Page 46 of Dirty Mafia King
Interestingly enough, so does his daughter.
“Speaking of famiglia, where’s my favorite godson?”
I anticipated this question and decided the best lies are often sprinkled with truth. “Away nursing a broken heart.”
“And missing his brother’s announcement?”
I meet his eyes. “Seems Renzo developed a fascination with Sandro’s bride. Time away will help him get over it.”
Madonna mia. I should take my own advice. But how can I erase the memory of Little Miss Not-So-Innocent coming so hard, she fucking fainted? With rocket-like speed and from one fat finger. So responsive. So eager. Her eyes would roll into the back of her head if she rode my cock. She’d pass out cold while her juices run wild all over my hard dick. My name her last gasp before blacking out from pleasure.
“I see,” Don Lucchese says, studying me thoughtfully.
I hope the old buzzard needs cataract surgery, and that my poker face is in place. What I need is a party of a different sort, one where I can unleash this pent-up tension I’ve been experiencing ever since little Alessia spread her thighs on my desk.
“I’d like to offer Luca Ricci a cut from New York.” I change the subject to something that surprises the old man.
“Why do that?”
“Politics.” Luca Ricci is my strongest ally. Tossing him a bone will keep him well-fed and loyal. More importantly, it’ll signal to the other capos why working for me, instead of against me, is a motherfucking profitable alliance.
He nods. “And offer Benny a small percent from the Atlanta casino. He took a hit from Conti’s sports facilities shutting down. Two percent should quiet Benny down.”
“One percent.” Benny can choke on his measly percent. “I’ll bump up Dante’s cut with the difference.”
No argument there.
Laughter rings out.
Our attention returns to the lovebirds.
Alessia, bouncing on my son’s lap.
Sandro, feeding her motherfucking grapes.
My blood boils.
I wave to a server, who rushes over. “Tell Nonna we’re ready for the main course.”
* * *
ALESSIA
Deep-seated satisfaction warms my spirits when Don Lucchese asks for a second serving of lamb, but the way Sebastiano Beneventi licks his lips and moans over each bite awakens every fiber of my being.
Lord, he’s sexy when he eats. Head back and eyes closed as he chews. Devouring my dish with intense pleasure.
My effort’s paid off.
Another time, another place, another engagement luncheon where I actually want to be a bride, and I’d bask in my success even more.
Sandro pinches my side, as if I need a reality check. “A little black dress,” he scolds. “How predictable.” He offers me a grape. “At least it’s short like I asked.”
I fake a laugh and turn my head. Resisting the urge to smash the offering into his despicable face.
His fingers squeeze my thigh.
“Stop touching me.”
