“C’moooooon, Tony.”

Blondie sighs into my ear, her vermouth and gin breath gusting over my nose as she tries to shimmy over my legs, a feat that sends a lot of raised eyebrows my way, considering this chick’s dress is practically hiked up to her panties.

It makes my cock stand to attention when her little ass rubs my lap. She’s wearing the same panties as yesterday. Dirty. Sexy.

But if I thought for a second that I had a good chance of running into yesterday’s one-night stand, I would’ve never come to this bar. I fucked her last night, and the needy bitch wants seconds.

Of course she does.

She grips my waist with surprising strength and lands a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I sweep a hand over her bare shoulders and a row of goose bumps sprouts over her skin.

“Sweetheart, listen to me.” I smile, painfully.

“No.”

She pouts her small lips for a moment and then erupts into giggles.

“No? What the fuck do you mean, no?”

“I don’t wanna listen. I wanna fuck.”

My cock wants to fuck her, too. It swells in my slacks despite how much I want it to calm down. I don’t fuck girls twice. Ever. Whatsherface is making it extremely hard for me to turn her away.

Blondie slides her manicured hand over my thigh and grabs the bulge between my legs. It twitches in response and I groan out loud, embarrassed for my cock. Blood roars through my veins, pounding through my head: Shut up and fuck the girl.

It’s hard to ignore that fucking voice when it’s hissing in your ear, over and over.

Goddamn her. I grab a fistful of her hair and bend my mouth to her ear. “Fucking listen to me or I’ll spank you in front of this whole bar.”

That captures her attention. Finally.

She shuts up and her doe-like eyes find mine, but they drop away almost immediately, focusing on my chest and arms. She places her hands on me and feels me up. I don’t want her, but it’s hard for my cock not to get excited when I’ve a half-naked chick bouncing on my lap.

It’s hard to keep her eyes locked on mine. She has the attention span of a goldfish and is just about as bright. I tap her cheek lightly and she turns her head toward mine again.

“We had fun last night, but it’s over. I don’t go out with girls more than once.”

I’m distracted by her nipple, which slips out of that thing she calls a dress, and my cock jumps in my slacks.

“It feels like you want me again.”

Then her hand tightens around my stiffening cock and I am less and less aware of the fact that there are people gawking at us.

Jesus.

Blonde hair tickles my neck as she leans in, smiling drunkenly. “I’ll leave you alone if you fuck me one more time.”

One more time?

I blow air out from my cheeks and consider it. She’s a lusty broad, and willing—and I could easily bring her to the back and fuck her in one of the VIP booths. Or the storeroom. I can just imagine her slick, pink pussy wrapping around me like a glove, just like it did last night. I could fuck her cunt nice and fast, and as long as she didn’t spread out word that Tony Vidal could be persuaded into a second fuck, I’d be all right.

“You’re the best I ever had, baby.”

You’re not the best I ever had.

Still, she was a good, hot fuck and she came real nice for me. Sometimes they come in the bar looking for me because they know who I’m connected with, and they think that if they flash their tits at me I’ll loan them money or beat the shit out of their boyfriends—no. Other times they’re danger whores looking for a hot piece of action. They know I’m a bad boy, and they’ll fuck me if I pretend to tell them some secrets about the mob. It gets me off to see them hot for my cock. I stick my fingers in their cunts and make them scream for me. They twist and writhe, and I make them come before I get my dick wet. I’ve got a real reputation for scoring pussy. Tony—the great fuck. Hey, it’s not a bad one.

Her fingers splay over my chest and they coil around my cock. It thickens in her hand and she gives me this coy little smile, because she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

“You just want me balls deep inside your cunt, don’t you?”

She doesn’t bat an eye. “Yes.”

All right. Fuck it.

“I’ll bang the shit out of you—again. But that’s it. No more. You know the rules.”

She nods drunkenly. “Yeah, I know the—the rules.”

We slide off the stool and her tits practically pop out as she stumbles next to me. The guys in the bar wheel their heads around like sharks smelling blood, but she’s my meal for tonight. Actually, only a snack, really, because I’m interested in the piece of ass I briefly spotted. If I see anyone else talking to her when I get back, I’ll tell him to fuck off right before smashing his fucking face into the wall.

I drag her bony ass behind the bar, looking for Tommy before I open the door to his storeroom. It’s a small, dusty room with boxes of liquor. There’s nothing really important, but he’d bust a nut if he knew I was fucking in here.

“Tony.”

