Protecting Her: A Romance Bundle

My father, Gianni, had been killed. Ten months ago, to the exact date, he’d been in a car driving to Jersey for a business meeting with the restaurant partners. He’d been killed instantly when a tractor-trailer crossed the highway median and hit his car, head on.

I’d been devastated. At thirty-seven, I’d thought that I had years and years before taking over as the head of the Amoruso family business. But instead, I’d been catapulted into the spotlight and I was still recovering. I missed my father, but to tell the truth, I hadn’t had very much time to grieve. Death stops for everyone, and business can’t stop for death. While some people said it was shameful the way I’d moved on, the truth was that I couldn’t have stopped. If I’d even slowed down, the business would have tanked.

And god knows, I couldn’t have that.

I sighed, stretching as I reached forward for a piece of muffin. It had already cooled, but I didn’t mind. There was something satisfying and savory about the taste of salted butter on top of the crunchy surface. I closed my eyes and chewed for a long time, thinking of everything I’d have to wrap u

p later in the day. First, I had a meeting with my best friend, Silvio – my advice man. Then, I was going to drive out to Jersey and check out two of the restaurants.

I smirked. There was a girl working at one of them – Cara, or Carina, or whatever the fuck she called herself – who was damn cute, and she’d been making cow eyes at me ever since we first saw each other. I’d been too distracted to try getting her alone, but today, I had a feeling that I wouldn’t be content until I left with her spit still clinging to my dick. I hadn’t had sex in weeks, and I was achingly horny. Most of the time, I called in girls to my home whenever I needed…release. But lately, I’d been so busy that I’d resorted to porn, stroking myself to the sight of three naked blondes licking each other’s pussies and moaning theatrically. It wasn’t as good as the real thing, but it had been a decent substitute.

Taking a long drink of juice, I unfolded the rest of the paper and skimmed the article. I wasn’t worried about any negative press – the local paper was on our side, and I knew they wouldn’t print anything sordid or inflammatory unless we were in on it.

The truth was, I wasn’t just a local business owner. Amoruso’s had done better than anyone in my family had ever expected – including my father. But while we slung pasta and “Italian” dishes at sloppy families, that wasn’t the only goal. The original restaurant had started as a place to launder money. We’d been a cheap takeout (cash only, of course) and my father Gianni hadn’t expected the venture to last more than six months. But to everyone’s shock, Amoruso’s chicken parmesan was such a crowd pleaser that in less than two years, my father and Silvio opened two more restaurants. The year after that, we opened four. Now, we had ten restaurants in New York and New Jersey combined, and we pulled in a solid sixteen million per quarter.

Of course, all of that money didn’t come from chicken parmesan. But no one had to know that – even if some suspected. New York was full of crime family activity, and it was my job to make sure the Amoruso family did our part and kept our heads down. Most of our revenue came from dealing with shipping firms under the table. But there was a big problem right now, and it was starting to give me a headache.

I hadn’t thought that I’d be tested this much in my first year of running the family business. Things hadn’t ever been easy. All ten restaurants had done poorly over the winter, because of snowstorms that kept people inside, and I was dealing with a real pig over at Magnate Shipping. Magnate had been our partner for years. The owner, Douglas, and my father Gianni had even been friends. But now, the owner’s son Michael was making a real big stink and I was going to have to think of something radical if I wanted to stay on top.

I stood up and walked across the plush carpeting of my office. A small mirror by the door showed that my dark hair was beginning to grey at the temples. I frowned – I knew some women liked the idea of a silver fox, but I wasn’t even forty years old yet. I made a mental note to visit a hair stylist and have her do something before I went out to Jersey. If I wanted to get inside little Carina’s panties, I was going to put my best foot forward.

My phone buzzed on my desk and I picked it up without glancing at the caller.

“Hello?”

“Hey, boss,” Silvio said. “How’s it going?”

I nodded stiffly, forgetting for a moment that Silvio wasn’t in the room to watch.

“I’ve had better mornings,” I said honestly. “We need to figure out a way to deal with that prick over at Magnate. The most recent shipment has been held up for days, and unless I act soon, it’s staying like that for some time. We’re bleeding money, Sil.”

“I know, I know,” Silvio said. “Look, I’m on my way over. I have some news.”

The last word struck my chest with fear. “What news?”

Silvio sighed. “I’ll be honest, boss,” he said slowly. “It ain’t good.”

I steadied myself with a hand against the back of my desk chair.

“Hurry up,” I barked into the phone. “I ain’t waiting around all morning just to hear some bad shit, Silvio.”

“Of course,” Silvio said. “I’ll be there in five.” He hung up without saying anything else. Normally, Silvio’s brusque demeanor would have irked me. But today, all I could think about was how to get out of this mess. Ever since Douglas’s son had started working at Magnate, I’d had shit like this to deal with during almost every delivery. The Amoruso family smuggled cocaine, heroin, and ecstasy with the help of Magnate shipping…and I needed to make sure I was getting the money that I deserved.

True to his word, Silvio showed up no more than five minutes later. I heard his heavy footsteps thundering through my home before his tentative, soft knock on the door.

“Sil, come in,” I called loudly, sitting down in my chair and grabbing a pen and paper. Over the past year of leading the Amoruso family, I’d learned to conceal my nervous ticks pretty well. I still didn’t feel like the head of a crime ring, but I was learning. My father would be ashamed, I thought as I glanced down at my right hand. It was shaking.

Silvio pushed the heavy office door and strode in, hands clasped in front of his wide belly. He was wearing a grey flannel suit with the first two buttons of his shirt unfastened. A tuft of silvery-grey hair stuck out, against the stark tan skin of his chest.

Silvio leaned down in a respectful bow. He was my father’s age – early sixties –and because of a lifetime of drinking and partying, he looked it. He looked like he’d aged ten years overnight – especially around his eyes.

“Boss, I’m sorry to tell you,” Silvio said heavily. “But we lost two men last night.”

“What the fuck?” I narrowed my eyes. “What the fuck happened?”

Silvio sighed. “I know,” he said. “We had men go over to Magnate, try to soften Douglas up. But Douglas stood firm – said you owe him somewhere in the neighborhood of a cool three million.”

Blood inflamed my face and I glared angrily. “That’s fucking horseshit,” I muttered. “You know I don’t know that old man shit!”