Bastiano Romano: A Standalone Mafia Romance Novel (The Five Syndicates Book 4) by Parker S. Huntington (12)

My eyes drifted to Ariana De Luca, and I hated myself for it.

I had always been unflinching. Resolute. It was ingrained in my DNA, passed on from generation to generation by persistent Romano elders, used to either being handed what they wanted or taking it with unrelenting force.

But what I wanted right now was to look away and gain back the sliver of control I had somehow lost when she’d walked in on me stroking myself to the image of her lips around a forkful of food, pretending it was my cock on her tongue and not the overpriced rosemary-glazed porchetta.

Yet, no matter how hard I’d tried, I couldn’t look away. It was just a sliver of control relinquished. A seemingly innocuous shard. But it was more than anyone else had ever stolen from me in eight years—enough for her presence to distract me and the memory of the wet spot on her panties to haunt my thoughts—and I wanted my control back.

Maybe I was being punished for living my life as a miserable jerk, avoiding my duty to my family as often as I could and treating everyone like they were personally to blame for Elsa’s greed. Maybe this was the universe’s way of punishing me—throwing Ariana De Luca into my life and making it so that I couldn’t look away.

And I couldn’t.

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.

The curve of her neck as she threw her head back and laughed at something Tessie said had my mouth watering. I wanted to sink my teeth in her neck, draw blood, and revel at the sight of the vibrant red dripping down her otherwise untarnished skin. I wanted to steal back the sliver of control she’d taken from me—and then another sliver, just because I could. Her blood would smell like revenge and taste like the filthy things I wanted to do to her. I could almost taste it now.

I was a sick fuck, and I needed to look away before I convinced myself that I could blur the lines with my future employee, never mind the fact the lines had already been blurred when she’d taken unconscious steps closer to me and I came in front of her.

I tore my eyes away from her, promising myself that I wouldn’t entertain my X-rated thoughts about her, let alone in the presence of my family.

Asher pulled a blueprint to the top of the pile. “How about we do it at Valentino’s?”

I leaned back in my chair, counting down from ten as I eyed the ceiling.

Ten.

Must not punch Asher.

Nine.

Must not punch Asher.

Eight.

Must not punch Ash—

Gio, ever the sweetheart, was less tactful in hiding his irritation at Asher. He groaned, pounded a fist on the table, and barked, “Christ, Asher. Valentino’s?”

The little shit was amused. Probably had his signature pretty boy, I’m-smarter-than-you-and-I-know-it smirk on his face, too. “What’s wrong with Valentino’s?” Asher drawled out, taking his sweet-ass time to form the question.

Nothing was wrong with Valentino’s.

What was wrong was that it was Asher’s ninth wedding venue choice of the day, and we had already planned security for the first eight choices. Granted, as soon as Asher suggested La Chiesa di San Valentino, I knew it was the best fit.

The Romano connection to the church dated back hundreds of years to the mid-1800s. When the prohibition era came, my great grandfather had tunnels built all over New York City and into the land past the boroughs.

There were tunnels connecting Valentino’s to just about every Romano safe-hold establishment in the city, which meant the businesses connected to the tunnels served as safe entrances and safe exits.

The only reason I hadn’t suggested it in the first place was because it would be a pain in the ass to fortify all of the entrances. We would have to deploy all of our soldiers to cover the ground and have Black Security, Asher’s security company, cover the church’s interior and exterior. But Asher never did things half-assed for Lucy. He was full-blown whipped and loving it.

Righting myself, I eyed Uncle Vince, who was usually the voice of reason in these situations. Gio and Asher fought. It was what they did. There was never any malice between them. They just liked to exchange words.

Gio fought because he couldn’t understand the concept of someone not being intimidated by him, and Asher fought because he was a smug asshole that liked to fuck with anyone and everyone.

Uncle Vince usually intervened before someone bruised their ego (usually Gio), but when I looked at him, he wasn’t paying attention. His hair frizzed outward, a tad untidy. A thin layer of bags lined his eyes, which was odd for him, but I figured we all were a bit fatigued from this drawn-out meeting. A soft smile ignited his face as he stared in the direction of the bar.

I followed his line of sight—right to Ariana De Luca and Tessie.

They were laughing.

Fucking. Laughing.

Again.

I hadn’t held up this meeting on purpose, but an hour and a half had passed since Ariana had barged into the bar. She wasn’t supposed to be laughing. She was supposed to be pissed, her eyes blazing so red it made my cock twitch. Instead, those luring irises—the color of Caribbean waters—glowed, and she leaned forward in rapt attention as she talked with Tessie.

