I take surface streets and cut red lights where there are no cameras. In the greater Calabasas area, Sgt. Green keeps Il Lince’s crew informed, and though I don’t work for my father anymore, I reap the benefits.
My headquarters could be anywhere. Shit gets boring, though, so I stay entertained by turning around businesses. At the moment, I’m on my way to Lucid Entertainment, my HQ as of the last six months. It’ll be a thrill to shoot the place to new heights, surpassing all competition. Once that happens, once I’m number one, I’ll cash out and move on to the next thing.
“Freak on a Leash” on the speakers fades at the onslaught of a call.
“Yep.”
“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Nascimbeni, but Mr. Alexie thought you’d want to know that the new talent has arrived.”
“What talent?”
“It’s... a couple of girls.” Mark, a new Lucid guard, clears his throat uncomfortably, and for a second, unease breezes in. I’ll be double-checking his background. Hopefully, he just hasn’t been at the compound long enough to be cool with everyday business.
“Why isn’t Mr. Alexie calling me himself?”
“Oh.”
I sigh as static takes over my surround sound. Seven speakers throw back his discomfort in the insulation of my Bentley Flying Spur. “Mark. Hello?”
“Mr. Nascimbeni! Sir. It’s me, William Christopher Paul.”
That name’s so pretentious his mother probably still needs a good fucking. “What’s up.”
“Mr. Nascimbeni, I’m at the front gate with Mark Jones—this is his phone, and you just talked to him, I believe...”
“I’m aware, Bill.”
There’s a short silence before he continues. “Yes, Mr. Gianni Alexie asked us to alert you to the talents’ arrival, because he’s busy with Belen. She’s.... He said that she’s... Well, she’s preparing for her shoot and being a bit...”
“Combative?” I smirk, imagining the handful she must be without me in the house.
“Yes, sir. She doesn’t like one of the talents, and she just— Not sure, sir,” he adds, giving up.
“Thanks. I’ll be there in five. Don’t let me wait at the gates.”
“Down with the Sickness” roars from my stereo halfway up Hillside, passing the mansions of some of my stars. In the near future, more of them will own homes here, and the world will talk about them.
Another call buzzes through the music. “Ciao,” I say.
“It’s me, Rocco. Your cousin has been trying to get a hold of you.”
“Is she all right?”
“Yes, but your father needs you.”
“You’re kidding. He’s using Gabriela to get a hold of me now?”
“I don’t know the specifics, sir. Just that he needs you at the St. Tatiana. There’s shit going down there with the priest, and—”
“Altermatt?”
“Yeah, I believe that’s his name.”
I rap the dashboard with my knuckles. “I need specifics. I’m not interrupting my day because my cousin’s PA calls me with random intel. If Il Lince wants my help, he’ll have to call me directly, and he’ll need to do it within the hour. I’ve got business to tend to. Tell him.”
“But you pay me for Gabriela, not Il Lince,” he whines.
“Do it.”
“Please, Isaias. Don’t do this to me. I like being alive.”
“Shut up. You’re famiglia.”
I slam my phone into the dashboard and toss it to the passenger seat, annoyed with Rocco, annoyed with my father. Unless you’re famiglia, my father’s the devil. As the uncrowned capo of capi in the U.S., he relocated us from New York to California a decade ago, instantly making a name for himself.
My phone buzzes again.
“Isa baby,” my mother breathes through the speakers.
“Ma. Come stai?” My heart always swells from the sweet pitch of her voice.
“I’m fine. My boy, how about you? Are you okay?”
I think of her small, fragile frame and my own hulk-like bulk next to her, a foot and a half taller. The feel of her in my arms, the way she whispers how she loves me.
“Yeah, I’m good. Dad?”
The press’ll tell you my father is cruel and emotionally stumped. I’m not going to make shit up and say they’re entirely wrong. But when it comes to us, his love is boundless. I fucking love my family, and that won’t change no matter what happens.
“He’s okay too, baby. He just needs some help with Pater Altermatt. He’s being fickle, and your father needs the church for the Russian trade.”
Here we go again. I growl under my breath. My thing has always been to manage the balance between autonomy and family. Family’s blood. It’s heart. In my case, sadly, it’s also being on people’s mind for the first goddamn dirty job they can think of. Still, from the day I turned eighteen, I haven’t needed Il Lince to make a living. It’s why I more often than not turn down his requests for involvement.
“Plus, there’s Gabriela’s trip to Italy,” Ma changes her tactics. “Some of the funds will go to her.”
I fill my lungs with air and hold it for a moment. “She can’t afford the trip?”
“Oh, she has some money.”
I want Gabriela to travel while she’s in Italy. She needs the freedom to do what she always does when she’s there.
“I’ll take care of her.”
“Baby, we’re a business. This is your father’s job. We need to be able to pay for what la famiglia needs.”
