LUCA
For what was probably the hundredth time that night, Luca looked around the room. La Tempête Rouge was hardly recognizable. Gianni had transformed their nightclub into a gentlemen’s club. Amazingly, Gianni had installed poles throughout the club and replaced the stage front tables and chairs with plush, leather armchairs. Dinner was prepared and delivered from La Tempête and served by beautiful, topless French women, one of which was sitting on his lap.
Luca puffed the Cuban cigar gifted to him by Frances and listened to soft American jazz. Since Gianni had closed the club to the public, Luca was uncharacteristically at ease. With just his family and a few of his soldiers present, he was able to let down his guard and enjoy his night.
“Are you and Tracy next?” Jack asked Francis.
“Next to do what?” Francis scoffed. “The woman won't even commit to being my girlfriend.”
Luca chuckled. It was obvious that Tracy and Francis were already in a committed relationship. He found it amusing that neither one of them knew it, but he was sure that they would get it together soon. To Luca, Francis was a father, brother, cousin, and best friend, and he wished him nothing less than the happiness he was awarded the day Tammy had agreed to be his wife.
“But you're having a baby,” Gianni commented.
“And that means what? Gianni, Tracy is one of those independent American women. They don't need a man to have a baby.” Francis’ use of air quotes, and the deep frown on his face showed them exactly how he felt about independent American women.
Luca shifted the thin woman on his lap. He had become accustomed to a woman with a bit more meat. The skinny woman was crushing his cock.
“All you have to do is hit her over the head with your club, grab her by the hair, and drag her into your cave,” Jack joked.
“Make fun all you want,” Francis retorted. “But look at your independent American woman. Every man here agrees that Victoria should have been flogged a long time ago.”
Laughter erupted from everyone but Jack. Even Paolo and Lorenzo nodded in agreement.
“Don't talk about my wife,” Jack warned.
“I’m just saying, Jack, the woman doesn't have a submissive bone in her body,” Gianni pointed out.
“And Natasha does? There’s really no difference between your wife and mine. Yes, Victoria will argue, and Natasha won't. But in the end, they both do whatever the hell they want.”
“This is true,” Luca chuckled.
Gianni frowned when Francis laughed and nodded in agreement.
“At least my wife knows how to fake it,” he muttered.
Luca could see that Gianni was having a hard time holding back his own laughter. Truthfully, none of their women could be described as submissive, especially his. When Tammy got angry, her foul language could make a sailor cry. The very thought of the feisty woman that was to be his wife made Luca smile.
The lights dimmed, and the volume of the music increased, interrupting Luca’s thoughts of Tammy. A spotlight aimed at the main stage caught Luca’s attention. He waited, wondering what type of show Gianni had planned, but when he looked over at his cousin, confusion was etched on his face.
Luca sipped his cognac and puffed his cigar. The change in music seemed to motivate the woman on his lap. She began circling her hips and gyrating her bony ass on Luca’s uninspired cock. Gianni had placed her on his lap and instructed the woman to stay put. Before Tammy, Luca would have enjoyed having a naked woman grinding against his cock. But now, she might as well had been a book sitting in his lap. That was how aroused he was at that moment. But who was he to mess with tradition? So he went along.
“What the fuck!?” The sound of Gianni’s angry voice, booming over the music, caused Luca to look up.
“Is that my mom?!” Jack yelled.
