Page 8 of Capo Baby, All Of Your Heart Will Do
I take a few bites of lasagna, and then I look at my Dad walking into his office. I watch him fall onto his dark red leather chair, turning on his laptop. A few minutes later, a tall man walks into his office.
Fuck!
That mafioso is the only one that makes me want to meet him, but that would be fucking stupid, right?
I’ve seen him a couple of times; he’s a soldier for the Mafia. I don’t know his name, and Dad wouldn’t talk about him; he ignores all of my questions, but I’m not stupid.
That man is a soldier, I know it. He looks fucking dark, lethal, oh but so damn sexy. He should scare me, but he doesn’t. He’s tall, muscular but not bulky, more athletic, and lean. Something about him calls me even though I hate it to feel anything for this soldier. I only see his profile when he walks into the room. I’ve never seen his face but what I’ve seen is so damn hot.
He never stays long, and I watch him leave looking at his tight ass.
Damn!
I look at my Dad making a phone call, moving his mouse around.
I shrug, pushing off the chair, walking back into the kitchen, placing my plate and fork in the sink. I walk down the hall, up the stairs, and to my room. I’m so damn glad that my room is on the other side of the house, far away from my Dad’s bedroom.
Three
Cristiano
“Humph,” Ted grunts, one of the guards standing at the front door. The other guard opens the door, lifting his chin.
“Uggh,” I grunt, walking into the foyer, down to the motherfucker Winter’s office.
“Winter,” I say, walking into the office, stoned faced.
“What the fuck! You’re always fucking ruining my dinner,” Winter snarls, walking over to the bar, grabbing two crystal glasses, pouring the golden liquid into the glasses.
He walks over to his desk, handing me a glass of whiskey. I take the drink, pursing my lips, trying not to snap his fucking head off.
“The Capo, Bruno wants you to take care of officer Smith by paying him off, but if he refuses, we’ll take the next step. Did you contact the Senator? Cappola wants him,” I say, moving the crystal glass up to my lips, and I take a pull of the whiskey, looking out of the huge window at bella Noelle.
Fuckingtastic!
There she is, as beautiful as ever, sending my heart racing, and all of my blood rushes south. I love everything about her; she’s perfect.
Damn, I need to get out of here because I can’t talk to her; it’s not a good idea. She’s the Associate’s daughter, and I know that Winter’s has other plans for her. I’m just a soldato, a Made Man, and I’m not worthy of her.
I curl my fingers tight, digging my nails into my palm.
“I’ve contacted Senator Moss, and I’ll take care of Officer Soto,” Tomas says, running his hand through his thinning black and pepper hair.
“Excellent. I’ll give the Capo an update,” I say, nodding looking at Noelle.
“D’Angelo did the Capo Bruno decide on making me a Made Man,” Tomas Winter asks, taking a pull of his whiskey.
I turn away from the window, looking at Tomas Winter, raising my eyebrow. He looks fucking tired, old, his face looks grayish, and the lines around his eyes are deeper.
I take a pull of my whiskey, lowering my eyes, shaking my head.
The man wants in, and it’s not going to happen; Cappola doesn’t want him in.
“Tomas, the books are closed, and the Capo doesn’t know when the Boss will open the books for the Cappola family. There’s also the issue that you’re not of full Italian descent, and the Boss is still thinking about making an exception,” I say, stone-faced.
I think that it’s fucking not happening unless hell freezes over. It’s not my place to give him all of the details; I’m just the soldier.
“What the hell does that mean? Does it mean that the Don isn’t taking any new soldato? I’m not going to become a Made Man anytime soon. I’ve been working hard proving my worth in order to be evaluated and selected to get baptized,” Tomas snarls, throwing the crystal glass at the wall.