And Tessie, the little traitor, was looking at Ariana De Luca like she was a backstage pass to a My Little Pony concert, or whatever the fuck kids listened to these days. Knowing Tessie, it was probably NPR.

Tessie and Ariana’s laughter surprised me.

Hell, it blew me away.

Tessie was hardly a social recluse, but outside of the family, she wasn’t exactly a social butterfly either. Down in Rossi territory, Ma kept her in a tight family- and friends-only circle that had yet to be infiltrated. In California, Tessie was homeschooled by a tutor, went nowhere without a family member or bodyguard present, and rarely spoke to outsiders.

Yet, she was laughing with Ariana De Luca.

Sure, I had run a background check on Ariana, and it had come up clean—she wasn’t one of those De Lucas. But still, it was a little uncomfortable to watch the two already so chummy together.

Ariana was monopolizing my attention again, unwittingly stealing another bit of my control. If I didn’t build a larger wall between us and soon, I’d possess no sovereignty over my own mind.

Forcing myself to ignore both Tessie and Ariana, I kicked at Uncle Vince’s leg under the table. When he turned to meet my eyes, I gave a lazy head nod toward Asher and Gio, who were still going at it, Asher with a carefree smirk on his face and Gio with a slight frown.

Uncle Vince rapped a knuckle on the table once, then pointed between them. “You two look like you belong on a marriage counseling ad.”

“Only if I get to be the scorned wife.” Asher leaned forward, nuzzled his face against Gio’s shoulder, and made an exaggerated show of fake tears. “Oh, Dr. Phil, he’s cheating on me. With another man.”

Cue more fake tears.

He could be theatric for a stone-cold killer. When Asher and Lucy were attacked in their penthouse, Asher had his security guards play dead while he picked off his intruders one by one, toying with them, each death a taunt, each second he remained undetected in the dark a tease.

Me? I would have picked them off quickly. Efficiently, with little to no pretense. I didn’t have Asher’s patience, and I. Didn’t. Give. A. Fuck. Since when has patience ever mattered?

Gio pushed Asher’s head off his shoulder. “Fuck off.”

I ignored the three of them, my interest drifting back to Ariana. I couldn’t look away. Why couldn’t I look away? As much as she annoyed me, she also demanded my rapt attention. Perhaps that was why she annoyed me in the first place. That, or her smart mouth and tendency to wage battles against me that she could never win.

I was the dark prince. Jaded. Devious. And a little too fucked up for my own good. I was the guy women talked about ten or twenty years from now, whispering in secret about how I’d given them the only orgasm they could remember only to never call them back.

Ariana De Luca, on the other hand, looked like she belonged in a jewelry commercial for wedding rings, standing between a slightly overweight golden retriever; some pathetic, clinically handsome sap, who doted on her every move; and their two-point-five blonde-haired, blue-eyed children.

When I’d first met her, I had dismissed her. After our last encounter, which ended with her on her back and my cum jetting onto the desk, I knew better. I couldn’t deny her allure, something that couldn’t be pinned down or described in a way that truly did her justice.

She was wearing a black cocktail dress.

Just like I’d asked her to.

Mid-thigh.

Just like I’d asked her to.

Light cleavage.

Just. Like. I’d. Fucking. Asked. Her. To.

Her obedience, unfortunately, was as much of a turn on as her defiance.

And I decided, then and there, that I wanted to fuck her.

Hell, perhaps I had decided that the moment she had served me a glass of Gewürztraminer with the charcuterie platter. The way her lips looked wrapped around a forkful of porchetta only sealed my intentions. Any day now, L’Oscurità would get an applicant worth hiring. When that day came, I would fuck Ariana, and then I’d fire her.

Problem solved.

My phone buzzed. Elsa. Again.

Asher leaned over Gio, plucked my phone from my hand, and answered. “Most women are capable of taking hints, but you’re a special breed of desperate, aren’t you, Elsa?” My lips tilted up in a ghost of a smile until Asher’s eyes widened, and he said, “Oh. Hey, kiddo. Thought you were your mom. Yeah, he’s right here. I’ll hand the phone to him.”

I’d already stood and pried the phone from his fingers before I dipped into my office. “Everett? Is something wrong?”

“Mom’s gone again.”

My fist nearly met the wall until I reeled it back. “Again? What do you mean again?”

“She left yesterday and didn’t come back.”

“Who are you with right now?”