I groan out loud.
“You’ll just be at the St. Tatiana to keep an eye on Pater Altermatt. All your father needs is for you to be backline. He’s not asking for direct involvement, and he’s not sending Gioele.”
She knows I’ll approve of that. My brother is eighteen, and to put it mildly, he’s uncomfortable in the box my father has created for him as a mafia prince. Gioele and I are my father’s only legitimate children. Everyone else is a result of fallouts between my parents and indiscretions by my father.
“The priest will recognize me.”
“Pater Altermatt hasn’t seen you since you were a teenager. You’re bigger, and with that hair, he won’t.”
I pull into the Lucid Entertainment compound, the gates sliding open before I’m close enough to trigger sensors. “When does he need me there?”
“Tonight, sweetie. The trade happens at eleven in the Midnight Madonna chamber.”
I massage the bunch between my brows. “Where’s that?”
“Downstairs in the crypt, across from the Jesus of Easter.” I hear the smile in her voice as she continues. “It was your favorite when you were little.”
“Yeah. So make sure the priest doesn’t backstab us is my task, here?”
“Yes, Johnny and Stefano will handle the exchange. Just keep Pater Altermatt busy and give your father a heads-up if the feds arrive.”
Mark and Bill run toward my Bentley. Bill wins, why he’s a senior at Lucid Entertainment, I assume. The man is dedicated. He flings my door open and bows.
“Sir. Happy to have you back at Lucid. Oh, sorry.”
I nod curtly at his acknowledgment of my phone convo. Then, I point toward the building.
Mr. Alexie? he mouths.
I raise my eyebrows in reply. He bobs his head rapidly. Studio 3, sir. I’m sorry.
He needs to stop apologizing.
“I’ll be there tonight, but I can’t keep doing this.”
“Isa baby, every now and then, your father needs you.”
Frustration rises in me. As much as I want to, I won’t slam the phone into the wall, stomp on it, or kick it to the curb while Ma’s on the other end. “I’m at work. I have to go.”
“Your father will be in touch tonight, okay?”
“Yes, Ma. I love you.”
“Anch’io ti amo.”
I switch my phone off. “Let Gianni know I’m on my way.”
“Yes, sir.”
The front doors to Lucid buzz open, and I stride in. White hallways welcome me. I walk until I hit the dead end where glass panels broadcast the sky and the Valley below. The view is uplifting and usually brings my mood up, but now I need to get down the stairs, three flights, until I’m in the makeup stations of Studio 3. I hear Belen shouting all the way from the top of the stairs.
“You don’t understand! Isaias loves me. He thinks I’m the shit, okay, so don’t even try any of that B.S. on me. She’s a complete newbie. Ha, I don’t care how many prizes she’s won up there in San Francisco. That bitch’s got a whole new level of game on her hands if she thinks she can compete with me, and guess what? If it’s up to me—which it is, because I’m the fucking queen of Lucid—she’s not even trying out for this role!”
For a few seconds, I enjoy the rush of her mindless rage in there. Gianni tries to speak up. Someone else does too, maybe the new talent, what’s-her-name? Then I suppress my smile as I push the door open.
Everything goes still in the room. Gianni freezes, the new talent sinks into a seat, and Belen’s eyes go saucer-big.
“Hey, lover,” she squeaks, quieter than I’ve ever heard her. I feel my nostrils flare with humor. I’m not going to reward her behavior, though. Her tall model-scrawny frame, boobs ready to burst with silicon, swing slowly toward me. Today is a pink-panther day for lipstick, apparently, and it’s shiny with some kind of gloss on top. I hope to god it’s candy flavor.
“Gianni,” I start, nodding to my director. “All good here?”
“Mr. Nascimbeni. Of course. Just a little disagreement about roles.”
“He’s not getting it! Gianni wants the newbie in the—”
“Belen!” I bark. Offended, she presses her lips together and turns toward the window.
“What’s the problem?” I ask my director.
“I want to try Wendy out in the first act. I think she’ll do well with John. Their style is similar, and it’s just missionary, one-on-one, no DP. I wanted to save Belen for the anal at the end of act three, but I guess—”
“You’re making shit up, asshole!”
Three strides, and I’ve got Belen by the arm. For a second, I stop and bob my head to the new girl. “Wendy. It’s nice to meet you. Gianni, I’ll be back.”
“But Isaias!” Belen cries as I haul her with me out the door. God, I love the clatter of nine-inch stilettos when the owner has no control over their direction. “Please. I’m sorry.”
I don’t answer. I just pull her into Studio 2. Two exit signs constitute the only lights in here at the moment, and I mean to keep it that way. I leave us in the eerie red glow. “Undress. Now.”
She gasps and obeys immediately, stare widening with excitement.
