Page 18 of DeLucas After Dark

It was not a request. Sheree understood my body language. She took my proffered hand and joined me on the wooden dance floor. We swayed to the music as I informed her that the bastard was gone, and she didn’t have to worry about him again. I escorted her back to her friends and bowed my head at the ladies.

The DJ started playing this upbeat song that had my feet moving on their own. It had been so long since I danced, that I decided to stay out on the floor, and show these young people how things were done. I raised my hand and beckoned for my nephews to join me on the floor.

They all surrounded me, and we began doing a family dance that went back to the early 1900s. As the rapper sang about blowing a whistle, my nephews and I paraded around that floor having the time of our lives. Since it was my welcome home party, I decided to act like it. I was known in the world of organized crime as a notorious killer, but to my nephews, I was the fun uncle. I wasn’t about to let them down.

The boys circled around me moving clockwise as I showed them how it was done. Before long, all the men at the party had joined in. I laughed as the boys started chanting my name and egging me on. It was the most fun I had had in a long time. It was good to be home.

I made my way over to the bar and when I looked up, Mario was grinning at me. Apparently, he had left the other men to clean up duty. I soon saw why. He started chatting up the beautiful Sheree. She would be good for him. From the look of things, they were going to be together for the long haul. The boy looked like he was head over heels for that woman. She looked just as gone for him.

I was happy for Mario. That little scene made me nostalgic for my woman. The one who I refused to see for over twenty years, because I couldn’t bear her seeing me locked up like an animal. Now, I wished I hadn’t pushed her away.

My eyes must have been playing tricks on me. It couldn’t be the drink because I hadn’t even taken a sip yet. My mind must have been manifesting my greatest wish. All I wanted was to see Marguerite again.

“Welcome home, Fausto.”

Fuck, I wasn’t hallucinating. She was really here. I smiled the biggest smile, as she stood there looking like a goddess.

“Marguerite, is that really you?”

“It really is. Maybe if you hadn’t refused to see me over the last two decades, you would know what I looked like, now.”

“Oh, baby, I could never forget you. I see you in my dreams every night.”

She rolled her eyes like she was annoyed, but I didn’t miss the smile that grew on her face. The fact that she was here, at my party, told me everything I needed to know. Marguerite was mine and I couldn’t wait to make up the last twenty years to her. Merry Christmas to me! I’ve been such a naughty boy.

The End

Enjoyed this story? Be sure to leave a review! You can also preorder Fausto DeLuca My Book And don’t forget to download Nicolo DeLuca My Book to pick up another prequel story in this series!

USA Today Bestselling Author, L. Loren, holds a Business Management Degree from the University of Mount Olive. As a former call center supervisor, her desire to write lay dormant for years, until she found the courage to live her dream. She is currently based in North Carolina with her loving and supportive husband.

Follow her on social media:

http://llorenwriter.com

Amazon

SURVIVING CHRISTMAS

VALENTINO DELUCA 1.5

BY MELVERNA MCFARLANE

ABOUT SURVIVING CHRISTMAS

A simple favor lands Sloane, Tácito, and Valentino in Bari, but simplicity ends at the plane ride. Thrust in a deadly dance, secrets begin to unfold, testing the strength of their love. The three must work together to survive and reestablish the bonds that drew them together.

VALENTINO

Atense air permeates my brother’s household. His guards wave me into the penthouse suite and immediately lose interest in me. Their stiff posture and pinched lips speak to being on high alert.

As I traverse the halls, there are more signs that my brother’s home is in crisis from the domestic staff’s shifty glances to the guards’ hushed voices.

“He’s in the office,” the housekeeper says on my approach.

I nod and turn down the hall where Sansone holds his formal meetings. The closer I get to the door, the clearer his voice becomes. He isn’t yelling, but there is a barely leashed viciousness in his tone as he upbraids his men.

“If you’ve swept this place as thoroughly as you said, why am I still receiving these picture?”

---