Page 3 of Primo DeLuca

Chapter Two

Primo

The vibe of the club scene turned my stomach, and I had a strong one. The sight of multiple men and women soliciting sex, the drink buying rituals, and the public displays of foreplay were for the insecure.

The world was filled with infinite choices and hanging your hopes on finding something worthwhile inside a club was a fucking joke you were playing on yourself. I didn’t have time for the games, tiptoeing around feelings, and role-playing. I blurted my request and demands, and if the woman couldn’t get with it, I moved the hell on, ego unaffected.

Regardless of my opinion about the club, it was where some of the most important DeLuca meetings took place. My cousin, Brizio’s club, Hard Rain, was a premier spot in downtown St. Louis. It was a place to dance and have drinks, eat some of the best toasted ravioli in the city, and enjoy an impressive architectural display that rivaled that of the Cathedral Basilica of Saint Louis. The club was not only praised by local celebs, but it was also a quick and painless way of distributing a large percentage of our product.

I worked my way up the organizational hierarchy and sat in what I liked to call a middle management position. My responsibilities included safeguarding the lives of hundreds of men as well as millions of dollars from our business ventures.

Drugs, gambling, prostitution, and theft were among the products and services we offered. Construction and real estate were the foundations in which most of our ventures were built.

I lingered in the darkness clinging to the tight alley along the side of Hard Rain, after instructing my cousin Umberto to drop me off there. My eyes roamed, scanning my surroundings with sharp eagle-eyed precision before stepping out and marching to the front of the line waiting for entry.

The guards manning the front doors made eye contact with me at my approach. One removed the metal chain they used as a minor barrier to keep out unwanted guests. The other gave me a two-fingered salute and a nod before I moved past him to step through the thick hardwood doors.

The music slapped me in the face the moment I stepped inside. Noise. Hot bodies, moving and gyrating. Drunken shouts, slurred speaking, and groping. My throat tightened when I inhaled a whiff of that desperate-for-sex scentpermeating the air.

Fuck, I hated clubs.

“Primo DeLuca,” a delicate female voice purred and somehow managed to project over the music. I turned to find Leandra DeLuca, the wife of the former Capo of St. Louis, my cousin Emmanuelle DeLuca. Even though he’d been dead for two years now, we respected Leandra because she was known for putting in work on the family’s behalf, solidifying her loyalty and worth.

“Leandra.” I offered her a nod and forced a smile.

She reached up to touch my face, but I wasn’t having that shit. I drew back, flashing her a severe side eye in warning.

The woman’s persistence amazed me. She smoothly ignored my warning, went up on her toes, and landed a kiss on my cheek. I endured her unwanted advances out of respect and always did my best not to lead her on in any way.

This dance of unreciprocated attentiveness had been ongoing between us for years. I was just not interested. I gave her credit for being a beautiful woman with her deep olive skin, waist-length dark hair, and stripper-fit body, but it took more than good looks to pique my interest.

She hadn’t mentioned anything about her attack tonight, too busy concentrating on winning my affections. I liked Leandra as a person, respected her for the lengths she would go through to protect the DeLuca name, but a romance with her was never, nor would it ever be in the cards.

“Can we talk alone? I have a few updates I need to give you.”

I nodded, reading her lips since only half her words cut through the noise. She turned and headed towards the area in the back of the club where the offices were located.

We ducked into the second door down the hall, one of the small stockrooms. Once inside, she stood in place, staring me down from head to toe.

“Did you hear about what happened to me tonight?”

“I heard.”

I hoped my usual unbothered expression didn’t make me come off as an insensitive prick. Although I cared about her well-being as much as any of my men, all I wanted at this point was for her to relay the information and go on about her business after I mapped out a quick plan.

“They were in a dark SUV. It could have been a Jeep. I didn’t get a look at any of their faces or anything. You think it has something to do with what happened in Italy to Don Ermanno?”

“I’ll have to investigate, but it’s possible. I’ll have Lenni and Umberto shadow you for a while and make sure this wasn’t something random.”

“Thank you, Primo. I appreciate that. What about you? The bruise on the side of your head is saying you may have encountered some trouble tonight yourself?”

“I’m fine. Minor car crash. A few scratches and bruises, nothing detrimental to my health.”

When I didn’t offer more, she stood there staring before her face lit up with an idea I was sure I didn’t want to hear.

“You thought about what I proposed?”

My jaw clenched tight against the amount of effort it took to stop myself from sighing in frustration.

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