Page 3 of Taken By the Mob Boss

“We have to go to the toilet,” I say. My face is one of disgust. “I think some grandma got a little too excited in the changing room watching her grand-daughter try on a dress or something, cause—” I hold up my wrist to Rocko and Seb’s faces. They get a whiff of my wrist and both gag.

“Dio mio,” Seb says. “What the hell is that?”

“I dunno,” I say. “But it’s on the couch. We’ve both been in it. We gotta wash our hands,” I say, pulling Mimi along.

Rocko is still wiping his eyes and trying to sniff his own cologne, as Seb answers for them “Not getting that dress then?” he asks hopefully.

I shake my head. “No, not today.” then after a pause. “But you know father’s rule! We’ll meet you at the toilets,” I say, pulling Mimi along. We don’t wait for his reply and run through Nathan’s shop and out the doors into the mall.

I know that Seb and Rocko will talk with Nathan and get the dress packed up anyway, it’s always father’s demand that I don’t come home empty handed. So I know we’ve got a bit of time.

“How come you never did that earlier?” Mimi laughs, as we run away, suddenly free and peeling out into the streets of South Beach.

“I don’t know,” I reply. “Maybe the reason wasn’t good enough.”

“Uh, excuse me?” Mimi says, looking at me out the side of her eyes.

“Please honey, I can see you any day. But a Piovere and Tommy Lippee?

We both giggle and cross the street between cars full of people and taxicabs. People are everywhere and the street is pumping. The sun has set and the silhouettes of the palm trees linger before us. The air is hot and the scent of the street is full of food. We weave down the sidewalk, giggling like idiots and not looking back for Seb or Rocko.

We pass a few hotels and cross another street, after another corner the neon haze of Hush appears. The black building is divided by a single pink neon line. It eventually spirals into a glowing finger pressed against a giant set of lips.Hush!Is written beside it.

My whole body is humming. I’m so close to seeing real Piovere dresses worn by real Piovere models.

Even if we’re headed to an enemy family’s club.It’s worth it.

I can feel it, I’m going to be a fashion designer.

Chapter 2

Luca

“Ijustlovethefeel of a crisp fucking suit,” Marco says, rolling his shoulders and looking at himself in the mirror.

“Well, that one begins at ten grand,” I say, taking a sip of my rum.

“Probably why I like it,” Marco grins, looking at me through the mirror. “I mean, is it tailored for me or what?” He turns and looks at himself from different angles. “Look at this ass. This is the ass of a god.” He looks at me expectantly.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “We’ve got bigger things to think about Marco,” I say.

We’re up in my office, overlooking the club through a one way mirror. Below the crew is setting up for the show tonight. It’s ingenious, one of my best ideas yet. I don’t like to gloat. But sometimes … I love to gloat. I take another sip of my drink.

“So you wanna go over it again?” I ask.

“Not really,” Marco laughs. “We’ve done nothing but discuss tonight for the last two months.” He steps away from the mirror and rubs his nose. He must’ve brought some coke with him.

“Well I want to,” I grunt. I don’t react to Marco rolling his eyes and folding his arms. Had it been anyone else, I would’ve lost my head and began screaming at them. But I’ve known Marco for years. We’ve been friends since I was eighteen. He’s like a brother.

“Man, we know the plan. We’ve gone over it, and over it. I know. You know. The whole fucking family knows,” Marco says. “We all know which dress is what drug, what it represents and the quantities to order. I’ve updated all the special VIPs as to the order of showing too. You can trust me,” he finishes, sincerely.

I crack my knuckles and roll my head around in my hands. I know we’ve gone over it a million times. I know we’ve gone over it more than we needed to. I’m just nervous. I’m thirty eight fucking years old andnervous. Then again, nothing has ever had so much riding on it.

“Now,” Marco says, putting hands on hips. “There’s ladies down there that weigh half your weight and suck dicks like a vacuum cleaner. I say you take the advantage to blow some steam off. I know I will tonight.”

I finish my rum and walk to the window. I don’t reply to Marco as I watch everything happening below. If everything goes to plan, this will cement my position in the family. Surely after this, my father will finally let me step up to being the Don. He’s hinted at it enough times.

From our eagle’s nest I can see the backstage we’ve made behind some quick curtains that have been hung from the ceiling. Adrian’s there organizing everything like a military sergeant, and Tommy Lippee, our in-house designer, is floating around with a Martini in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The two of them are the shortest men in a sea of women all heads taller, but as viscous as vipers.

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