I turn around after closing the door, and the crazy bitch stands there, already naked. Her pink dress pools at her feet. My eyes follow her bare, slim legs to her trim waist—not an ounce of fat—and then her small, firm tits. Seeing them now reminds me how I nailed her tight little cunt, how her tits almost seemed to fit in my mouth, and how she squealed when I sucked on her perfect skin. She opens her mouth, but all I want from her lips is to have them wrapped around my cock. Her shaved pussy gleams as I approach her, slapping her inner thigh. She spreads her legs apart and I run my fingers over her swollen clit.

My cock throbs as she tilts her head back, her blonde hair hanging as her chest pulses.

“Fuck me, Tony.”

The request makes my mouth water, but not as much as her glistening pussy. I want her swollen lips in my mouth. I want to taste her while she comes on my tongue.

“Do I look like the kind of guy who takes demands from women?”

Still smiling stupidly, she shakes her head. “No.”

“Then why are you trying to treat me like a bitch?”

The question is too complex for her to answer in her state. Still, I enjoy watching the puzzlement on her face as she struggles to figure out an appropriate response. She lifts her small shoulders in a shrug.

I sit down on a box and beckon to her with a single finger.

“I want to taste that beautiful cunt of yours.”

Blondie smiles coyly as she approaches me, her small feet curling against the cold floor.

“I want you to grind your pussy against my face. Move.”

I reach around and give her a vicious slap over her ass. Her muscles twitch as a bright-red burn flushes her skin. She giggles and moves forward. I smell her musk—it’s all over her thighs. She spreads them apart and I grab her ass cheeks, loving how firm they are, and then my tongue darts out, tasting her. Her taste swirls around my tongue as I press my face to her greedy cunt, reaching back and eating her pussy for all I’m worth. She lets out a long moan and digs her fingers in my hair, which I hate, but I allow because her antics turn me the fuck on. I catch a glimpse of myself eating out this chick in the mirror across the room, and I laugh into her heated pussy. It doesn’t get much fucking better than this—scoring hot chicks every fucking night.

A sharp intake of breath from her tells me that I’m on the right track. She yanks hard when I plunge my tongue inside her slippery walls, using my finger to rub her clit.

“Fuck—Yeah, right there.”

“You like that, baby? You want to come?”

“Y-yes!” She gasps out, her chest dotted with red.

I use my hands to bring her closer to the edge. My fingers dive into her wet cunt, curling forward until I hit that sweet spot. She gasps, clinging to my hair. My tongue swirls around her swollen nub, sucking the juices that spill from her. Then I insert a third finger and her thighs twitch on either side of her. She lets out a long groan as she comes over my fingers, her pussy clenching me hard. My dick strains against my slacks as I feel her come undone. I slide my fingers out of her and wipe her juices on the inside of her thighs.

“Holy fuck,” she says, sounding as though I fucked the drunkenness out of her.

“All right. Now get the fuck out of here.”

I give her another slap across her ass and push her back as she gasps for breath.

“But—you said you’d fuck me!”

I grin at the confusion clouding her face. “And I did.”

“That’s not what I wanted!”

“I wanted you to leave me the fuck alone, but I guess we don’t always get the things we want in life.”

“Fuck you!”

A smirk tightens my face. “Already have.”

Then I leave her standing there, naked and stunned. It’s a bit of a dick move, but I told the girl about my rules. I was very clear. One night. No repeats.

I duck into the bathroom to wash the pussy juice from my hands and face, laughing as I catch a glimpse of my disheveled appearance in the mirror. My dick is still half-hard, but I decide to leave it alone. I walk out, passing the storeroom as I reenter the bar and take my seat.

Pussy and the mob are pretty much my life.

My nights are pretty much the same.

It starts with a look.

One glance across the bar. A giggle, a smile, a shadow of a wink.

I’m into you.

Really what they’re saying is: Let’s fuck.

It’s a language I’ve got down to a science over the years.

Then I look at the girl. She’s sitting at the far end of the bar. Is she my type? Too thin? I’ll take a woman with curves any day over some stick-thin model with a bony ass. Red lipstick. Cherry red. I’ve got a theory on lipstick color. The redder it is, the more wild she’ll be in bed.

Long, slender neck. Like a swan. She has dark-brown eyes—I can see their color all the way from here. Nice thick lips. A black dress with thin straps clings to her shoulders. Jesus, the shit girls wear when it’s minus ten outside.

My eyes slip right down to her plunging neckline.

Nice tits, honey.

Yeah, I’m checking them out. So what? She notices and a pretty blush blooms over her porcelain cheeks.

