Stephan

Leaning against the brick wall, on the other side of the Italian bakery, I waited for my brother to finish making the collections. Isabella was home from college after disappearing from Long Island for close to five years. She was across the street from me, out front of the nail salon, with her long, black hair over one shoulder, blowing on her hands to dry the polish. Her lips were full, colored the same shade of red as her nails.

I tilted my head to the side to take in the length of her body, recalling each of her curves from memory. She scanned her surroundings as if she was waiting for someone, and then our eyes met. I burned a hole through her with my intense gaze, unable to look away, even though I’d been caught staring. She stared at me with equal intensity.

Isabella was beautiful, different from the women in my life who were so eager to please. But we never had the chance to become anything more, all because I made one mistake that set a chain of events into motion. We both knew the rules—stay away from each other. I didn’t want Senator Parisi to steal Isabella from me again. So, I admired her from a distance, same as I’d done for years.

When my dad said the name Robert Parisi, it was as if the name burned his tongue. They exchanged the usual pleasantries to keep our family out of jail. My dad even contributed to her father’s re-election campaign. But my father’s message was loud and clear over the years. Knowing I couldn’t have Isabella only made me want her more. It was like when my mother told me I couldn’t eat bread before dinner, so I would sneak into the kitchen and steal a slice from the loaf just because I wasn’t allowed to do it.

Nino walked up to me and stuffed the money he’d collected in my hand, diverting my attention. “That’s our last one,” he told me. “All set.”

I shoved the thick stack of envelopes into my pocket and glanced over my shoulder. We could never be too careful. “Did anyone give you trouble?”

He shook his head, his dark hair falling in front of the same deep blue eyes as mine. “Piece of cake. Everyone knows the drill. The second I walked through the door, they were handing over envelopes full of cash. It’s almost too easy anymore.”

I nodded. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

“You think Dad will let me get in on the action this weekend?”

I glanced at Nino, confused. “The card game? That’s for high rollers.”

“He put you in charge of the game. You get to make the rules.”

“It’s not that simple. There’s a structure to Dad’s game. You can’t just throw down fifty grand and get a seat at the table.”

“I’m good for it.”

I laughed. “Be serious. You don’t have that kind of cash. Not unless you stole it from Dad.”

“Says you,” he shot back. “What do you know, Stephan?”

“I know you couldn’t come up with the money by Saturday night, not unless you plan to knock off a bank before then.”

“I’ve been saving up.”

“Leave it, okay? Don’t waste your money. You couldn’t handle some of these whales. They have more money than they know what to do with, and they don’t mind spending it. You would miss that kind of money. These degenerates could care less.”

New York’s wealthiest men drove to Long Island once a month for the card game my father had run since I was in diapers. An invite from him meant you were protected, part of the inner circle. We didn’t let anyone with money into our lives. The men were handpicked, vetted before they could get anywhere near us. Senators, big shot lawyers, Wall Street bankers, moguls, and even celebrities were some of the players at our games.

“Just give me a chance,” he protested. “I can hang with these guys.”

“No, not gonna happen. We already have enough people at the table.”

“But…” his voice trailed off when I held out my hand to silence him.

“No buts. You can come and watch, but you’re not getting in on the action.”

He blew out a puff of air, annoyed with me. I didn’t give a shit if he was pissed with me or not. My decision was final. My brother had a gambling problem, and I did my best to keep him from getting himself in too deep with the wrong people. The DeLuca name could only get him so far. Our father could only call in so many favors before Nino had to get his act together.

“I’ll go to Damon then. He won’t stop me from playing a few hands at his tables.”

I narrowed my eyes at Nino. “Don’t even think about going to Atlantic City. Damon will have you thrown out of his casino faster than you can cash out your chips.”

Our cousin, Damon DeLuca, owned the Portofino Casino and Hotel in Atlantic City. He also owned half the strip clubs and restaurants in and around the town. Like my father, Damon had amassed an empire that was untouchable. We had every cop and politician from Long Island to Atlantic City on our payroll. With Damon moving so much legitimate money through his casino, it was easier for us to launder some of our illegal funds through his business.

Damon also held an online auction he had set up to move anything from women to diamonds. But our specialty was choosing high-end women who wanted sugar daddies with certain needs. We made a lot of money for our family with our imports and exports. While my father handled the day-to-day operation of our routine business dealings, my brothers and I dealt with the more unsavory side of our business.

