I wore civil when I followed Marcella the first time. Her bodyguards would only get suspicious if a guy on a bike showed up repeatedly. Vitiello had certainly given out the headshots of every known member of our club to his soldiers so they could kill us on sight. Luckily, I’d laid low in the last few years and lost the boyish features and shoulder-length hair of my teenage years. Those wild years that had almost cost me my life and gotten me the nickname Mad. Right after returning to New York, I’d run one attack after the other on Famiglia establishments until a bullet grazed my head and almost ended my life. I’d die once Vitiello got what he deserved, not a day sooner.
Today, I even wore a goddamn long-sleeved turtleneck to cover up my tattoos and scars. I looked like a fucking mother-in-law’s delight. But even looking like that, I made sure to keep my distance. Marcella’s bodyguards were as cautious as could be expected from soldiers who’d have to answer to Luca Vitiello if something happened to his precious offspring. Worse than my choice of clothes was the Toyota Prius that Earl had organized for me to pursue our target. I missed my bike, the vibrations between my thighs, the sound, the wind. Riding in this car, I felt like an idiot. But my camouflage gave me the chance to trail Marcella’s car closely, and when they finally came to a stop in front of a fancy boutique, I parked a few cars away. I got out of my Prius just when one of the bodyguards held open the back door for Marcella. The first thing I saw of her was a long, lean leg in red high heels. Even the goddamn sole was red.
When she straightened, I had to suppress a curse. This girl didn’t need a filter. She wore a red summer dress that accentuated her narrow waist and round butt and made her legs look miles-long, even though she was a petite woman. I forced myself to keep checking the shop displays because I’d frozen in my tracks upon spotting the Vitiello princess. Her gait spoke of unwavering confidence. She never once swayed despite her ridiculously high heels. She walked the streets as if she owned them—her head held high, her expression cold and painfully beautiful. There were girls that were pretty, there were girls that were beautiful, and there were girls that had men and women alike stop in their tracks to admire them slack-jawed. Marcella was the latter.
When she disappeared in the boutique, I shook my head as if I was trying to wake from her spell. I needed to focus. Marcella’s looks were completely irrelevant to our mission. The only thing that mattered was Vitiello’s insane protectiveness. If we had her in our hands, we owned him, and then the bastard would pay.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I peeled out of the fucking turtleneck after returning to the clubhouse that night. Only in boxers, I went down to the bar area and grabbed myself a beer. Mary-Lu came out of Gray’s room when I opened my door. She wore hot pants and a tank without a bra.
Her face lit up when she spotted me. “You look like you need company.”
I took a swig from my beer. I needed a female body to distract me from Marcella Vitiello. “And I suppose you want to be that company?”
She sauntered over to me and raked her nails down my bare chest, tugging at my nipple piercing as she did so. She leaned up as if to kiss me.
“Did you just give Gray a blowy with that mouth?” I asked with a smirk.
She flushed. “He passed out drunk before he—”
“I don’t want to know if my brother shot his load down your throat, Lu,” I muttered then I opened my door wide. “No kissing, but I’m in the mood for a blowy and I promise not to pass out before shooting my cum down that pretty throat of yours.”
She giggled when I clapped her ass and closed the door after us. Lu was one of our pass-around girls but she had every ambition to become an old lady. Not mine, that was for sure, though.
I woke in the middle of the night from a dream—or maybe nightmare, depending on the viewpoint. The last remnants of it still whirled around in my head. Blue eyes peering down at me, red lips parted for a cry of ecstasy and a pussy over my mouth.
My eyes opened wide. Fuck. I could almost taste it. Dreaming of eating out Marcella Vitiello was the fucking last thing I should do. A warm body stirred beside mine, and for a fucking heartbeat I wondered if I’d somehow managed to forget kidnapping Marcella and took her into my bed.