by S. W. Frank
Ari stopped singing as tears bit at her face and she allowed the songstress to belt out her pain. Yes, she knew who Nico was…God knows she did. She’d changed in maturity but why hadn’t he?
The car’s headlights were shut off when she neared the private property. She didn’t want to risk the guards spotting the vehicle and pulled over behind a thicket of trees. She could see the high walls made of stone; the parapet is how she deemed these fortified estates belonging to Mafia people.
Nico’s night vision binoculars were placed to her wet eyes to scan for a break in the wall and she saw only more grey. She inhaled, exited the car and trudged through the cold for a better line of sight. When she found a spot with an unobstructed view of the entry, she peered through black wrought iron gates to cobblestones. There, parked directly in front of large wood doors was Nico’s car.
Ari sighed. She wasn’t in the mood to lose. Unlike the song she decided she’d fight. Nico is what she wanted and instead of tears as solace she geared up for the fight. “I’m not walking away this time Nicolo Serano. You’re not getting away with your shit any more. If I have to play dirty then that’s what I’m prepared to do because I’m winning. This is my life and my damn court!”
The cell reserved for emergencies came out of her pocket. Her hands were cold as she hit the button and waited.
“Ari, what’s wrong?” Were the first words out of Nico’s mouth.
“Oh Nico…” she whined pitifully. “I’m so sorry to call, are you working?”
“Talk to me, what happened love.”
“I woke up with a terrible pain…it hurts so bad…oh…oh.”
“I’ll be right there!”
Ari smirked, slipped the cell back in her pocket and rushed to the warmth of her car to beat Nico home.
***
Nico glanced at Bianca who had just poured tea. They were in the kitchen. On the table was a blueprint for an assignment. Initials identified the major target. None of the subjects were mob insurgents. All were legitimate, working class people by most standards but the owner of the jewelry shop was not entirely innocent. Buying conflict diamonds or hiding their origin is just as unethical as selling tainted meat.
After the calamity in Africa, he became reactive and put hammer to nail for expeditious results. The ringleader of the consortium appeared to be Seth Meyer’s brother. What this all meant and how it connected to Alfonzo was something he had to find out.
Alfonzo entrusted Nico with the job. That’s the thing about their relationship, in spite of their tumultuous history when it came to family business they were always on the same page. Eradicate anyone who posed a threat, clean and fast. Alfonzo respected Nico’s skills. A seasoned professional who had yet to serve prison time for his crimes had to be the best. But, soon Nico planned to leave the field to fulfill his duties in other positions; father, husband and Consigliere are the other hats he wore as well. He’d spoken to Alfonzo about training Tony and elevating him in rank. Tony had the potential to become a great enforcer. He observed a lot, was intelligent and didn’t have the vices that often toppled careers.
Alfonzo agreed. If Tony accepted the honor he would receive training in Sicily under Nico’s tutelage and that could take years. Nico had considered Sergio but decided he was still too green, besides he’d gotten involved with Lucia Peglesi and that could prove to be a full-time job. Heck, out of all the women on earth Sergio chose Matteo’s sister and Giuseppe’s ex. Double damn…a true mess!
Nico took the offered cup, sipped hot liquid and then placed the mug on the counter. “I have to leave.”
“Emergencia?”
“Sí.”
Bianca’s shiny hair draped her shoulders and rippled like silk when she nodded. Her melon breasts were visible in the thin negligee which rose during each gentle breath. “Then you must go,” she said closing the gap between them, pressing against Nico to feel the warmth of his body. Heat emanated from the threads of his black cardigan. Loving eyes were on his neck where muscles protruded and descended like fleshy rope beneath fine wool. Ari was lucky to have Nico’s heart and sacred rights a mistress could never claim. The bargain with Nico was for protection and nothing more. Yet, her heart beat thunderously loud each time Nico neared. “We must discuss the details. How else will I know what you want me to do bello?”
Nico palmed her cheeks. “I’ll fill you in later.”
Long feathery lashes rose to unveil the eyes of a woman wanting to be touched. “Of course.”
“Your eyes are giving you away Bianca.” Nico squinted during a visual dissection. He was prompted to add caution going forward. “I cannot allow you to forget that our duties are not to ourselves. The moment you lose focus, someone dies.”
She became contrite. “Sí, perdóname Nico.”
“I am not Alberti and you are not my wife. We have a bargain, capisce?”
“Capisco, but it is hard not to care for a good man.”
“Bianca…ah.” He groaned. He rubbed his chin and then sighed. “You deserve better than this.” He wrapped his arms around the sexy woman wanting her to be happy but that could not be found with him. She was vibrant and beautiful and he did not want her pining over him and wishing for miracles. What he had with Ari was far more than sex.
His mouth covered her parted lips and she moaned. Again she displayed her weakness. The longing had become a cacophonous shrill. Her arms clung to his neck, melting into Nico is what Bianca Luca did, until he pulled away, pat her ass, removed the items from the table and left without another word.
In his car speeding home to his wife, he made a decision not to bed Bianca again. The lines had blurred. He saw the change in her eyes; she had begun to love him and that was not in the deal.
