Page 3 of Tammaro DeLuca

“Hey son, sit down. Let me tell you what’s going on.”

Hesitantly, I went over and sat down at the table for him to explain. I heard what he’d said to my mother, but figured there was more to the story, and I was right. He told me about his wife in Florida, their three children, and the life he lived. Now that the truth was out, he expected me to join the family business. My father wanted me to keep my hands clean, bringing in another stream of income that would help keep him off the streets and out of jail. I wasn’t a fool. I knew if I didn’t help, my mother and I would be disposable to him.

Instead of being angry, I did exactly what he needed me to. What he didn’t expect was for me to become so valuable that I’d be irreplaceable. Initially, I took my mother to be weak. Later, I understood her move. It was like chess. She played the dutiful second wife and did everything he asked of her. However, the love was gone. She tolerated her position for what it was. As time moved on, I saw the strength in her. She did what she needed to, and it got us what we deserved. Justice. She became my partner in maneuvering this world and we became stronger.

Amid it, I forgot about love and the value of it became lost to me. Yolanda was just a fling a very long time ago and I couldn’t give her love because I didn’t know what it was. At least, not in the way a man is supposed to love his woman. What I came to understand was how to look out for me and mine–that included my mother. Everything else was part of a history I couldn’t afford to dwell on.

I had to survive.

So I did.

TAMMARO

Iwatched in complete disgust as Beni got up on that stage and pretended like he was this good man. ‘Til death fucking do them part, right? For a second, I thought about killing both my brothers and my sister when Papà told me about them. His family in the states. It explained why he was away more than he was present. They lived the perfect fucking life over here while I had to work for everything I got from him.

Look at ‘em. Marrying that fucking woman like she’s going to understand what we do. This life is for real men. Something he’s not. If he were about this way of living, he’d have known how his entire dynasty worked. Instead, he only knew about pieces of it, distracted by pussy and that baby she was carrying. If he focused, he would have been able to protect Papà better. I blamed him for his death. How could he leave him so vulnerable? The services for him were mediocre at best and because they didn’t know that I existed, I didn’t even get the invite to come. The elders back home delivered the news.

The elders also suspected that Beni had something to do with his death. They tasked me with watching Beni and making sure he was the right man for the job. No, he wasn’t. Papà raised me to run things on both coasts, so why should I pretend I supported the shift of power to him? Sending me back here with em’ was just a ruse for me to find out if it were true or not. If I wanted a chance at taking over, I had to prove that either he killed our father or he wasn’t fit to rule. Either way, the throne was going to be mine.

When the song and dance of being his groomsman was over, the reception was where things got good. The food was the best I've had since I'd been here, and I couldn’t stop looking at Cara. The more I drank, the more I thought about her sexy ass. She had this wild and untamable aura that only made me want to get her underneath me, submitting to whatever I needed from her. She walked past me and waved shyly. A complete oxymoron from her appearance. Had I read the room wrong? I followed her to the bar to find out what was up.

“You're beautiful,” I said.

“Excuse me?” She turned her head, trying to hide her blushing cheeks. I'd already seen them, though.

“If you gave me the opportunity, I'd…” I let the words die on the tip of my tongue, but my eyes traveled along her curves as she leaned against the bar top, giving me the perfect view of her ample profile.

Her expression changed to one of disgust. “Tammaro, listen, if you–”

“Call me Ro.” I corrected, but tried to figure out what I missed.

“Okay, Ro, if you are only interested in sex…”

“I didn’t say that I was.” I chuckled. “But I'm not into floating hearts and the romance shit either.”

“‘Floating hearts and the romance…’ Look, let’s forget about this conversation. If romance is a deal breaker for you, then you definitely don’t want any part of anything with me.” She grabbed her drinks she'd ordered and turned quickly, walking away.

“But—” It didn't matter what I was about to say because she was gone. She left the bar area without another word. “Fuck.”

A soft laugh caught my attention to the right. I turned to see a stunning woman sitting there. Wearing a similar dress to Cara, her breasts stole the show harnessed in a heart-shaped bodice that contained them nicely, but unzipping that gown would have those golden brown, soft looking motherfuckers in my hands. Standing behind her, I'd be all the damn support she needed.

Yolanda. Fifteen years of history died, and it transported me back to the day that I met her. She was even more beautiful than she was then.

“Something funny?” I asked. I treaded carefully, not knowing whether she recognized me.

“Was that your A-game?” She smiled coyly, then sipped from whatever girly ass drink she had in front of her. Purple with fruit, pineapple, strawberries, and cherries. Wait, were those grapes too? She had a fucking fruit salad in a deep goblet. What did she know about anything? A-game. What was that nonsense?

“A-game?” I quizzed, not knowing the answer myself, but her tone indicated that it wasn't a compliment.

“Was that the best pickup line you have? Were you trying to run her off on purpose?”

“Of course not.” That was a stupid question. Sexy, but maybe not that bright. What happened to her?

I'd been in America for all of five minutes and the women hadn't impressed me yet, including the one I knew used to have a brilliant mind. Beautiful, but not intelligent. That could benefit me.

“How about a drink to take away the burn?” she asked.

“No, you hurt my feelings.” I lied, pretending she had. Did she not recognize me?

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