Page 8 of Primo DeLuca

Chapter Four

Primo

The meeting was being carried out with a cryptic vibe despite my implied warning on the contrary to the men about my new woman. However, in this case, it was a good thing they hadn’t listened.

Was I insanely attracted to this woman who literally walked in and called out to me in a language I didn’t understand but had enough sense to hear? Fucking right I was. I had to be if I were willing to continue with the meeting as though nothing had changed. I didn’t know a damn thing about her, yet I couldn’t help keeping an arm wrapped securely around her waist.

She could have been the hitter The Malizioso sent to kill me. However, my ability to read people hadn’t failed me yet, and it said she wasn’t a threat. Her hold on me had loosened but she hadn’t let go, a revealing action that implied that our instant attraction was mutual.

Allowing her to stay for the rest of our meeting was an action that outweighed my words. The men in this room rarely saw me with a woman, much less claiming one as emphatically as I was this one.

Their minds were blown to hell and back, and by continuing my uncharacteristic actions, they remained on edge. I read the questions in their inquisitive gazes, but they trusted the strength of my leadership enough to proceed, despite their predatory instincts.

Other than who hired a hitman to kill me, there was another question on my mind I needed to answer. What was it about this particular woman that had me breaking my own rules? Though it wasn’t a written one, I would have chewed off the head of any of my men for pulling a stunt like this.

My gaze dropped away from the person speaking, and big, innocent brown eyes met mine with interest and questions blazing in their compelling depths. She understood that she had walked into the wrong room based on the sorrow reflecting in her gaze and the stress etched in the subtle creases of her face and stiff body. I sensed her intense train of thought and tasted hints of her fear on my tongue, but she managed to keep it in check enough to show me that her strengths outweighed her fears.

“I believe you need to consider the protection detail, Capo,” Fernando insisted with his palms up. I shook my head at the suggestion.

“Like I mentioned earlier, all I need to do is kill the one or more coming for me—before they kill me.”

My arrogance was showing, but I didn’t know any other way. However, by claiming the sexy woman in my arms, I was inadvertently drawing her into my world, creating an even bigger mess. At this moment, I wasn’t altogether sure if I was helping her or sentencing her to a life of unadulterated savagery. All I knew was that I didn’t want anyone else’s hands on her for any reason.

Helpless to stop it, my gaze dropped and lingered on her before I gave a little squeeze to her waist to ease her tension. She was one of the most gorgeous women I ever encountered and that was saying a lot considering women came a dime a dozen in our world.

I sensed the invisible rays of light shining within her, the glow of their warmth breezing along my skin. The goodness she possessed was pulling my darkness in like a high-powered vacuum set on maximum suction. Hidden deep under her glow, I spotted the glimmers of darkness she possessed. She hadn’t lived a sheltered life.

Despite all the drama, the hit out on me, and the death of my late Don, a rare urge to smile took over whenever she filled my view. Her skin, like warm, flowing maple syrup, cast a refreshing glow against the lighting in the room. She projected an angelic radiance that kept stealing my attention as much as those big brown eyes of hers.

Her hair was up in a neat bun pinned at the crown of her head, disguising its true length. The style added an elegance to her appearance that I rarely saw in a club setting. Her overall style was flirty-sexy, giving just enough to show that she was a sexy woman, while tempting your desire to see more. She wore faded, ripped jeans, sassy black heels, and a stylish multi-colored top that highlighted her tall, sexy frame.

In heels, she was about three inches shorter than my six-foot-three height, an indication that she was at least five-eight. She gave off that fresh-from-the-shower scent, an invigorating mix of honey blossoms kissed by the remnants of a good dream.

Her appearance kept me intrigued, and although the men were tense about her presence, I hadn’t missed the admiring glimpses that strayed in her direction and lingered when they thought I wasn’t paying attention.

This strange pull she had on me was something I had never encountered. Therefore, I couldn’t apply reasoning for it to make sense. I hadn’t determined yet if it was a problem.

For her sake and mine, I couldn’t afford to be distracted, yet I did nothing to talk myself out of this situation. I didn’t even know this woman’s name, and she had managed to do what no other ever had—draw my undivided attention.

She could have stumbled into many places but had somehow landed in a room filled with savage killers. In a way, I felt sorry for her, an emotion I'd learned to suppress.

Without any convincing on her part, I placed her on a pedestal that told my guys she was important enough for them to respect. My stance with her, whether she realized it or not, made her one of the most targeted, protected, and spotlighted women in St. Louis.

She had no idea she was in the arms of “Hades,” the name people sometimes used when they referred to me. The name represented how often I served up death, delivering unexpected and mostly horrific endings to those unlucky enough to land in my path.

“I’ve heard enough,” I stated, breaking into a complaint Orlando had managed to wrap in a neatly veiled suggestion. There were times the men would complain about the most menial things, aware they would get ignored. It was also their way of checking to see if I would consider their point valid enough for more attention.

Since I only gave them one chance to mess up, they were careful in how they conducted business. One costly slip that resulted in someone’s health or life, and I sentenced them to my death chambers.

The chambers were two soundless, dark, and cold underground rooms the men would earn time inside. Of all the punishments I endured during my training, and once when I was captured, the dark emptiness of being trapped with my own mind was the worst. The mind-torture far exceeded any physical pain I ever suffered.

My chambers worked wonders on the men who visited them as they did everything in their power to avoid returning. Not to mention the parting gift I gave them when their stint was done. I gave them the choice to pick a finger, ear, tongue, nipple, or toe, the part didn’t matter, but they would lose something as a reminder to never fuck up again.

The tips of my ring and pinky fingers on my right hand had been hacked off with a rusty bone saw. Therefore, I knew the value of loss and would never do to my men what I hadn’t already endured. Experience on both sides of punishment taught me that it was one of the best motivational tools.

The ten men who had been motivated during my reign as Capo, so far, were now among the best at their jobs and often given more authority because they were most likely to succeed. They were also the best advocates for assuring that others did their jobs well.

Years before I was Capo, and up until his death, I, along with three others, worked exclusively for our late DonErmanno. For the past two years, there were times I pulled double duty when an order came directly from the Don.

The work was what I liked to call mafia black-ops, which included off-the-book operations that benefited the family. The details of my assignments were never disclosed to the family, and in most cases, they didn’t know anything had ever occurred.

The men didn’t question me when I gave weak excuses and disappeared for days and sometimes weeks at a time. They naturally assumed I was handling Capo business, the job a suitable cover for what I had really been trained to become—a DeLuca assassin.

The news of my hit resurfaced and blasted away my raging thoughts. There was also the new lady in my life that I too easily volunteered to take responsibility for. The timing was fucked up, but I wanted her and somehow sensed that the attraction was more than sexual. Some force within me had zeroed in on her like a heat-seeking missile. Now that the connection had been acknowledged, I didn’t know how to disconnect.

All I needed to do now was figure out how to work all this shit out without fucking up the world and killing everyone who spiked my suspicions from Missouri all the way to Sicily.

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