The chair squeaks as I shift myself uncomfortably, my cock stirring as I think about what she’d look like naked. What will her tits feel like in my hands? I imagine striding to her right now and pulling down that tight cocktail dress to free them.

Oh, Maddon. I can feel my cock throbbing as I imagine the filthy things I’d like to do to her body. Tie her up, loop the rope around her tits, and make her bend her knees to suck my cock then I’d return the favor and stick my tongue between her legs until she comes. Vivid images flash through my head, slowly getting my dick hard, but I stay here and sip my drink, giving her a friendly smile.

Right away I can tell that this girl is not used to being ignored. She keeps trying to catch my gaze, but she won’t budge. Fuck, she’s one of those girls. I’m tempted to wait her out, to let her come to me, but I can’t risk some other asshole hitting on her.

Draining my glass, I set it down and slide off the stool, making a beeline for her. She pretends not to notice as I slide in right next to her. A pleasant citrus smell wafts from her neck and I bathe in it for a moment.

“How’s it going, hon?”

Her delicate face turns toward me and my heart flips inside my chest. Wow, she’s gorgeous. She doesn’t wear too much makeup. Great skin. She’s average height, with long, thick, dark-brown hair, a few curls teased around her face. Nice pouty lips and big eyes. They’re animated—full of emotion. Large golden hoops for earrings. Beautiful face and body. She looks like a hyper-sexualized version of the Italian girls I grew up with. I can almost see her nipples through the fabric, and a vision of me bending her over the bar table consumes my mind.

“Not that well, actually.”

A loud New York accent shakes from her mouth. She plays with the almost empty drink in her hand and gives me a fleeting look. Then she does a double take, a slow blush spreading over her cheeks as she checks me out.

Take a good look, hon.

“Can I get you a drink?”

My lips pull into a grin as her blush deepens. She wraps her fingers around her drink and gives a little shake of her head.

I want her hair coiled around my fist as she kneels on all fours, her tits swinging as I nail her from behind. The heat of that vision almost makes me groan, because she is, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen.

I ignore her dismissal and lean in closer. “Damn, I didn’t think a girl like you would get so hot and bothered over a small request.”

She worries her lip and catches me staring. “I am not hot and bothered.”

A deep chuckle rumbles through my chest. “Sure you aren’t, sweetheart.”

She parts her lips and gives me a long look, a strand of hair hiding her face. I’m tempted to reach out and brush it behind her ear, just for an excuse to glide my fingers over her perfect skin.

Her eyes are slightly glazed over as her gaze meets mine. “You don’t know me.”

“I don’t need to know you to buy you a drink.”

I flag down the bartender, ordering us a couple drinks. Then I turn back to this smoking-hot broad, wondering what’s the best angle I should use to take her home with me. Though, it doesn’t look like I’ll have to try very hard. Desire rolls off her shoulder in waves, like a heat lamp. The way her eyes can’t seem to stop glancing at me—yeah, this chick wants my cock.

“What’s your name, beautiful?”

She narrows her eyes. “Elena.”

“I’m Tony.”

Elena accepts her drink from the bartender and takes a long sip. “Listen, I’m not in the mood.”

Yeah, right. That’s the most feeble brush-off I’ve ever heard.

I raise my eyebrow, toying with her. “In the mood for what?”

Long, brown hair swings in front of her tits as she leans toward me with a half-drunken smile. “For you to list reasons why I should go home with you.”

“There’s only one reason, actually.”

“Yeah?”

My voice lowers to a slow growl. “I think that you’ve had a very long day, and you’re desperate for a nice, thick cock to pound your pussy. You want a reason? I’ll give you one. I’ll fuck you so hard and good that your clit’s going to feel my cock thrusting underneath long after I’m gone.”

She coughs into her drink, her cheeks blazing like a fire engine. “Wow. Does that line ever work for you?”

It clearly did. Despite her unimpressed tone, she keeps her face buried in her drink. I can see the way she presses her thighs together, and the color of her cheeks says it all, really.

“Sometimes. So far, I think it’s working pretty well on you.”

She snorts into her drink and shifts in her seat, her leg bumping into mine. “Well, you got my attention.”

The slight touch of her leg against my slacks makes me think of having her naked, our bodies intertwined. Blood pounds in my head and I can’t think of anything else but the desire roaring through my veins.

Keep it together.

“Are you actually good in bed, or is it all bullshit?”

The way she shivers under my gaze gets my cock so goddamn hard. “Ask around, sweetheart. I’m a great fuck, any girl will tell you that.”

