I can still feel the weight of it against my tonsils for a moment as I toss around, searching for the light switch. I’m sweating and breathing heavily, as if I’ve actually been fooling around with him. Good grief! I can’t believe the depth of my perversion. What would Francisco think if he knew I was dreaming about sucking his cock?
I can’t help but smile, knowing that he probably wouldn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, he might just enjoy it.
CHAPTER 14
FRANCISCO
I’m trapped in my office again, just like always. I’ve just said goodbye to one of the capos from last night’s party. He crashed on one of the benches in the pavilion, and we didn’t discover him until this morning. I gave him a stern talking-to before letting him slink away. It’s bad optics to let my people get that drunk, especially in front of me.
It wasn’t only mobsters last night. The mayor was here, and there were several CEOs of various companies with whom I have deals. I’m sure everyone knows what business we’re all in together, but I don’t like to flaunt it. Having people crash like it’s a frat house is distasteful.
He managed to pull himself together and apologized profusely. I docked him a week’s pay and made sure he was sober enough to drive. The last thing I need is for the cops, who are camped out across the street, to pull someone over for driving under the influence. Who knows what might give them the ammunition they’re looking for to search my home.
Of course, the law has gotten more proficient over the years. I don’t actually know that they’re camped out across the street.In fact, I’ve visited the elderly couple who owns the house a few times, just to make sure. It seems like a convenient spot for a stakeout, but as far as I can tell, it’s just the two of them living out their retirement.
I’m having a hard time concentrating after last night. There are a thousand things to do. I’ve got to come up with a way to approach Carlo Andretti and his gang. One thing will lead to another, and if I don’t nip it in the bud, he’s going to do a lot worse than hassling my capos. He might come all the way to the top and make a move on me. Stranger things have happened. I’m not eager for history to repeat itself with the likes of the Valentine’s Day massacre. I like my head right where it is, and I prefer my heart beating, thank you very much.
I suppose I ought to go pay Andretti a visit, or at least make a phone call. But before I can do that, I get sucked into my email. I have a few accounts for a few different things. One is dedicated to banking, and another is for private drops. Each message is written in code unless it’s entirely aboveboard. I scroll through each of the four inboxes. More work. More phone calls. It never ends.
There’s a knock on the door, calling my attention away from the computer. I’m not aware of any meeting scheduled. I didn’t get a notice from Edoardo about anyone new at the house, which means it’s probably Giovanni or one of my staff members.
“Come in,” I call, closing the laptop out of an abundance of precaution.
Marlena surprises me by stepping inside. She props the door open and reaches out into the hallway to lift a box that is half as big as she is. Setting it down against the wall, she moves toward the desk but stops about three feet away.
I get up, crossing the room to stand beside her. “What’s this?”
“It’s the dress,” she says. “And the shoes and the jewelry.”
“Why?” I wonder. It seems like an odd thing to bring with her.
“I’m giving them back,” she says uncomfortably. “I can’t accept them. They’re too extravagant.”
“Please,” I insist, smiling gently. “I want you to have them.”
“But I can’t,” she responds firmly. “I don’t want to be indebted to you.”
I bristle. The implications of her statement are clear. She knows who I am and what I can do, and she wants no part of it. I can’t believe how much it hurts, but I force myself to remain calm. I don’t have much experience with rejection, nor do I want it. If she were anyone else, I would sit her down and force her to reconsider. As it is, I can tell that any attempt on my part to change her mind will come up against a brick wall.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I manage.
“I’m afraid I have to…” she begins, looking away as if it’s painful to meet my eyes.
I’m not going to make this easy for her. I don’t want to hear it anymore than she wants to say it. I get a flashback to my younger days when I was chasing around after Jenny Livingston. The girl looked stunning in a fuzzy pink sweater, and she was barely fifteen years old. Jenny was the only woman who ever turned me down. After she made it clear that I didn’t measure up, I swore I would never be rejected again. Years later, and it is happening all over again, only now I’m the don, and I should be immune to this kind of heartache.
“Don’t,” I command.
“I have to,” she whispers. “I can’t stay here.”
I don’t trust myself to speak. I’m afraid if I lay down the law, I’ll shout. I don’t want to scare her, which is a new sensation for me. I’m used to scaring everyone. In fact, it’s one of the primary ways I motivate my business associates.
But Marlena has me by the heartstrings, and I would do anything to avoid seeing her cry. Anything except making it easy for her to leave me.
“What if I offered you more money?” I suggest.
She shakes her head defiantly, her beautiful lips pressed shut. I can see by the downward turn of her eyes and the stress lines on her forehead that she’s close to tears. I fight the urge to force her into a chair and keep her there against her will.
She turns and runs, her face buried in delicate hands. I watch her go, powerless to stop her. Her silky brown hair tossing around her shoulders is the last thing I see as she slips out the door. And I’m left stunned, impotent, and seething.
