item in the shop, after all.

  “How do I explain this? The paintings for sale are all out on the floor. This piece is not even finished.”

  I take my wallet out of my coat pocket, count out ten bills, and put it on the old wooden bench. “Here’s a thousand. The rest when you finish it.”

  I can see she is hopelessly poor and cannot help being drawn to the money, but her throat moves as she swallows hard, and stop herself from saying something rude.

  “The painting is not for sale,” she says through gritted teeth.

  “Then take it as the deposit if you change your mind.”

  Her eyes flash. “I won’t change my mind?”

  I smile slowly. “Keep it, anyway.”

  She folds her hands in front of her body defiantly. “Why would I want to keep your money?”

  “Consider it a tip for a fabulous service rendered,” I murmur.

  She inhales sharply. Even in her great anger she cannot fail to pick up on the sexual tension.

  “Tell Larry, Rocco Rossetti called. And don’t forget to lock the front door.” Then I turn and walk away from her. There is a small smile on my face. You will be mine, Autumn DeLaney. Nothing and no one, not even you, will stop me.

  Chapter 3

  Autumn

  I watch his back disappear into the gloom of the shop, then I hear the sound of the rusty bells twinkle as he pulls the door open. Then the door shuts quietly. Only then, can I jerk out of the trancelike state I am in. I run to the door and lock it. Then I lean my back against it and take deep gasping breaths.

  What on earth is the matter with me?

  The attraction is not mental. I feel hot and bothered and there is a strange fluttering in my stomach. I place my hand on my belly as I feel the wetness seeping out of me. I cannot believe the visceral reaction my body is displaying. My whole body is craving him. I stand there in the darkness, leaning against the door, breathing in and out until my body calms down.