I’ve been hard since I heard her yell through the door in makeup. Now, I cross my arms, watching her work; my cock and I are about to find relief. “Stop. Leave your shoes on. The garters too.”
She does, chest heaving with fear and heat. Control, control, control; this is how you get rid of a bad mood.
“You forgot something.” I lift a finger and wave it over her bra. It’s sexy as hell, but I want her nipples on display.
The girl needs an equal to keep her on a tight leash. I can’t even imagine the damage she must have caused in her little town before she moved to the porn capital of the U.S.
She emits an aroused huff while she wiggles out of her bra. Oh, she can wiggle out of anything in ways that leave a guy groaning.
“I swear, I wouldn’t have insisted if it wasn’t for...”
“Shh.” I point to the wall by the sound desk. She scurries to it like a good girl, and I unzip my slacks. “Spread your legs.”
She’s a complete bitch, impossible to deal with for my staff. But she’s a damn good face for the business with her perfectly angelic features and goddamn evil eyes. The combo is fucking star material.
She moans as I push her against the wall. I reposition her with a quick tug and angle her ass out. “Baby,” I hiss, “you think you know how to run my business?” I spit into my hand and run it between her cheeks.
“No, no! But Isaias, I swear to you. Gianni doesn’t understand. He needs to—”
“You. Need to shut up when your superiors make decisions.” I shove inside that tight hole of hers, feeling her quiver around me. It’s where she likes us, the queen of anal. It might be punishment for others, but for her, my size is a thrill.
“God! Oh my god.”
“That’s right. You got me?”
“Yeah...” Her hands claw against the wall as she takes me.
“Yes. ‘Sir,’” I grunt. I push hard, hitting her to the hilt, and even Belen whines at that.
“Yes— Fuck!”
“What is it?” I repeat. “Tell me what you’ll do in the future.”
“Yes. Sir... I’ll listen.”
I don’t want her to get any satisfaction from this. That’s not easy with Belen, though, because this kind of sex is what gets her off, and I’m not going to hold back on my own climax; with Il Lince’s demand hanging over me, I need to release tension.
After seconds’ deliberation, my fingers squeezing her nipples into unrecognizable nubs against the dark glass of the sound booth, I speed up and shoot my load free and clear into her ass.
“Stop,” I command, but I’m too late. Her fingers are already on her pussy, rubbing out a thigh-shaking orgasm I can’t help enjoying the feel of.
Okay, so I failed on one of my missions. That doesn’t happen often. Her punishment didn’t pan out as planned, but at least I feel better myself.
“Mr. Nascimbeni?” One of the producers sticks his head into my office. “The drummer of Clown Irruption is on the line for you.”
I perk up. Clown Irruption is an international headliner I chatted with at an outdoor rock concert in San Francisco a month ago. Their songs have been hovering on the top hundred lists over the last year and a half, and I’ve been wanting a phone meeting since I met them.
Their stage presence is formidable. They’ve got that seductive roll that sucks the audience in and doesn’t let go until the last note dies out. My producer coordinated with their agent, and finally, here we are. “Transfer the call.”
I lean back and stare out the window while I wait. The lawn below is too lush for the dry climate of Southern California. Water is scarce and expensive in the Valley. I make a note of changing it to a desert garden.
“Hello. Troy?”
“Hey. Yes, is this Isaias?”
“Damn straight.” I rock back in my chair and smile. “Good of you to call. How’s the music scene?”
“You know, the shiznits—no complaints. What’s going on?”
“Oh nothing much, nothing much. I had a blast the last time, at the S.F. concert. You got some good songs, there, man. You have a new CD in the making too, right?”
“We do.” His voice is deep and sensual.
“Wonderful. Can’t wait to give it a listen.” I give him room to chuckle and let out a few pleasantries. “We should get together next time you’re in L.A.” They’re scheduled for a concert at the Greek Theatre in a few weeks.
“Sure, man. We’re playing the Greek at the end of the month.”
“Oh, really? I’d be happy to tack on some rock-star treatment for you. Or maybe you’ve got after-show plans already?”
“I don’t think we do, actually. I have family in L.A., though.”
“Cool.” I give a lighthearted exhale. “Lucid’s famous for our all-out parties. I’d give you guys a tour of the studios and we’d hit the roof after.”
“That sounds dangerous,” he murmurs, intrigue in his voice.
“Hey, we can keep it PG. Up to you,” I say. We both laugh at that; as far as my intel suggests, Troy’s flying solo with no woman at his side. It’s why I wanted a chat with him and not the band leader. According to rumors, Troy has a few sordid secrets up his sleeve too. I’ll be digging deeper into that if it turns out to be worth my attention.
By the time we hang up, it’s solidifying. After the Greek, Clown Irruption has a few interviews, but then they can be mine. I’ll get formal invites sent out. If this pans out, they’ll be heading to Lucid after the show, and I’ll be giving them the lap dance of their lives.