“Hm—that’s not very enticing.”

“Why, because I’ve fucked around?” Disappointment seethes my insides. I can’t stand prudes, but she doesn’t seem like one. A small smile lingers on her lips. Teasing. She’s teasing me. “I’ll make you come on my tongue and lick every drop from your sweet pussy.”

Her face heats up like a lamp and she hurriedly swallows the rest of her glass, sputtering slightly. A drop lands on her tits, and I’m tempted to lean over and lick it right off.

“What makes you think you can talk to me like that?”

“I’m sorry, hon. You told me you weren’t in the mood so I thought I’d get right to it. I’ll make you forget every asshole who didn’t treat you like the goddess you are. Is that what you want to hear?”

“You should have started out with that one.”

Her eyelids flutter as I reach out and touch her shoulder. That thin little strap just begs to be ripped off. Elena looks at my hand and her lips part slightly. Fuck, it’s hot.

“I like to cut to the chase. Life’s too short to spend it talking about bullshit.”

“Me too. And the answer is no.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re coming home with me tonight.”

She cocks her head and crosses her legs. “I’m not interested.”

“Your body tells me something different.”

Then she raises a middle finger with a shadow of a grin ghosting her face. “How about now? What is my body telling you right now?”

My chest shakes with laughter at this little spitfire. “It tells me that you like the chase.”

“Uh-huh.”

She rolls her eyes again at me, brushing an errant strand from her head, and I catch her wrist in mine. Elena sucks in her breath slightly and blood rushes to my chest when I feel her heartbeat through her skin.

“You like the filthy shit I keep whispering in your ear. Admit it.”

“Maybe I do, but I’m still not interested.”

She says one thing, but doesn’t make a move to pull from my grasp. Like a flower starved of sunlight, she opens up to me. Wants more. There’s a vein jumping in her neck: I. Want. Him.

A flash of irritation sears my chest. “You have a boyfriend, right?”

Elena sips her drink quietly.

“Fuck him. Come home with me instead.”

“He’s more like an asshole ex.” Her eyes darken at the mention of him.

Ah, even better.

“Didn’t I tell you? I’ll make you forget about him.”

Her eyes shine like dark gems as she stares at me, her bottom lip trembling as if she dares to believe.

Fuck, I want to get closer to this girl, but I want her without all the guys gawking at her, so I stand up.

“Take your drink. C’mon.”

“Where are we—?”

I take her hand and pull her from the bar stools, bringing her to the back rooms with VIP booths. The noise drops away slightly as we enter the mostly deserted VIP room. I sit down, still holding her hand. She looks hesitant, but my smile wins her over. It always wins them over.

She slides over the booth, and I don’t throw an arm over her like I want to. The leather couch squeaks as she moves closer to me, her thigh gently touching mine as she turns her body toward me. Her big, expressive eyes tremble in the low light. This girl is fucking scared. Nervous?

I push it aside as I take her in. My eyes can’t get enough of the smoothness of her skin, the way the dress folds over her tits and ass, and her lips, slightly puffy as though from a bee sting.

“So is this where you’re going to make me come with your tongue?” The last bit shakes from her voice in a nervous laugh.

“If that’s what you want, sure.”

She inhales deeply and exhales in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

“I do.”

My finger runs along her jaw, turning her face toward mine so that those stung lips are right under mine. I hold her there the same way I’d hold her over the edge of a cliff. She trembles, waiting for me to make the first move. Her breath mists over my face and then she shakes her head.

“No, I can’t.”

No. Yes. No. Yes. Make up your fucking mind.

“I’m sorry. I can’t while he’s still in my life.”

Like I give a fuck about stepping on some other douchebag’s toes.

Her brown eyes widen. “Seriously, if he saw me with someone else he’d—”

“Elena.”

My thumb moves across her cheek, under those beautiful, blowjob lips that I’d love to give a test run.

“What?”

“Shut up.”

Then I kiss her.

It’s like an instant high the moment my lips touch hers. The heat I’ve been watching flush her skin burns into my mouth. My hands drop down her silky neck, and I take a fistful of her hair and sweep it aside. Blood pounds through my veins as my tongue sweeps over her bottom lip. Then I grasp the base of her neck, my cock pounding with blood.

She pulls away from me with a painful yelp, her hands flying to her neck, where I notice shadows of purple. What the fuck? Are those bruises?

My chest slowly fills with heat as I connect the dots. Elena lets her hands fall from her neck and shakes her hair back into place, flattening it nervously.

