I drop my hand from her face, and I make my way to the bathroom where her clothes sit in a pile on the floor. I kick the door shut, lock it and stumble slightly as I bend to pick up her stuff. Setting it on top of the vanity, I lift my head and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I try to see what she sees. I stare and I stare hard, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.
The youth may be naïve, but it’s the seasoned that cling to hope.
Raising my hand, I lay my palm on the mirror, covering my face from my view. My phone rings inside my pocket and I close my eyes. Forcing my head back into the game, I drop my hand from the mirror and reach for my phone. My uncle’s number flashes across the screen and I silence the call. When it stops ringing altogether, I dismiss the notification. I call the airline and change my flight to a later one.
Tomorrow I’m going to have to make a pit stop at the bank and take fifty grand out of my safe deposit box to give to my uncle. I’ll look him in the eye, hand him the stack of cash and tell him Mitch’s debt is paid in full.
The guy got off easy tonight.
Aside from the ten thousand he had in the safe and the three gold chains burning a hole in my pocket, he gets to live.
One day out of the year.
No lying.
No cheating.
No stealing.
No killing.
Happy birthday, mom.
This one is for you.
Chapter 4
Rocco Spinelli
Two months later
Tucking my swollen cock back inside my pants, a red lace thong catches my eye. Things were just starting to get interesting between me and what’s her name. I’m not referring to the broad who only moments ago was spread across my desk with her legs wrapped around my head—she was mediocre—but the girl who was under the desk sucking on my cock? She was fucking fantastic.
I lift the thong with my finger and twirl it around. I wonder if these are hers.
Not that it matters, by now the kissing cousins or maybe they’re sisters, I don’t remember—
whatever they are, they’re likely getting each other off in the elevator or looking for some other guy to finish what I started.
Joaquin really has shit timing. He stormed into my office like a bat out of hell, grabbed a clean suit from the closet and disappeared into the bathroom. If only he had waited five more minutes, I’d have gotten us all off.
A grand time would’ve been had by all.
But I suppose he had good reason, seeing as he announced my uncle was downstairs on the main floor of the club. A surprise visit, just what I need.
Grabbing my shirt off the floor, I shove my arms through the sleeves and make my way to the rolling bar. I fill a crystal tumbler with scotch and lift the glass to my lips, taking a hefty gulp. Who needs mouthwash when you got Dewars. I let the amber liquid slosh around my cheeks before spitting it back into the glass. The bathroom door connected to my office opens just as I reach for my sports jacket—heaven forbid my uncle sees me in anything less than a three-piece ensemble.
“You reek of cheap perfume and pussy,” Joaquin sneers as he enters the office.
I roll my eyes. Always so serious this one.
“Sounds like a good time to me,” I retort.
A foreign concept for my pal.
Joaquin wouldn’t know a good time if it bit him in the ass. My right hand takes this club way too seriously. It’s like it’s all he has and maybe that’s true. Being of Puerto Rican descent, Joaquin can never be a made guy. A shame really, considering he is the best damn solider the Pastore Crime Family has. Better than me that’s for sure. He even has the respect of the other crime families—something I’ll likely never have.
Turning my attention back to Joaquin, I smooth a hand over my shirt. I should probably press him to tell me what the fuck happened that required a clean-up crew and the change of clothes, but to be frank—I really don’t give a fuck.
I guess that’s what happens when you’ve reached the end of your rope.
When you’re coasting through life on borrowed time with no real future.
No dreams.
No family.
No woman.
Nothing.
“Let’s get this shit over with,” I mutter.
As soon as I start for the door, my phone starts to ring causing me to pause. I pat my pockets and pull out the offensive device, my eyes instantly narrow at the sight of the name on the screen. Two fucking months later and the sight of her name gets my blood boiling. I lift my head and notice Joaquin’s eyes are aimed at my screen.
Playing it off, I turn my screen to him.
“Why is Vi calling me?”
A man of my word, I never told Joaquin about my night with his sister, a decision I’m still struggling with months later. I was fucked up that night—no surprise there—and I made a promise to Violet when my loyalty should’ve been with the man who made it his life mission to keep me grounded. The shitty thing is, I’d probably do it again. All of it… right down to the part where I made her promise to call me if she couldn’t get in touch with her brother.
Shit.
What if that’s the reason she’s calling?
Closing the distance between us, Joaquin snatches the phone from my hand and sends his sister’s call to voicemail.
“She’s only calling you because I declined her call,” he seethes, handing me back the phone. Drawing my eyebrows together, I stare at him for a beat, trying to mask my anger. See, if he knew his mother took a loan from a sleezy motherfucker like Mitch and his little sister was taking her clothes off to pay that debt, he might be inclined to answer the fucking phone when she calls him.
“Why?” I press.
His eyes narrow into tiny slits and he clenches his tattooed fists.
“What do you mean why?” he growls, losing his patience with me. “Did you not hear anything I fucking said since I entered this room? I don’t have time to entertain Violet right now and she’s only calling me to give her flight information.”
The color drains from my face at his revelation and my chest tightens. I force myself to focus on him and not the memories that taunt me every night since I dropped her on her mother’s stoop.
“Her flight information,” I repeat, forcing a swallow.
“God, you are such a fucking mess,” he hisses, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I told you, my mother is sending her and a few of her friends here for the weekend to celebrate her birthday.”
My eyes widen. There’s no fucking way he told me that. Had I known Violet was planning a visit, I would’ve moved heaven and earth to make sure it didn’t happen. And what’s this shit about Flora sending her—the woman doesn’t have a pot to piss in.
Those memories I’ve been trying to push out of my head surface and a vision of Violet dancing around a stripper pole with her bare tits on display flashes before my eyes.
Christ.
She can’t fucking come here.
I barely survived that night. I had to sleep in the fucking chair because I didn’t trust myself and when we parted the next morning, I felt like I was leaving things unfinished between us. And by unfinished, I mean I was kicking myself because I’d never know how it feels to bury myself deep inside of her.
A knock sounds on the door, pulling me away from my thoughts. Before I can ask who it is, the door opens and my uncle struts into my office like the fucking powerhouse he is. Dressed in a custom-tailored suit, with his gray hair perfectly styled, he’s earned the title of the Dapper Don.