Mafia Casanova

Naz laughed, “You’re funny, Uncle Romeo. Just drive fast, and they won’t trap you, duh!”

“Duh,” I repeated. “How had I not thought of that? You’re so smart.”

“I know.” His sigh said it was a burden to be that smart, and I nearly laughed again but wasn’t sure his fragile ego could handle it.

“Be good.” I cleared my throat awkwardly. Hell, I was seconds away from patting him on the head. Was I really that bad with kids? My own nephew even? “And um, make…good life choices.”

Son of a bitch, shoot me now.

Naz opened the car door then called over his shoulder. “You make good life choices too,” And then, as he hopped out of the car, he yelled, “Have fun cleaning the money!”

I winced as several horrified parents glanced in my direction.

“Yup.” I winked. “Love you, little man.”

“You too, Uncle Romeo!”

He skipped past a few women who were currently huddled in a circle sipping Starbucks. Whispers were exchanged amongst them, and then one turned toward me and started power walking.

“Oh, fuck no.” I waited until Naz was inside the school, quickly pulling out of the drop-off line and hitting the accelerator to get the hell out of there.

It was a quick drive to the club.

Debase had been and always would be one of the clubs that stole pieces of your soul each time you visited. The original club was in Chicago, and this one had just opened a few months ago.

Owned by Andrei Sinacore, it was a front to help rescue as many women from trafficking as physically possible, but Andrei had to look like a monster in order to do so. He couldn’t save everyone, which meant he had to at least keep a few of the women to serve a purpose.

None of them were tortured, but they were numbered instead of named. Stripping them of their identity. They lived out their days in luxury, but did it matter? When you weren’t actually living but using your body in order to survive? Kept as though they were no more than chattel? He looked the other way, we all did, because we justified the fact that he saved at least ninety percent of them.

The ten percent he couldn’t save haunted him, it haunted me, and I hated the reminder as I pulled into the parking lot. I was the underboss, so I was just as tainted with the blood as he was. At night I swear I could sometimes hear their screams, their pleas for help.

And every time, I looked the other way.

Another reason I had never deserved Eden.

When a woman asked for help—you answered the call; you didn’t pretend you couldn’t hear her. But that’s what was asked of me, to pretend.

I pretended with the women.

And I even pretended with Eden.

Fuck.

I was damned to Hell.

Already in a shit mood, I got out of my car and made my way past security and into the club.

It was still early, but that didn’t matter, not in a place like this. A few men in suits were scattered around the VIP section, drinking, watching while scantily clad women danced around them, clinging to poles, thrusting their tits out in an effort to get a bigger tip.

With a sigh, I looked away and went straight to the heart of the club, where I knew Andrei would be waiting. Swear that man had the uncanny ability to guess when I was going to visit; he always had a glass of whiskey ready for me as if he’d been lying in wait. If he wasn’t so young and semi-likable, he’d be a threat.

Then again, he’d always been a threat to the Five Families. He had the ear of the Russians since he was half, and he controlled one of the oldest Italian families in the world—mafia royalty.

The rest of us would always be less than, regardless of our bloodlines, regardless of the kills I had under my belt. My cousin would always hold the world in his hands, and he would always suspect that I wanted the same thing, which meant playing nice, so he didn’t think I was going to slit his throat one day and steal his throne.

The only positive was that he knew I didn’t want that power; I was better in the dungeon killing his enemies, getting my hands dirty to not think about the fact that I’d lost my heart, my fucking soul long ago to a woman who still had trouble looking at me.

I nodded at Ax, Andrei’s personal guard. “He in?”

Ax smirked. “When is he not in?”

“He said something about—”

“Not here.” Ax jerked open the door to the personal office of the Sinacore boss. It clicked shut behind me, sealing us away from the world.

The office was massive, with a black leather couch to the right. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases surrounded the room, and a wet bar stood near the mahogany desk Andrei sat at.