“I—this is a bad idea.”

My cock screams for me to keep going, to pin her down and lick her from head to toe.

“If it’s a bad idea, why did you follow me in here?”

Elena’s fingers linger on my chest. A flare of warmth spreads where she touches me and she lifts her head.

“I was selfish.”

A weak feeling seizes my chest when she says that. I don’t know why. “You’re not selfish for wanting me. Ditch the loser and come home with me.”

A sad smile twitches across her face. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is.”

I bend my head again, taking her lips in mine before she can utter a protest. Ah—fuck, the way she feels, her body rubbing against mine, her soft lips. Her palm rides my chest, the heel digging into my muscles. I just can’t wait another moment without knowing what her tits feel like, so I brush my palm against the warm curve of her breast. My thumb kneads her hard nipple as I deepen the kiss. She utters a moan against my lips that makes my dick throb. I squeeze her and then my hand moves to her waist and I take a handful of her flesh.

“Ow!”

Elena breaks off the kiss with a painful cry, and I snatch my hand away as if it were burned. Jesus, is she covered in bruises?

Small tears bead in her dark eyes and a surge of rage flashes across my eyes.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She shakes her head, dismissive. “It’s fine.”

Like hell it is.

“Who is your ex?”

“Why?”

“So I can beat the shit out of him.”

It bursts out of me before I can really think about what I’m saying, but it occurs to me that I really want to do this. I want to find the prick and bash his fucking head in. What kind of man hits a woman? It boils my blood to see this kind of shit. I’m no white knight, but I want this girl to not flinch when I touch her.

“Yeah, that’s not a good idea.”

Surprise rattles through my head. “Are you one of those chicks that keeps running back to the guy who beats you up?”

The icy glare she shoots me says it all. “Fuck you.”

“Then why’s it not a good idea?”

“Look, you seem like a tough guy and all, but my ex is—ah, connected.”

Connected. He’s in the mob? Huh. Interesting.

“You can say the word, you know. It’s not a bad one. Mafia.”

Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. “He’s a wise guy.”

“So am I, hon.”

The energy shifts between us. All of a sudden, it’s tense. I reach down to my ankle and show her the piece I have strapped there. She sits up straighter and I have to laugh at her startled expression. An apprehensive look overcomes her face.

“Are you—are you with Johnny’s crew?”

Her wispy voice trembles from her uncertain lips, and I incline my head.

She knows Johnny—knows who I’m connected to. This is getting more and more interesting.

Elena drops her voice, adopting a frightened timbre. “Could I ask you—I mean, are you the right person?”

“I work for John. You can ask me anything.”

Elena bites her thumb anxiously, shooting me looks before she finally sighs. “I need to put a hit on someone, and I’ve a lot of cash.”

A hit.

My head turns so violently that I pull a muscle in my neck. I study her. It’s not often that I get asked for a hit from a woman. Her eyes burn with a quiet intensity that instantly raises my suspicions. Is she with the cops? Nah, I fucking doubt it.

“Let me guess, your boyfriend?”

She nods.

Plenty of women have hired my services to “take care” of violent boyfriends. My fists. Their face. That’s all it takes for them to walk away forever.

Not this guy.

A violent surge of energy pounds through my veins, making the ones on my hands swell.

“I think I have a pretty good idea, but why?”

She slowly licks her lips and just the small motion is enough to make my dick throb.

“I left him and he’s coming for me. He won’t stop until I’m dead. It’s him or me.”

I breathe in her tantalizing scent, my eyes all over her generous cleavage, and my balls seize when her thighs bump against mine. I reach up, brushing back her dark-brown hair, and I touch one of the bruises on her neck. She flinches but doesn’t pull away.

“Sure you want to do this? I’ve handled guys like this before.”

Her voice hardens and her big eyes narrow at me. “I want him dead. I have ten thousand American dollars in cash.”

Well, this isn’t quite how I imagined my night ending up. Fuck. I can’t quite believe what I’m seeing. This angelic, little Italian girl who looks as though she would shrink from the sight of blood is asking me to kill a man. Her boyfriend.

“What’s his name?”

The intensity from her eyes finally drops as she glances away and murmurs the name. It’s so soft that I can barely hear it. “R-Rafael Costa.”

My insides blaze when I hear the name. I only know one Rafael Costa, and he’s in New York. He’s one of us—La Cosa Nostra. The new boss, Vincent, would chop my head off if I touched one of his made guys.

Disappointment settles in my guts like lead as I lift myself from the couch and grab a couple glasses along with a huge bottle of vodka.

