Page 285 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

“Wow, that’s…graphic,” Dante says, nudging me. “You hear that, Romo? She’s definitely not your biggest fananymore. You’re gonna have to do lot of work to get her on her back, bro.”

“He’s not getting me on my back!” Marchella yells, her fists clenched. “He’s not getting anything from me except a fucking right hook if he dares to come too close! He’s a slimy, derelict thug bastard who drugged me, beat up my brother, and kidnapped me! And the only reason I’m here right now, the only reason why I haven’t clawed out his eyes with my fingernails, is because of Frankie.” She turns to me, her chest heaving. “Trust me, though,Romo. I am fucking stabbing you with a hot poker in my mind right now!”

Dante turns to me with an eyebrow lifted. “What the fuck does Frankie have to do with this?”

“Long story.”

Dante looks between us. “I’ve got time.” He walks over to the bar. He pulls a bottle of tequila off of one of the shelves and pours three highball glasses of the clear liquid. “Since you have no more Jack,” he says with a pointed look at me.

“Next time you invade my space, I’ll make sure I have a fucking case,” I grumble, turning the glass away when he tries to hand it to me.

Marchella takes hers, though. She tilts her head back and gulps it down before Dante has a chance to raise his to his lips. Then she grabs my shot and guzzles that one, too. Her face contorts as the liquid fights a path down her throat. She then holds up her empty glass, pointing it at me. “He had one of his goons shoot me with a freaking tranquilizer gun!”

Dante pours her another shot and she drinks it down, her lips twisting yet again. I can tell Dante is enjoying this little show, especially since he’s not the one in the line of fire. He smirks at me, leaning against the bar, still in his fucking towel. “I’m waiting for more. I have a feeling this is gonna get good.”

“Do you know what he had the nerve to do before shooting me on the street while I was trying to help a tiny little stray dog?” she says, a little slur lacing her words since she probably has nothing in her stomach at all. She walks toward me, holding out her glass and pointing. “This sick bastard stalked me in the park and sexually assaulted me! In public!”

“Tsk-tsk, Romo,” Dante says with a shake of his head. “Have I taught you nothing?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake! I didn’t assault her! I kissed her!” I focus my glare on Marchella’s now-flushed face. “And if I recall, you loved it! It’s not assault if you were begging for it!”

“What?”she shrieks. “Don’t flatter yourself, dick! I didn’t beg for any of that! You saw me and took advantage of the situation! I should have dumped that whole bottle of scotch on your lap last night at the restaurant!”

I stomp toward her, my jaw twitching because I have so many more words to hurl at her, but more than yelling, I want to pin her against the wall and run my hands down the sides of her trim torso. I want to feel her body plastered against me, her lips crushed against mine.

Again and again.

Luckily, before I can act on any of it, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out to see Matteo’s name flash across the screen. I can’t send him to voicemail again, so I stab the Accept button.

“Romo, what’s going on? I tried calling you before. Why didn’t you call me back?”

I rub the back of my head “I, ah, was in the middle of a meeting. I was gonna get back to you tonight. How’s Heaven?”

My sister-in-law, Heaven, is about eight months’ pregnant right now, and from the looks of her, ready to pop any day. That’s the reason why they decided to stay in Vegas for a while longer. She hasn’t been able to fly, and they have a pretty posh setup at our family’s hotel, The Excelsior. Matteo is using the time to his advantage, working hard to expand our businesses out West along with a few other mafia families of Red Ladro, the syndicate we formed a little over a year ago.

“She’s good. Crankier than usual.”

“Keep her away from her gun,” I say with a snicker. Heaven is famous for her red-hot Irish temper and has been known to let off steam by firing off a few rounds whenever she gets the urge. She’s controlled herself throughout the pregnancy, but it sounds like she might just snap like a rubber band, and it’s only exacerbated by the fact that she can’t down whiskey right now either. “But keep your fridge stocked with those chocolate tarts she loves so much from Bouchon Bakery.”

“I know. She can eat her weight in those damn things.” He chuckles for a second. “How’s everything going with the clubs? You haven’t had any issues with the suppliers, have you?”

I let out a small sigh of relief. He obviously isn’t plugged into what’s been happening out here.

Looks like my actions against Salvatore, Dario, and Frankie—rash and vicious as they may have been—gave my crew the jolt they needed and resurrected some respect for me and my role. Maybe there is something to be said for using brute force to command respect.

“No issues,” I say because there was no issue with the suppliers. They brought exactly what we agreed upon. The issue is with the bastards who are still faceless and nameless until I can get my pal Frankie to sell them out.

But what Matteo doesn’t know won’t hurt him. It may killme, but that’s not for him to worry about. It’s for me to fix.

“Good. I was afraid I’d have to crack some skulls. I know I’ve been gone for a lot longer than I originally said, but it’s been good to build relationships out here. And I know you’ve got things covered in the city.”

“Yeah,” I say, my throat tight.

“By the way, there is another reason for my call. There’s an event tomorrow night and I need you to go in my place. It’s some charity ball sponsored by a bunch of stuffy politicians who we need to keep in our back pockets. It’ll be good for you to get out there and network. I know you’ve spent a lot of time behind the scenes, but it’s time to get you out and rubbing elbows, you know?”

I nod. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’ll text you all the details. You think you can find a date between now and then?”

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