Reign of Pride Page 9

  A dewy sheen of sweat had graced her sweet skin. “Nero, honey, please.”

  “What do you need, bella?” I’d said hoarsely, as I’d played with her clit while also stroking my cock. Christ, I’d wanted to plunge inside her until she screamed for me to stop from all the orgasms.

  “I need you inside me,” she’d whimpered as I’d continued to enter her with my fingers. She’d moaned, her hips rising to meet my fingers.

  “Tell me to fuck you, dolce,” I’d said.

  “Please,” she’d panted.

  “You know what I need to hear.” I wanted to hear her say it, needed to hear her say it.

  With a groan, she’d cried out, “Fuck me. Please, honey, fuck me.”

  I hadn’t been able to move fast enough; I’d grabbed her hips and slid my cock inside her tight pussy. I’d heard her gasp, then I’d locked our fingers together as I’d thrusted like a madman. She’d clenched my cock with her inner muscles, and I’d known she’d been right on the verge.

  “Open your eyes!” I cried out.

  She opened her eyes and our gazes had locked as she’d dived over the edge to find her sweet oblivion. I’d continued to plunge inside her, looking for my own release, when I’d felt Felicia tightening her legs around me,

  “I’m going to…” she’d panted, her head thrashing, her thighs tight and tense once again.

  “Let go, baby, come for me again,” I urged.

  “I can’t,” she’d moaned.

  I’d flicked her clit one more time, and she’d unravelled in my arms once more. It’d been just the thing I’d needed to be able to join her for the orgasmic ride. It’d been perfect. Felicia had been perfect for me.

  Is perfect for me. The temptation is too great to linger in bed.

  I have to pull myself together and get the hell down to the warehouse. I need to find out how they got in. The Russians are getting bolder with each attack. They think they’re going to take my territory from me but that is not going to happen. I finish up and get dressed, refusing to look at my bed since the temptation to crawl back in is too much.

  I call Livio and Dario, letting them know I want them in the house when I am gone and they’re at the door as I leave. “She has her routine for the day. No deviations. Something isn’t right. I can feel it.”

  I tell them. Dario glances at the stairwell. “You think they are after her?”

  “I don’t think we take chances with the people in La Famiglia. As it is, some have already been killed in our own warehouse, so the Russians are going to pay dearly for it.” I growl as I make my way to the car where Luciano, my best friend and right-hand man since we were ten years old, awaits.

  Luciano is quiet, not his usual self. I do not push.

  The streets are almost empty. Darkness coats the city as we ride through into the industrial district, away from residential areas and prying eyes. Not that it would matter; we have a lock on all the major players in town: police, politicians, judges… They all know who really runs this city.

  We drive up to the main entrance that is riddled with bullet holes. Two of our sentries are dead. The warehouse is situated where they can see all oncoming areas so the fact that they were ambushed doesn’t make sense.

  Luciano takes my back as I meet with two of our soldiers, each taking a side. I walk past the sentry guards, their guns still holstered. Whoever did this, they’d known how to get the drop on our guys. The guys knew their attacker, that would be the only reason these men would not have had their guns out.

  That did not sit well with me. It meant someone gave them information. Our information.

  We have a traitor in our midst. Some we trust is killing our men. Shit! Fuck!

  “Those are our men, cover them and take them off the floor.” Our soldiers are honored in death as they are when they are with us.

  At first glance, I see that the traitors have taken out the workers easily. They wouldn’t be armed, easy pickings. These inside men had fought back. Three more taken out inside, they told me on the phone. I walk closer to their bodies. Two are on the floor, face-down. One is slouched against the wall. I know all my men, and the one against the wall is Corrado, the son of one of our underbosses. He was in his early thirties with a wife and little one at home.

  I bend down on one knee and see his finger move—barely, but it does. I quickly check his pulse. He’s hanging by a thread. “He’s alive!” I shout and am instantly crowded by my men. “Call our doctor?” I ask as I inspect his wound. One bullet in the gut the other in the shoulder. It’s severe, and he might be bleeding internally, but we have to try to save him.

  “He’ll never make it in time.”

  “Get him on the phone and tell him to get his ass here or he will be joining them,” I command. I place my jacket behind Corrado’s head. “Luciano, place your hands here and don’t move them,” I direct in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

  Corrado moans. His lips moving but his voice is inaudible.