I can’t help her. Fuck.

“Will you do it?”

I sit back down next to her, my eyes on her beautiful body. I imagine it sprawled on a floor somewhere, a hairline crack in her skull, a red pool of blood behind her head.

My jaw aches. Turning back to the table, I pour a couple glasses and press one into her questioning hands.

“Drink, sweetheart. You look like you could use it.”

Elena lets out a sigh and brings the drink to her lips. “You’re not wrong.”

Heat burns down my chest as I swallow the alcohol, the warmth glowing in my cock as her body jostles next to me. She drains the glass and reaches the bottle before I can pour her another. The crazy broad just takes it as if she owns it.

I like her already.

“Will you do it?”

I hate saying the next few words.

“He’s a made guy. I can’t.”

Elena’s face falls horribly for a moment right as she brings the second drink to her mouth. For a moment I’m horrified that she might cry, but the look disappears. She shrugs, indifferent.

“Whatever.”

Whatever. Yeah fucking right.

Fuck. I don’t want to know anything about this woman. I don’t want to feel sorry for her, and I shouldn’t want anything to do with her. She’s another guy’s girl, but he doesn’t respect her, so why should I respect his claim?

I catch a strand of her dark hair dangling in front of her face and twirl it in my finger before gently tucking it behind her ear. Her nostrils flare as I stroke the side of her cheek.

“I’m going to go.”

I catch her hand as she stands up. “No, come on. Stay.”

Elena tugs it out of my grasp, shaking her head. “I can’t.”

I don’t have the heart to lay more filthy lines on her, not when pity tightens my chest. I watch her leave the VIP lounge, her head still held high. It’s as though she’s not a victim.

Then I’m left uncomfortably alone with my thoughts. Instead of picking up another chick, I go home. I wander to my bedroom and lay flat on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

It’s the most empty moment of my day. I feel my heart beating, but nothing much else.

* * *

My boots slide through gray slush on the streets as my breath puffs out in white clouds. I reach for the door handle of Le Zinc, Johnny’s restaurant and headquarters. It’s a swanky, upscale French bistro with an antique zinc bar. I step inside the warmth gratefully, the sudden heat prickling my frozen fingers and toes. Pierre, a young guy who watches the door, nods at me as I enter.

It’s noon and the place is packed. A mixture of Johnny’s crew and oblivious civilians fill the restaurant. Pierre takes the wool coat from my shoulders and I smooth the suit over my chest. Johnny sits at his usual table in the back. He stands up, smiling, his arms outstretched.

“Tony, how are you?”

Tommy, the new soldier, sits nearby, along with one of Johnny’s captains—Fred. At first sight, Johnny doesn’t look like much. He’s slender and slight of build, and usually wears a small smile, but he’s the thirty-five-year-old boss of the Cravotta family. At the age of twenty, he bought out all the payment companies and had all the construction companies in his pocket. At twenty-five, he bought out a dairy company up north and began extorting all restaurants and grocery stores that didn’t use Verdino cheese. Now every grocery store only stocks his cheese, and restaurants that fail to make protection payments go up in flames. When he was thirty, he backed Les Diables, a biker gang in the city, during the biker wars. They work for him now. He gets a taste from every construction company, restaurant, casino, and racetrack in Montreal. He’s invincible.

It’s for those reasons that I always seem to forget to breathe in his presence. I’m not the kind of guy who gets nervous, but Johnny’s a fucking legend.

He smiles at me as though I’m his best friend and pulls me into a fierce hug, and I kiss him on both cheeks. It means nothing. I’ve seen him smile like that to a man he pulled into an embrace, right before he dug his pistol into the man’s chest and killed him.

“Hey, John.”

“Have a seat. Do you want something to eat?” Always courteous, Johnny waves over someone even after I shake my head.

He gives me a menu, but I know the thing by heart at this point. The waiter bustles to our table, his pen poised over a small notepad.

“No, really, John. I’m good.”

“At least have a drink with me.”

The waiter grabs the bottle of wine, a vintage from Tuscany, and pours a glass for me. “All right.”

He swirls his glass over the white tablecloth and lifts it to his lips. “Tabarnak, c’est bon.” Fuck, it’s good.

My hand curls over the stem of the wineglass, and I take a small mouthful. It’s pretty fucking good—dry and full of flavor. I set the glass down, avoiding his painful stare.

“I’ve bad news about Turner Construction,” I say finally, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “They won’t do business with us.”

