Dom
“So tell me what you know about her.” I question Tony as soon as I get him alone. De Luca’s fucked. He’s been fucked. We gotta keep our heads low. Yada yada. Same shit as last week. Motherfucker came for me; I took care of it. Pops is proud, and he’s sending a message. Beyond that, I don’t want a damn thing to do with this shit.
Back to making bets and hunting down my doll. Just thinking about her owing me makes my dick grow rigid. I shift my weight to cover it up, waiting for Tony to get all the info on the iPad. He takes that thing everywhere. I don’t really like the idea, even if it is password protected and encrypted. I told Pops, I told everyone. Apparently this technology is fine, and it doesn’t have everything on it. Still, I don’t like having a device with any information on it pertaining to the business.
I have to admit though, when he hands it over to me and my doll’s picture looks back at me, suddenly I don’t really give a fuck about the iPad. I read the description and go through the photos.
Rebecca Lynn Harrison. Maiden name: Bartley.
Thirty-one years old. Birthday: January 2nd 1985.
Widow to Richard Francis Harrison. Married: December 14th 2011.
Died of heart attack at thirty-four years old. Birthday: May 12th 1982.
Mother to Jax Liam Harrison.
Three years old. Birthday: April 5th 2013.
My jaw tics as I read that part about a son. Kids complicate shit. I can’t just keep her to myself whenever I want and expect her to submit without any question.
Owner of Marcello’s Italian Bistro.
127 Pattinsons Plaza. Value: Two million.
Owner of two-story family home in Harmony Place.
42 Hills Lane. Value: 600,000.
Recent Legal Action
Divorce and distribution of assets – dismissed
Questions regarding custody – also dismissed
“What the fuck is this about?” Anger rises in my chest. Is she not a good mother? I won’t fuck with someone who doesn’t take care of their own. That’s not the kind of woman I want.
“Her husband was a piece of shit. I’ve got his info on there, too.” He motions to the iPad, and I suck in a deep breath.
I scroll past a few pictures of my doll in front of her restaurant. Marcello’s Italian Bistro. I’ll have to see about that. I doubt her meatballs are as good as Ma’s. I smirk, taking in the façade of the restaurant. I’ve never been there; never even heard of it. We have our own upscale bistro. But the people who come to us are looking for an experience, not necessarily our food. It’s not like Pops isn’t known as the head of the mafia. The cops have been on him throughout the years, but they’ve never been able to get anything to stick. The papers crucify him any time there’s bloodshed in the streets. Most of the time it’s got nothing to do with us though. Sometimes it’s deserved, but it’s a rare day the papers get their information right.
So when people come into our bistro, they’re hoping to see some shit from the Sopranos or something. The thought makes me chuckle. I stare at the picture of her restaurant. Of Rebecca’s restaurant. I like that name. Rebecca. It feels good on my tongue. It looks like a nice place. I bet it’s decent inside. But Italian? Real Italian? Nah, I doubt it. I smirk and keep scrolling. I’ll have to go in and find out for myself.
I stop on a picture of her holding a little boy in her arms. He must be her son. I look past the kitchen doorway to the den and take a peek at Gino.
“What’s Gino now? Is he three?” I ask him as I lean against the granite countertops.
He shrugs as he says, “No clue, Dom.”
“Ma!” I yell through the kitchen to the dining room where her and Jessica are having a cup of tea. I know I’m interrupting them, but Ma won’t mind.
She walks to the doorway with her hands on her hips and her lips pursed. “Why do you have to yell, Dom? Huh? You can’t just walk into the room like a normal person?”
“Sorry Ma, just wanted to know how old Gino is.”
“He’ll be three in June.” She narrows her eyes at me and says, “Why are you asking?”
I shrug as I reply, “No reason.” I don’t lie to my Ma, not ever. But of course the one time I do, she sees right through me. I guess I don’t lie 'cause I’m a shitty liar. Her eyes focus on the iPad in my hands. “Not now, Ma,” I warn her. Her lips part and she takes a step back, giving me a look of disappointment.
“I wanna see, Dominic.” She puts one hand on her hip, and the other is palm up, extended in front of her. Fuck me.
“Ma. It’s just a girl; she doesn’t even know me.” Well, she kind of knows me, in the biblical sense, but Ma doesn’t need to hear that.
“There’s a lot of broads out there, Dom,” Pops says as he comes up from behind me and takes the iPad out of my hand. He’s the only one in here I’d let get away with that shit. He chuckles. “You always go for the challenge, don’t you? You can’t be happy with a nice single twenty-something. You wanna go for a chick with baggage.”
“Dante! A child is not baggage!” Ma looks pissed. I raise my eyebrows and stare past my ma to the dining room. My parents don’t fight. Never. Can’t tell you one time they ever got into an argument. But Ma sure as shit likes to beat up on Pops. She doesn’t let him get away with a damn thing.
“Oh hush, I’m only saying having a kid creates extra work.” He hands the iPad back to me and adds, “If he’s not looking for anything but a good time, there’s no reason to go after a broad who has to worry about a little one.” I nod my head, hearing what my pops is saying, but I don’t fucking like it.
“What you need to do is knock it off with all the girls and find a good woman to settle down with.”
“All the girls?” I scrunch my face up in distaste. “What girls?” It’s not like I bounce from girl to girl. I’m not some fucking manwhore. Not that I really see a problem either way. By that I mean I’m not into slut-shaming. You do what you want, how you want. Vince has a fleet of women coming and going. They know what they’re signing up for, and I don’t give him a hard time over it. I just prefer something different. I like to build some trust. A one-night stand is nothing that can give me the high I need. It’s a quick release, and that’s just not my thing. I like gaining trust and pushing limits. I enjoy finding out a woman’s deepest, darkest fantasies. Hard to make that come true if they don’t trust you enough to tell you.
I hear Vince laugh from the den. Great, the whole fucking family is in on it now. He walks into the kitchen, moving to lean against the fridge with a huge fucking grin on his face. I cut him off as his mouth opens. “Shut it.” I point my thumb in Ma’s direction. “She gets a pass.” Then at Pops. “He gets a pass.” Then I point at him with my brows raised. “Not you. Fuck off.”
“Dom!” Ma scolds me.
“I know, I know.” I roll my eyes and pass the iPad back to Tony. “Language.” I look at Tony and say, “Email it to me.”
Ma looks at me expectantly. “Ma, really.” I don’t fucking want her involved. This is just pussy. I can’t get this broad out of my head. Partly because I want to apologize, but mostly because I want her cunt wrapped around my dick again. And that ass. Just thinking of it makes my dick come to attention. And that’s my cue to fucking leave. I did my part; I came to Sunday dinner. I told them about that little shit Marco, and De Luca’s bullshit.
I give Ma a hug as she asks, “You’re leaving already?” She sounds hurt, and it would make me feel guilty if she didn’t say it like that every time.
“Gotta go, Ma; I love you.” She gets a kiss on the cheek. Pops gets a quick hug, and the rest get a wave as I walk my ass out the door to my Benz.
Time to go home and really look into this woman. I already know I want her; I’ve just got to figure out how I’m gonna get her to owe me again. The smirk on my face vanishes as I remember I’m gonna have to address how I behaved the first time. My hands twist the leather steering wheel. I’m not so good with apologies, but I’m sure I’ll figure out a way to make it up to her. I groan, thinking up all the ways I’ll make it up to my doll.
I can’t fucking wait to get inside her tight pussy again. I haven’t got anything planned for tomorrow. Well, now I do.