CHAPTER SIX
The children were sleeping. They should be at three in the morning, Selange mused as she stepped through the door. The bodyguard placed her suitcase near the bottom stair as instructed. She said good-night, which was really morning and waited until he exited before ascending the stairs. Little actions, like never turning her back on people unless they were family and not trusting even smiling strangers were the residual traumas of her latest ordeal.
Sometimes she thought about Kefilwe; she could see and hear the African drums and the smiles as if it were yesterday. She tried hard to forget, but then she’d see the woman’s face as clearly as her own. Selange sighed, held her stomach wishing that a surprise would come. She hadn’t said aloud her fears to Alfonzo, but he was astute. Her husband saw more than he let on. Four children are probably all they would have. After the ectopic pregnancy and surgery, she noticed unusual changes to her cycle and pain which she didn’t have prior. The doctor said she had scar tissue and fibroid cysts. These factors made having children difficult, if not impossible. But, she accepted that, she had no choice. Some people counted their blessings every day, Selange did so on the hour. She had love and that’s what mattered and they slept peacefully in their beds. Every weary step she took to get to the top was worth the effort because up there lie the center of her heart.
Those girls, padre have mercy, probably had Alfonzo banging his head on the wall during her absence. She peeked in doors smiling; exhaling softly at the serene faces before finally reaching the bedroom. The door was ajar. Sprawled atop the sheet in fitted boxers and hugging the pillows lay Alfonzo. I’m home, is what she breath
ed in silence while undressing down to bare skin.
She tilt her head to twist her unruly hair in a sloppy chignon and then tip-toed to bed. She was reaching for her favorite pillow beneath Alfonzo’s heavy head when his eyes suddenly opened. “Morning babe,” he said.
“Good morning. Can I have my pillow back?”
He raised his head for her to reclaim the cottony possession. She fluffed out the dent from his big head and gingerly placed it with its twin. “How were the children?” she asked when she slid in bed.
“They were angels.”
Selange snuggled against his solid frame and held his waist. Kissing his underarm when he lifted to embrace her tight. “Ummm you’re such a liar.”
A hoarse chuckle emitted from his sexy mouth. “Nah, they were good.”
Selange closed her eyes, inhaling his masculine scent. When she sighed with contentment he asked, “Everything alright, nena?”
“Yeah, I’m just glad to be home.”
Alfonzo rubbed her spine. “I feel that way every time I see you nena.”
She caressed his side. “I thought I’d find the house a wreck, but I see you know how to keep the kids in check.”
“I’ve been doing this papa gig for a long time. I believe I’ve mastered the fundamentals.”
“Which are?”
“Give the little gremlins love, food, water and then make them so damn tired they cry just for sleep.”
Selange laughed. “I bet they cried their eyes out especially Angelina, she gets super cranky when she’s tired.”
“She did for a minute and then nada. Nina was out.”
She kissed his chest. “You’re the man.”
“Yo sé.” He paused. “What did you say to that Alanda chick to make her haul ass?”
Whatever sleep she’d sought ran and hid. Her eyes slowly opened. Damn, what didn’t Alfonzo know? “I told her a story.”
“Yeah?”
“Um-hum.”
“It must have been one hell of a story, let me hear it.”
“Oh it’s just the Greek myth about how the seasons came to be.”
There was a chuckle mingled with a deep cough which he covered with a fist. “You’re too much.”
Selange slid up on the carved flesh to look in his eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
A concerned mom asked, “Are any of the children sick honey?”
“Not that I’ve noticed.”
Her eyes crinkled. “Maybe I better look.”
Alfonzo held fast. “They’re fine.” His hands began to rub her ass. “You’re trying to escape telling me what you said.”
“No, I’m not.”
He squeezed her bottom and she pressed her pelvis to his groin in distraction but he wasn’t sidetracked by the sexy ruse. “I’m waiting,” he smirked as he pushed upward lifting her easily and making her laugh.
“Oh, you’re going to make me repeat the entire story and I don’t want to. I’d rather do this,” she responded then stuck her tongue in his mouth as she gyrated over his steadily rising member.
He groaned in frustration. “Damn nena. You play wicked. Humor me. I’m trying to picture my wife intimidating somebody,” he spoke into her mouth as she tongued the roof of his gums.
“Um…um…honey…I just said I was Hera and unforgiving.”
Alfonzo burst out laughing and rolled on top to pin her like a wrestler before removing his shorts with one hand. “Hera was a jealous and vengeful bitch, but you’re nothing like that.” He kneed her legs apart and smirked. “Since you’re Hera I guess that makes me Zeus. For your meddling I’m punishing you with dick.”
Selange just laughed, widened her legs more and said, “Make the punishment severe great Zeus. I deserve it.”
Alfonzo’s urgent penetration met moist heaven. Selange didn’t require extensive foreplay. She waxed his taut flesh like grease on a piston. He craved his wife’s pussy, convulsing worse than a junkie he wanted it so bad. Damn, she was warm, wet and tight and the muscle control when she clutched his dick as it traveled her tunnel caused a massive throbbing.