“Nancy.” His nanny. I trusted her. Vetted her myself. Then again, I’d trusted Elsa at one point, too. “I’m booking you a flight here.”

It slipped past my lips before I could take it back. I couldn’t fly to Alabama. That was Andretti territory, and we were at war. Everett couldn’t fly here either, because for his safety, no one outside my inner circle could know he existed. Not while he lived in Alabama. Elsa didn’t know why, but she knew something stopped me from going to Alabama and taking Everett back. She dangled it in front of my nose each time she wanted more money from me.

Are you sure you want Everett in New York? It doesn’t seem like it.

That was all it took before another hundred grand popped into her bank account. She had the best bargaining chip in the world, and fuck that. My son should not have been a bargaining chip. Ever.

“Really?” The excitement in Everett’s voice was a blade to my heart. “I’m coming to New York? But I have school!”

I bit back the relief as I took my out, no matter how much I wanted to see him. I’d bet he’d grown since I’d last seen him.

“Right.” The apology in my voice couldn’t be clearer. I hated that I was having this conversation in the first place. “Maybe next time. We’ll convince your mom to fly you up here in your own jet. We can stay at your Uncle Vince’s house in the Hamptons and go to the beach every day.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Fuck, I hoped I could keep it. “Now put Nancy on the phone, okay?”

A minute later, Nancy answered, her voice tired and aged. “Mr. Romano?”

“Where’s Elsa?”

“Oh, she’ll be back soon. I’m sure.” She didn’t sound sure.

“That’s not what I asked. Where is Elsa?”

A beat of silence passed before she relented, “S-she went on a date, sir.”

“Thank you.”

I hung up and dialed Elsa’s cellphone. Voicemail. Slamming my hand on the wall, I hung up. Any text or voicemail I left in this state would only hurt. She had all the cards. I was so damned sick of it.

When I got back to the table, Asher and Gio were still fighting over his wedding venues. I was tired of it all. My patience for their indecision far exceeded my normal threshold. My knuckles rapped the table once to gather their attention.

“Valentino’s will work. We can send out texts an hour before the wedding with the location for each guest’s arrival.”

A question lingered in all their eyes, but I ignored them all.

My thumb traced the length of a tunnel on one of the blueprints. “One hidden guard outside each entrance, one at the entrance to check guest lists, one at the underground entrance to the church, and three dozen at the church dressed as wedding guests, along with your personal Black Security guards.

“You’ll have at least a dozen undercover Black Security guards patrolling the exterior, dressed as beggars or hot dog vendors. That kind of thing.” I made eye contact with Asher. “I trust you’ll be able to coordinate the rest of the details with your security team and event planner.”

Without another word, I stood up, pushed my chair in, and headed to the bar, my message clear—get the fuck out. L’Oscurità was Asher’s restaurant and bar, sure, but it was mine in all the ways that mattered.

Asher respected that.

My staff respected that.

My customers respected that.

If only my family would respect that.

When she saw me approach, Tessie casually slid her glass of contraband lemonade toward Ariana before her eyes lit up. She turned to me. “Are you done? I don’t want Aunt Lucy to die, but you guys have been here all day!”

At Tessie’s words, Ariana straightened up, and I cursed my baby sister’s big mouth.

My voice was firm when I pointedly said, “Aunt Lucy’s not dying. We’re going over the security for her wedding as a precaution. There’s a difference.” I added the last part for Ariana’s benefit, because I didn’t want her running to the cops about Lucy.

Tessie’s intelligent eyes narrowed. “Are you using big words because you want me to stop talking? Because I know what ‘precaution’ means.”

Of course, she did.

I leaned against the bar, a sour taste in my mouth as I spoke. “Sorry, kiddo. I’ve got to train Ariana. Her first shift is next week.”

Tessie and I rarely saw each other, but I had a thriving business to run, employees to care for, and customers to think about. It sucked, but it was also the real world. I had a son in Alabama and a baby sister in California. Meanwhile, the Romano territory covered Eastern Canada and Northeast America. And though I wanted to protect Tessie, with our blood, she’d learn soon enough how fucked up life could be.

Ariana looked between me and Tessie, her eyes briefly skimming my face before settling on Tessie’s. “I don’t see why you can’t be here while I train.”

Tessie leaned forward. Her eyes glowed as she nodded her head like one of those hula girl bobblehead dolls on the dash of a car going a hundred and twenty miles per hour. “Can I?” She pressed her palms together and intertwined her fingers. “Please, please, please, Bastian.”

I wanted to spend time with my sister, sure, but I didn’t want her here to witness my relentless battle with Ariana.