He shook his head, irritated. “Just because we shared the same womb doesn’t mean you get to order me around. Damon wouldn’t turn me away, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

I gritted my teeth in anger. “I’m doing you a favor. Stop pushing it.”

We walked down the alley in silence, and my stomach growled when I smelled the fresh bread baking at Vincenzo’s.

“C’mon.” I tapped Nino on the arm. “Let’s get something to eat before we head home.”

He followed me into the bakery, and we ordered a cannoli each. As per the usual, the woman behind the counter refused to accept my money out of respect for my family.

On our way back to the car, I heard a loud crack, followed by a few grunts. The unmistakable sound of a woman yelling stopped me dead in my tracks. I stepped back from the fence, scanned the long alleyway, and spotted a girl swinging at a man around my height and build.

I blinked twice to make sure I wasn’t imagining the scene in front of me. The girl swung her arm and slapped the man in the face. He grabbed her by her shoulders and lifted her up from the ground.

I’d had enough. For whatever reason, I couldn’t avoid trouble. It called to me, drew me in every time.

I chewed the rest of my cannoli and walked over to them with Nino at my side. Gripping the back of the man’s shirt, I pulled him off the girl, surprised to see it was Isabella Parisi. After I kneed him in the back of his leg, I knocked him to the ground and then kicked him in the face. Nino took his turn, all too eager to get a few punches in before I told him to stop. I wanted to teach him a lesson, not rearrange his face.

Less than an hour ago, Isabella was getting her nails done, and now she was hanging out with this loser. I shook my head, irritated to see it was Chris Rizzoli, a man who worked for my father. From the looks of Chris’ face, Isabella got a few good hits on him, too.

She was feisty, unlike the soft girl I once knew. Now, she was the kind of woman who needed to be tamed. Apparently, Chris had the same idea as me. But she was mine. No one was allowed near her. I threatened anyone who as much as glanced in her direction—my own family included.

It didn’t matter she was off-limits. If I couldn’t have her, then no one could. I was a selfish, vindictive asshole and everyone knew it.

I looked down at Chris and spit, my salvia landing next to his head. “Touch her again, and I’ll kill you.” I moved my hand to the gun at my waist, pushing my suit jacket back for him to see it wasn’t an empty threat.

I would have gladly placed a bullet between his eyes if it meant keeping him away from Isabella.

Chris spat blood at me, the loogie landing on my wingtip. “Fuck you, DeLuca. You’re not the fucking boss.”

But I will be someday.

“Fuck me?” I smirked at him, about to teach him another lesson for his disrespect. “Let’s see who’s fucked when it comes time to getting paid.” Then, I kicked him again in the face, wiping his spit on my shoe off on his skin.

I looked at Nino and shook my head. “Can you believe this prick?”

What a stupid motherfucker.

An evil smirk tugged at the corner of Nino’s mouth. Then, he refocused his gaze on Chris, his leg already mid-air, raised to kick him again in the face. Following Nino’s lead, my foot collided with Chris’ stomach, drawing a loud groan from him. He covered his face with one hand and his balls with the other. We kept kicking until he was gasping for air.

Chris rolled onto his side and sobbed with his hand over his face. Nino and I were both sick fucks, a crazed tag-team that couldn’t control ourselves once we started. Not until Isabella screamed for us to stop did I realize we’d gone too far. Chris’ face was a bloody mess, but he was still breathing.

“This isn’t over, DeLuca,” he cursed at us under his breath and ran while he still could walk.

Nino bent over and laughed. “That was fun.”

I nodded.

Violence was in our blood. Adrenaline shot through my system, further intensifying my high. My entire body came to life when I was doing bad shit, every nerve ending set on fire at the same time. At one time, Isabella had given me the same rush.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Isabella said from behind me. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to protect me.”

I turned to face her and closed the distance between us when I saw the red handprint on her right cheek. “I’m sure you can, princess. But what kind of man would I be if I walked away?”

“A smart one,” she countered with the hint of a smile on her lips. “I got a few good hits on him. I didn’t need you to come to my rescue.”

I cupped the side of her face in my hand and inspected the bruise on her cheek, my jaw clenched in anger from what Chris had done to her. “I’m sure you can handle yourself just fine.”

She was so angry about my intervention I didn’t understand it. This woman was more than capable of standing up for herself, but she couldn’t take on a man my size.

“I’m not some damsel in distress who needs a man to save her.”

I laughed. “I’m not the hero in your story, princess.”

She smiled. “No, then what are you?”

The corners of my mouth turned up into an evil grin. “The villain.”

Too bad the villain never got the girl.