I’ve never been religious. No. Even though I was brought up that way, I found myself on a different path. It was my decision. And even though Mama and Papa didn’t agree, they still loved and accepted my choices. I knew I’d hurt them when I walked away from the family rules I refused to live under.
When my mother passed away, all I remember was the ache in my chest. I felt it so deep down that I was breathless in my grief. I spent months in her kitchen, cooking, focusing on anything other than the fact that I’d laid her to rest.
My passion for food stemmed from there, and I knew I had to do something other than wallow in grief. Pushing through that barrier wasn’t easy, to see the light when all I was used to was darkness. Slowly, each day became less painful, and even though nothing can ease the ache in my chest, I have a life now that I’m proud of.
A small smile plays on my lips as I think about the future. Once I have the building in my name, I can renovate it and put my stamp on it. Happiness thrums through my body, tingling with anticipation of seeing another derelict building come to life with laughter and smells of delicious food.
Chapter 2
Rome
When I glance at the clock, I notice it’s almost time to head home - even though I’d prefer sitting at the office than being in that apartment alone. Exhaustion tugs at me, and I know I need to get some rest. Today’s been a long one, and tomorrow will be no different. From a quick look on my calendar, I notice I’m in meetings all fucking day. Don’t get me wrong; I love making money. I love selling property, but I need time off. Or I just need a pretty little cunt to drive into to take the stress away.
Picking up my phone, I hit dial on my best friend’s number. On the fourth ring, I’m about to give up when his voice filters through the line.
“What do you want, Donovan?” My best friend is an asshole at the best of times. I don’t know how he lands the amount of pussy he does.
“Dominic, we need to grab some drinks tonight,” I inform him as I ease back into the leather seat of my office chair. The view from my window is of the city below and the marina not far away. The water glistens as the moonlight streams down from the inky sky. The night always seems to hold promise.
“I’m finishing up at the office now. Where do you want to meet?” His question isn’t where, but who. I know him all too well.
“Let’s go down to that new place where they supposedly serve drinks topless. I could do with something gorgeous to look at.” Dom offers a chuckle in response, but he agrees. Once we hang up, I rise and grab the keys to my Maserati. The beautiful car that’s been my most prized possession since I hit my first billion. When I walked into the dealership, she sat waiting for me like a beacon, and I knew I had to have her. Much like women, cars are my vice.
I can walk into any room, and when my eyes land on a stunner, I have to have her, and I’ll stop at nothing to make sure she’s screaming my name by the end of the night. Heading out into the parking garage, I press the key fob and open the driver’s door. Slipping into the leather seat, I push the start button, and I’m heading out onto the road in seconds.
The purr of the engine puts me at ease, and I turn up the music. Blaring riffs scream at me from the speakers, which lifts the tension in my shoulders. The streets are reasonably quiet this evening as I make my way to the east side of town where the club is located.
I overheard from one of my clients their waitresses are topless, sexy, and up for anything. My phone buzzes as I pull up to the parking lot, and with a quick glance, I notice it’s Dominic. Once I’m parked in a spot close to the door, I see my best friend exiting his cherry-red Porsche. The asshole loves to show off, and this is no different.
We’ve been friends for most of our lives, me from the wrong side of the tracks, and him from the affluent family that owns hotels around the world. When I get out of my car, he notices me and smirks.
“Donovan.” He saunters confidently over to me, his golden eyes pinning me with a stare. “I need a drink tonight, and besides that, I have news.” He slaps me on the shoulder, squeezing a greeting as we make our way toward the bar.
“Does it have anything to do with that blonde you were with the other day?” I ask, remembering the beauty that was hanging off his arm. Her fake tits put me off, but there was something about her lips that had me envious of my best friend. He did offer a threesome, but I felt it was time for me to leave when her friends appeared. A group of gaggling drunk women is not my idea of fun. I may like them intoxicated, but they need to have their wits about them. Sensual, hot, and feisty.
The music slams into me as we walk through the double doors of the bar. It’s not loud, but the song is jazzy. Something I can picture a beautiful body sliding around a pole to.
I need to get laid.
The place is elegant, sexy, and I’m sure there’s a lot more that goes on in here than drinks being served. When we reach the bar, I notice the man sitting in the corner, his gaze roaming over the area, and I recognize him immediately. The well-known criminal mastermind, Alessio Russo.
“Gentleman,” he offers a greeting. His Italian heritage evident in the tanned skin, hazel eyes, and accent. “I trust you’ll enjoy your visit. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you,” I respond.
“What can I get you to drink?” A beautiful, busty brunette sidles up to us. She is indeed topless, and I can’t help staring at her beautiful tits.
“I’ll have three fingers of Macallan, twelve-year-old,” I tell her, meeting green eyes that dart between my best friend and me. She nods and peeks over at Dom, who orders his signature bourbon.
As soon as our waitress disappears, another stunning brunette strolls up – no — stalks up to us clad in a sheer, red dress that hangs to her ankles. Underneath, she’s wearing a pair of panties that could be ripped off with my teeth. Her bra is just as tiny, barely covering her incredible tits.
“Gentlemen.” She purrs the word like a kitten, and I picture her on her knees, lapping at my cock. “Would you like a personal tour of the club?” She runs a blood-red fingernail over the shoulder of my suit jacket. If she’s intent on taunting me, it’s working. My zipper is starting to feel very restrictive as she leans in closer. “I have a very special show for you both as new clients.”
“Lead the way, sweetheart,” I tell her. Dom and I follow her through the club. She signals our waitress, who nods.
Moving through the room, I take in the groups of men sitting around tables where girls are swaying, gyrating, and smiling down at the old fuckers who are flicking hundred-dollar bills at them.
We’re led into a circular room that has a pole in the center and plush merlot-colored sofas. There are see-through curtains hanging from the walls where red light shines through, creating warmth in the room.
The brunette turns to us and smiles. “Get comfortable, gentlemen,” she tells us while the waitress sets our drinks on the small side tables on either end of the sofas. I settle into the cushions, lifting the tumbler to my lips.
This club is owned by one of the well-known leaders of the Mafia. And being in here only sets me on edge. My past is littered with darkness—things I’ve done were questionable. Since I’ve been in America, I’ve tried to keep my nose clean. Still, being in Portland, I’ve met many wings of the Italian American Mafia.