  “Don’t talk. We’re getting help.” I bend down to his ear so that only he can hear me. “Marina and Ella are waiting for you at home, so you fight, man.”

  At this, his eyes flutter open. Once again, he opens his mouth to speak. This time I hear him.

  One phrase, but it says so much.

  “Rat in our house,” Corrado breathes out painfully.

  In that moment, Dr. Ricci rushes in. He asks Luciano to keep his hands in place and he cuts into Corrado’s skin to inspect the damage. “I can stop the bleed temporarily until I get him on a table. We have about half an hour before he gives out.”

  Luciano and I carry Corrado out to the doctor’s makeshift hospital van and watch as he connects fluids and IV. I tell Luciano to drive. He’s faster and I want the doctor in the back with Corrado. I have lost four men; I am determined to not lose another without a fight.

  * * *

  Hours later, Corrado is recovering from the surgery in Dr. Ricci’s clinic. Best investment we made when we brought him on as the Famiglia’s personal medic.

  Corrado will be out of commission for a while, so we won’t know if he knows who the rat is until he’s able to speak. I have to ensure that he gets that chance because if anyone on the Russian side finds out he survived; they’ll make sure he doesn’t a second time.

  My first call is to the men onsite and tell them to speak to no one, and I mean no one, until they hear from me. They are to be at my father’s home by ten this morning and we will take the next steps. I call my father next and explain the situation. He agrees that silence is imperative. I ask that we pick up Corrado’s wife and daughter and have them brought to us where we can brief them. They will agree to what we ask of them. Our women, as well as our men, are loyal. All but one apparently, the rat that exists among us.

  I leave Luciano with the doc and head over to my father’s house. I greet my mother as I make my way through the hall and kiss her on the cheek.

  “It’s so good to see you, Nero. Grazia is out shopping with Felicia today. I am so pleased that the girls get along, don’t you think?” she asks.

  “Absolutely, Mom.” I pull away gently, “We’ll make plans to have dinner next week.” This will appease her for the moment because I know she’s dying to see her son settled down as a married man. But, now, I need to get to my father’s den to discuss this problem without upsetting my mother. Father is protective of her, so he keeps business matters away from her whenever possible. The attack on Felicia created a great deal of trauma for my mother. We have been attacked for years but each time it hits our family directly, it rips my mother’s heart to shreds.

  My father sits behind his huge mahogany desk. Around the room are the men from the warehouse. Marina and Ella are on the sofa, Ella clinging to her mother, her face hidden in her mother’s chest. Marina looks bewildered. I look back at my father and see his silent meaning. Father hasn’t told them anything about Corrado’s condition yet. He’s probably waiting to see if there’s any change in before saying a
nything.

  I nod in assent, signally that Corrado is stable for the moment. He rounds the desk then sits in the armchair across from Marina.

  “Corrado and a few others were attacked at one of the warehouses this morning. Your husband is the only one who survived.”

  Tears begin streaming down her cheeks as she hugs her daughter, which sets Ella off as well.

  “He’s in good hands, Marina. I’ve made sure of it. He fought valiantly and he is fighting now so he can come home to you and Ella. But here’s the issue: Corrado is the only one who can tell us who attacked him, and we know La Famiglia has a traitor. We want to keep Corrado hidden. Pretend he died so we can protect him and find out what he knows. To do that, we need you to play the grief-stricken widow. Once we have a pretend funeral, we’ll take you to him and you can stay in hiding until we figure this out, giving him time to heal while you’re together as a family.”

  I call the others over to explain what’s going on. “This man fought for our family. The only people who know he is still alive are in this room. If any word gets out about this, his tongue will be severed by me and me alone. Then Father and I will set the rest of the family loose on them to punish them as they see fit.”

  The four men in this room are men I have chosen. We have trained, fought, and worked together since the time I have been inducted. I am certain of their loyalty. However, I take no chances. We leave no room for error. We prepare for the funerals of our men, adding an extra coffin and body. My men all understand their roles in this plot. Father takes over and I work through the details of the safehouse.

  Chapter Twelve

  Girls Solidarity

  Felicia

  * * *

  I was worried about Nero and almost cancelled my day with Grazia. I was glad to get a call letting me know that he was fine. If he were to come home for a while, I would gladly hang back and wait to spend time with him. An early call at two in the morning could not have been anything good. Nero was the one that told me to go on with my day as planned.

  “I just wanted to let you know that I am fine, Felicia. I want you to go and have a good day.”