Johnny doesn’t say anything for a moment, but a sudden, caustic, burning heat flares from his eyeballs. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

I swallow hard. “They’re an American company—they don’t do business like us. They can’t accept bribes.”

“Then you make them understand how it’s done.”

I grit my teeth from the rumble in his voice. “I tried leaning on the boss a little, but I think they’re just going to leave Montreal. They just don’t want to deal with us. I’m sorry, John.”

There’s nothing but the sound of people talking, the clatter of silverware, and John’s frozen stare boring into my skull. He opens his mouth.

“I’m really disappointed with you, Tony. I thought you were a better negotiator.”

I clench my hands over the table, feeling a surge of anger.

Don’t get angry at the boss.

“There was nothing else I could do. Americans don’t do business with the mob. It’s just that simple.”

“Do you think I got to where I am now because I gave up that easily?”

Quiet resentment builds inside my chest as he stares at me.

I never wanted this life for myself.

“There’s something else I need you to do.”

He reaches in his jacket and I tense for a moment, because he could easily be reaching for a gun. Johnny smiles at me as he takes a photograph from his inner jacket and shows it to me.

It’s a family photo of Jack Vittorio, the former New York boss, and his wife and—the girl I met yesterday. Holy shit, she’s Jack Vittorio’s daughter?

“This girl showed up in my restaurant yesterday, trying to contract a hit on a made guy.”

“Yeah, I met her in Tommy’s bar. She asked me for the same thing.”

Johnny smirks at me. “You’re fucking kidding me?”

“Nope. I told her no, of course.”

“Anyway, I need you to watch her. I don’t want anyone fucking up my relationship with New York or Les Diables. She might try going to them next. Do not let her.”

An unpleasant twist leaves me feeling gutted as I stare into the photograph. She’s beautiful, really—the type of girl my Ma would love. Dark hair and innocent, big eyes. Italian.

“And Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Try to keep your dick in your pants.”

“I can’t promise that,” I respond, grinning at the photo.

He sighs loudly. “Go. Get the fuck out of here and start your collections.”

The cold, dismissive tone freezes my jaw shut. I somehow manage to grunt out a good-bye and then I stand from the table. He’s looking somewhere else. It’s as if I’m already gone.

Fucking hell, I need to get a new job.

But that’s it, isn’t it? I can’t just quit—not after becoming a made member. It’s not just a job. It’s a way of life.

I gather my wool coat and shrug it over my shoulders, eager to get out of there. At first it was great. All the pussy I could want and more money than I’d ever had, but after a while you start to notice that all the girls kind of look the same. They act the same, and they want the same things from you. Namely, your money. But I still want something to fill the gaping hole that girl nailed into my chest the other night.

* * *

The warmth slowly unfreezes my fingers as I flex them, pain prickling all over my skin as they thaw. I clench my jaw, thinking of the sickening sound of cracking bone. It replays over and over in my head. The image of the lead pipe in my hand repeats in my head as I smash it against his knees, producing a thick, meaty sound. His face contorts with pain as his knees explode into fragments. The gag I shove down his mouth only partially muffles his screams.

Fuck, the sounds.

I take my seat at the bar, and Genevieve, the curly-haired bartender, slides me my drink almost immediately, knowing that I’m in one of my moods. She doesn’t even meet my gaze. I slam back the drink, that awful burn reminding me of gasoline, but I swallow it down. It’s like adding mulch over fire. Drinking drowns it out for a little while, but it’s still burning underneath. The flames lick through, and my head starts to pound, and I keep drinking. I don’t remember if I’m drinking to numbness, or whether I’m drinking to feel something, or whether I’m drinking just to drink.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. It always ends up the same.

I take a look around, trying to get my mind off of it—trying to find something sweet to alleviate the bitterness in my mouth—and then I see her.

It’s her again.

I freeze as she whisks by me, a citrus breeze wafting across my nose. I turn around to watch a slim waist, her shirt riding over her hips, giving me a nice view of her perfectly round ass, which bounces in her black leggings. She slides right over the stool next to me without realizing that I’m looking at her, a slight frown creasing her forehead.

Try to keep your dick in your pants.

If Johnny really cared about that, he would have been more clear.

She’s involved with a made guy. You could get killed if you touch her.

Dying for fucking a girl seems like a good way to go. Actually, I’d prefer to die while fucking a girl, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Johnny could kill you.

I don’t give a fuck.

She’s the daughter of a boss. You don’t fuck daughters of bosses. You don’t look at them. You don’t talk to them except to say, “Hello, how are you?” and, “Good-bye.” She’s the forbidden fruit. A conquest.