Battle.

Feud.

Foreplay.

Whatever you called it, it was inappropriate for an eight-year-old kid to watch.

But it was already hard to say no to Tessie once, and I couldn’t say no to her twice, so I nodded my head. Tessie jumped off her seat like a flying monkey, clung to me tightly as I caught her mid-air, and pressed several sloppy kisses to my cheek.

I noticed Ariana’s curious eyes on me as I shifted Tessie to my back. There was a question within those sea green depths, but I wasn’t the type to ask. I was the type to demand. But I couldn’t in front of Tessie, because I didn’t want her to think it was okay for some fucker to treat her like that.

The hypocrisy wasn’t lost on me.

As if I gave a fuck.

I began to speak in rapid fire. “You’ll get a drink menu sent home with you tonight. Read it. Memorize it. Live it. You’ll be expected to be able to make, describe, and sell everything on the menu by your next training session.”

Her eyes advertised her hate for me like an oversized Times Square billboard. “And that is?”

I leveled her with a glare for cutting me off, the efficacy of my glare probably diminished by the adorable eight-year-old girl clinging to my back. “Tomorrow. Same time.”

Ariana’s eyes connected with mine, and she crossed her arms. “Would that be half past noon or”—she looked at her watch— “three past two?”

Ariana didn’t let anything slide. Elsa had that same attitude. I’d liked it about her, so seeing it in Ariana pissed me off.

I ignored both her attitude and her question, unwilling to deal with any more bullshit today. “Blenders are in the back of the bar. Make sure the covers are on tight before you press any buttons. The covers muffle the sound, and no one wants to hear the help work.”

She ignored the jab, unfazed by my brand of asshole. Something about that—and her—made me feel exposed. I wanted her to be like everyone else.

A coward.

Pathetic.

Weak.

Powerless.

But even thinking that, I knew she was none of those things. She either fought back or ignored me entirely, and that, in turn, unnerved me. I needed her to leave.

Now.

I pointed to a door past her shoulder and spoke even faster. “Ice is in the basement freezer. When it’s your shift and you’ve been assigned the right-side shift, you’ll be expected to bring ice up when the levels reach about twenty percent. There are extra bottles of alcohol stocked underneath the top shelf cabinets.”

I opened one of the upper cabinets. “Always keep each bottle stocked. If there are only two left, you’ll be expected to restock them from the basement. Except the Dom Perignon, Patrón, Grey Goose, Crown Royal, Hennessy, Ciroc, Johnnie Walker, Don Julio, Maker’s Mark, Belvedere and Bombay Sapphire.”

I pointed to the rows with those bottles and closed the cabinet before she could process the brands. “Those are our top sellers. You push those. Hard. And when they’re down to five bottles, you restock. Always.”

I pointed to the rows of tap levers. “Alcohol on tap is refilled by a vendor during pre-open prep. Additional rules will be in the employee handbook I emailed to you this morning, along with your initial offer, non-disclosure agreement, and contract. The offer expires at midnight. Any questions?”

It was a challenge. I had shot information at her quicker than most could retain it, but if she asked a question, it would be tantamount to admitting failure. And if I were being honest, neither of us wanted that.

I was very aware that Tessie was here and very aware of what I wanted to say if she wasn’t.

I’ll bend you over my knee.

Spank that perfect, round ass.

Show you what happens when you misbehave.

Our gazes locked, our resolves tangled, and I raised a single brow. Another challenge. My eyes narrowed as I read the unspoken words her eyes screamed.

You can’t fool me, they taunted.

I know what you’re doing, they mocked.

I see you, they destroyed.

Her eyes may have conquered me, but all those pouty, defiant lips gave me was a short, “None.” She grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and returned her arresting gaze to me. “I take it that’s the end of training?”

She looked at her watch again before she continued, “Huh. It took you two hours to do a fifteen-minute job. Funny. I never took you as”—her eyes dipped to my cock—“… incompetent.” Her eyes lifted to Tessie’s, and her voice transformed into something warmer than I would ever be on the receiving end of. “See you around, Tessie,” she said, succeeding in calling my sister a nickname she refused to let me use.

And then she left, her swaying hips teasing me with each step she took towards the door.

Christ, who was this woman?

I was supposed to be breaking her spirit. It should have been easier than this, but each move I made was met with fire, and each step I took reached an unexpected stalemate. If this were a game of chess, it would be a draw.

I had met my match with Ariana De Luca, and that made me want to defeat her, fuck her, then destroy her.