In a frenzy to satiate his need he elevated her ass off the bed and rocked the mattress with their bodies ignoring the fingers digging into his skin. Selange moaned louder which heightened his sexual aggression. Her buttocks were lowered, sandwiched between artificial material and hard flesh. He pressed her there as he filled her body to the core.
Alfonzo’s powerful frame held her immobile, leaving only her arms and legs unrestrained. She had no egress, no strength to match a hungry sex crazed man. Prickly hairs scratched her skin as his lips traveled down her neck to her breasts. He suckled as if starving, bringing her pleasurable pain. Long oh’s and ah’s were the sounds in the darkened room when he hoist her legs higher, bending his torso in a half-moon while massaging her internally in a circular motion. Her head thrashed, she bit her lip when she noticed the door remained slightly open in an effort to stay quiet. A prisoner of ecstasy is how she felt. The thin line of light shining from the hall parted the floor on side of the bed. She prayed none of the kids awakened to see daddy humping mommy because she’d have difficulty explaining. Then Alfonzo exhibited he was far more formidable than a Greek myth when he twisted her body sideways without detaching; corkscrew rotations from his dick sent lightning bolts through nerve endings. He hit that G-spot sending Selange’s arm overhead and fingers coiling around the edge of her comfy pillow. The pleasurable cry which emanated from her soul could have awakened Hades during her intense orgasmic rain.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Domingo wiped transmission fluid from his hands, tossed the soiled cloth to the work bench and yelled to the employee on the far side of the garage to pipe the noise down. The steel doors were rolled up; the mechanics that were hard at work required the cool air to keep their asses awake. But, then there’s always the goof-off trying to distract people from their jobs; the one blaring rap music, walking around instead of detailing being unproductive and costing him money. Sometimes you had to shut shit down and remind staff whose boss, even hand out pink slips, which for Domingo’s business was a verbal, “You’re fired, here’s your week’s pay, now go you useless shit!”
He spotted a trio of luxury SUV’s. The chrome and shiny black metal with the Porsche insignia was sexy on wheels. It had to be his rich cousin. Every time Alfonzo rolled in he arrived with an entourage in fly ass whips. Men piled out from the tinted vehicles; their mean faces weren’t Secret Service, they were paid to die and not to snitch. These were stocky men, muscles that were put to use often, brawler types who even without guns can kill with their bare hands.
Alfonzo’s guys checked around before their boss put his foot on the ground and Domingo figured it must be cool to have clout. He sort of missed the old days when they were a duo and owned el calle. But, winds shift and people drift on destiny. Alfonzo was only in his thirties and the dude practically owned el mundo. Occasionally they hung out, however Alfonzo was either jet-setting here and there, whatever time they spent together seemed to be in the company of his inherited family and guards. Domingo didn’t mind at first, but after a while he began to resent their presence. He liked the old Alfonzo; the Nuyorican proud of his heritage over the sharply suited dude strolling forward who had assimilated with the Italians.
“Que tal primo?” Alfonzo smiled and they did a bro hug greeting followed by fist on fist.
“Same shit, what’s up with you primo?”
Alfonzo displayed a lopsided grin. Love’s sincerity for his cousin unconcealed in the sparkle of blue irises. “Bobbing and weaving suited thugs.”
Domingo observed there’d been a change in guards. There was Tony who he acknowledged with a nod but the other guys he didn’t recognize. “New crew?”
Alfonzo gave a perfunctory
response, “Sí.”
“You looking good, how’s the familia?”
“Asi-asi. You know.”
“Sure do.”
“Hey I thought you said you were expanding, what happened with that?” Alfonzo asked and then put his hands in his pockets to survey the place for new construction. He observed mechanics stealing glances in his direction. Alfonzo was accustomed to the curious on-lookers who wanted a glimpse of the man the media referred to as The Concrete Don. They didn’t outright mention organized crime, however innuendo existed by the usage of the word ‘Don.’ He’d made loads of legal money on other ventures besides construction without mafia connections, but he supposed media outlets felt the nickname was catchy and it was.
Alfonzo widened his stance; there was something comforting in standing on his old stomping ground. Every time he stopped by and saw activity in Uncle Al’s former shop he beamed proudly because Uncle Al’s memory remained alive.
Originally the place housed only a tire repair shop but then Uncle Al renovated after deciding there were bigger bucks in automotive detailing. Back in the day dudes came in and tried to sell stolen high end automotive parts, but Uncle Al wasn’t having that shit and he’d toss them out.
Domingo gestured. “Let’s talk in the office,” he said and walked in the waiting area where a receptionist, slash clerical worker sat texting without a care.
From her unprofessional clothes she must be from around the way. Probably somebody Domingo knew. Cronyism is how many got jobs, but maybe Domingo should’ve gone over the dress code because as cold as it was outside the woman wore practically nothing. Sexual harassment lawsuits are big nowadays, but nobody discusses there are some women wearing what men see as tramp gear. Expose too much skin and men are going to try to cop a feel or make sexual remarks. Their goddamn men!