I have to bang this broad.

My first instinct is to touch her shoulder, her waist, to overwhelm her with my presence. I’m a master at getting girls to come home with me. Before long, I’ll have her begging to suck my cock.

I lean in slightly, and I let my hand grasp the head of her chair. “Hey, beautiful. What’s got you down?”

She doesn’t even look at me. “Fuck off.”

So the Mafia princess has a mouth, doesn’t she? Intriguing. Genevieve hears the exchange and grins at me behind that bar counter.

The energy burning from her body is completely different from last time. Last time, she was scared. Defeated. Today, she’s pissed. Did Johnny turn her down again?

I give Genevieve a nod, and she pours a drink for the girl.

“What’s this?”

“I’m buying you a drink.”

She pushes it away. “I don’t want your fucking drink.”

Then why did you sit right next to me?

“What’s with the tone?”

“You’re just trying to get into my pants.”

“Is it a crime that I think you’re gorgeous?”

She turns her head, her long hair snagging on her creamy shoulders. Brown eyes look at me under her long lashes, and they widen as she takes in my appearance. Gently parted lips beckon to me, and I smile at her. My cock makes an impatient twitch as her lips lift slightly.

Her slim body slides off the stool and she walks close to me. Close enough so that blood pounds in my ears and I’m face-to-face with an amazing view of her cleavage. Her lips, slightly wet with pink lipstick, tremble. The citrus scent floats over me like a cloud, not overpowering, but pleasant.

“I’ll do whatever you want if you get rid of my ex for me.”

Goddamn. The desperation in her voice makes my stomach sink, but I’m tempted to say yes. Fuck him—fuck the mob, I’ll kill him for you because I want to suck on your lips and feel the warmth of your tits in my palms.

Instead, I shake my head, hating the disappointment in her eyes. Her hand slides away from mine.

Don’t let her go!

“I’m sorry, hon. You’re not going to get anyone to agree to do that for you.”

She shakes her head, her eyes watering, and she gives a hopeless, sharp intake of breath that makes my insides clench.

I take her shoulder, half expecting her to throw my hand off, but she lets me touch her skin. My fingers just graze over her and her eyelids flutter.

“Come home with me and you’ll forget all about that asshole. I’ll make you feel really good, Elena. I promise.”

Her body shivers and she steps back from me. Temptation brews in her eyes like a storm gathering. I see it shifting and receding. She wants to, but she doesn’t want to.

Then she opens her mouth, her eyes hardening into marbles.

“I want nothing to do with you.”

Frustration gathers in my chest when she shoots me down. I want this woman—she’s a goddamn prize, and I would gladly shoot her ex-boyfriend in the face if it wouldn’t get me killed.

Elena turns to leave, taking her coat, but I grab her tiny wrist. I pull her into my chest and she utters a gasp. My arm wraps around her waist and she swallows hard.

“At least have a drink with me.”

“No.”

“Come on. One drink.”

She wets her lips, and for a moment I imagine them crushed against mine. My fingers tease around the hem of her shirt and then her eyes glint with pain and she reaches behind herself, grabbing my hands to rip them away from her body.

“You don’t know how to take no for an answer, do you?”

I grin at her, loving how ferocious she is, and the way her brown eyes seem to sparkle with electricity. Girl’s got fire.

“You kissed me back the other night and left me with a raging hard-on. I can’t leave you alone.”

Her mouth parts almost as though she’s about to give in, but then her eyes harden. “I don’t want you. End of story.”

Yet she doesn’t pull away when I grasp her chin and lean down close enough to feel her breath over my cheeks, and to see her neck pulsing with her racing heartbeat. My fingers run along her jaw, moving to the back of her head, into her silky hair. My lips fall against hers, and her mouth opens in a gasp. It’s intoxicating. This girl makes my body hot, and my other arm snakes around her tiny waist. I pull her smoking-hot body into mine, and her tits crush against my chest. I smile against her mouth as she sighs into mine. Her palm flattens against my body.

And she shoves me.

I have a brief view of her red, furious face before a sharp sting hits my cheek, her hand a beige blur. The slap echoes in the bar, despite the noise and the people everywhere. They turn to look at us, but they hardly give me a second glance. I’ve been slapped before. So what? They always go home with me.

I didn’t even fucking see it coming.

My chest shakes with laughter as she stands frozen with a semi-paralyzed look on her face, and then she turns around and bolts from the bar.

This isn’t over, honey.