Model for the Mob (Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance) - Page 29

“Soon,” I whispered, grazing my lips along her cheek. “Very fucking soon.”

“Thank you for being so patient,” she said.

“You deserve it,” I told her.

And that’s true. She does deserve it.

But trying to sleep last night – separate from my woman – was an unconquerable task. I ended up in the gym, putting my body through the wringer, waiting for her to wake so we could watch the sun rise together.

Then Aldo called.

“Franco wants to meet,” he said. “The Lioni Lounge, nine AM. Think it’s a trap?”

“It could be,” I told my cousin. “But I’m not running scared from that cowardly piece of shit.”

Now I sit in the passenger side of his car. The traffic is clogged because of some construction work at the intersection, the same work that’s been there for six weeks. Half the time I rarely see workers on the site.

“The mayor needs to sort that shit out,” I growl, my arm out the window and my fingertips drumming the roof of the car. “Almost two months that work’s been going on.”

“He’s too scared,” Aldo says. “Construction is backed by the Irish mob.”

I laugh grimly. “Maybe we’ll help the mayor out once this shit is sorted with Franco. People have got places to be, cousin.”

Aldo smiles across at me as we are stopped at a red light, eyes narrowed behind his thick glasses. “You thinking of running for office, boss?”

“Maybe I should,” I grunt. “I’d do a better job than this asshole.”

“You would,” Aldo agrees. “But it’s a dangerous business, getting involved in politics.”

“I know.” I nod. “It’s better to stay in the shadows. You’ve always been wise beyond your years, Aldo.”

The younger man grins up at me. “I get it from you, eh, boss.”

“Alright, calm down with the flattery.” I chuckle. “I rely on you to give it to me straight, not to get the truth all dolled up like so many advisors do. That’s Franco’s problem, surrounding himself with yes men.”

“Amen to that,” Aldo says, nodding. “And you’re right. This traffic is fucking unacceptable.”

I nod and keep drumming my fingers against the roof, everything inside of me roaring that I shouldn’t be here. I should be with my woman, watching how she looks on the balcony in the morning sunlight, with her dark hair tussled sleepily around her shoulders.

“I’m surprised that coke head Franco is even up this early,” I say, my tone as bitter as my mood.

“Probably hasn’t been to sleep,” Aldo mutters. “You good, boss?”

“What do you mean?” I snap.

He flinches, and I remind myself to rein myself in a little bit. Anger can be used as a weapon, but it sends a man into danger more often than not. And Aldo is a good man, a loyal friend, my cousin, and my consigliere.

“It’s not you. It’s not Franco.” I sigh darkly. “It’s the fact I’m not with Lucy, where I belong. If Franco keeps me away from her for a second longer than he needs to, it’s not going to end well for him.”

“I get that, Luca. But this is about building bridges, remember.”

“He better be ready to grovel then,” I snarl. “He insulted my woman. He humiliated her. He tried to bully her… all in front of me. If he makes the same mistake again, I won’t be held responsible for what I do to him.”

Aldo swallows, nodding.

“Then we better hope he cooperates.”

We pull up outside my club, the lights dim in the daylight. I normally never come here during the daytime. I’ve got managers who handle my businesses well and I only come here at night for meetings, when the streets are packed and the lights are glittering like Vegas.

It seems cold and lifeless in the daylight.

We climb out, Aldo and me from his car and our crew of eight from the adjacent cars. I walk at the head of the group as my men follow behind me, all of them quiet and ready for anything.

We all know how this could go if Franco decides to play us dirty.

We’re ready to do what is necessary.

There’s nothing that could stop me from returning to my queen.

I open the door and walk inside.

Fuck.

The barrel of a rifle is pointed at my head.

I grab it instinctively, years of training kicking in. I push it upwards as somebody drives a knee into my stomach.

The hallway is filled with men with rifles and pistols.

I barge the man with the rifle and swing it around like a baseball bat, catching him under the chin.

He roars and collapses into one of his onrushing men.

My men are fighting all around me, growling and roaring as they wrestle for their guns.

I collapse atop a man and hammer him with my fists, bringing my knuckles down with a devastating impact on his jaw. He’s trying to take my new life away from me.

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