  My feet are killing me. These cute, peep-toe, purple heels were comfortable for about an hour, but they look amazing with the royal purple-and-cream dress I’m wearing. I’d loved it when I bought it but had never had the opportunity to wear it. I’d decided that shopping and lunch with Grazia was a good reason to pull it out. It’s a knee-length, floral print, with a flirty skirt. It’s light and cute. I’ve taken Nero’s words seriously and dressed as a Moretti should.

  When we’d picked up Grazia, I was so happy to have someone to talk to. She is so adorable and dresses so elegantly. Her caramel pencil skirt and turquoise blouse with thin belt look amazing on her. She is way ahead of me in smarts, deciding to wear low, kitten heels. An obvious better choice, as she is running along the aisle of the department store, whereas, I want to rip off the shoes and go barefoot.

  Grazia is an amazing help in picking out the necessities in the kitchen. She convinces me to pick out two sets of dishes. One set, a very expensive, classic design for guests, and a more modern and fun design for everyday use. It’s great to have another opinion and it makes the task go by so much faster.

  Hours—and thousands of dollars—later, we finally have linen, blankets, towels, tablecloths, cutlery, and so much more.

  “Where do you want to have lunch?” I ask as we make our way back to the car with Livio ahead of us and Dario behind us. I am sure Grazia’s guard is close by as well.

  “I’m not picky.” She dips her ear to her shoulder with a smile.

  “Oh please. Don’t make me make one more decision,” I say, laughing.

  Grazia joins in with a contagious giggle.

  “Okay, Okay. Do you like sushi?”

  “I don’t know; I’ve never tried it.”

  “Let’s head over to Sushi Q. Their stuff is always fresh, and I love their sweet dumplings. They have a variety of dishes if the sushi isn’t to your liking.”

  My phone dings, revealing a text from Olivia. She’s missing me and wants to catch up.

  “Olivia is feeling lonely. Do you mind if I invite her along to lunch?” I ask.

  “Of course not,” Grazia replies.

  “Great. Two friends for lunch. I’m a lucky girl today.” I text Olivia back, asking her to join us. She replies with a bunch of happy emojis.

  We are having an awesome lunch. I really like sushi, well, the cooked-fish kind, not the raw. But still, it’s interesting to try it. I really enjoy Olivia and Grazia’s company. Olivia and I have a history together. We have similar likes and dislikes and are comfortable being ourselves with each other. Grazia is so sweet and has the most contagious giggle, when we can get her to laugh, that is.

  “I don’t want this day to end. I am having so much fun being with you girls today,” Olivia states with a pout, knowing that our time is coming to an end and I have to be home for more deliveries this afternoon and I want to make dinner for us tonight.

  “I know. It’s good to spend time with you again, Olivia. It feels odd not seeing you everyday, like we are used to,” I tell her. I turn to Grazia and say, “Thank you for having pity on me and being a great friend, Grazia. It means so much to me that you are taking time to get to know me.”

  I must have hit a chord as I see tears form in her eyes. She twists away from me, and I can see her lower lip quiver. I hope I haven’t offended her by implying that she hasn’t been kind to me in the past.

  “I’m sorry if I said something wrong.” I place my hand on her wrist. She turns my way with a single tear on her cheek.

  “You really like me,” she says quietly. Not a question, just a statement, but said in a manner that tells me that she is stunned that I do.

  “Well, of course I do,” I verify.

  “Because I’m Nero’s sister and your sister-in-law?” she asks tentatively.

  Grazia had a difficult time in school because everyone knew who her father was, and there was always the risk that, by friending her, they were either trying to climb the ladder in La Famiglia or using her to get to her brother.

  “I like you because you have been so sweet and inviting. Because you laugh at my silliness and don’t give me crap about kicking these dang heels off under the table. Although, I have no idea how I’m going to get my sausage toes back into them. I like you for you and am so glad to have you in my life.”

  “I don’t know you very well yet, Grazia,” says Olivia, “but I certainly hope I get to see you more. I love that you are just as you are. You arranged the perfect birthday for Felicia at the spa because you cared enough to make that happen. You’re a friend I want to have.” She takes her other hand.

  I recognize her plight. As a matter of fact, I am starting to go through it myself, with the countless of lunch invitations from people I barely know. “I hope you consider us friends, Grazia. I know with your family and position it makes it hard to distinguish those who are from those who pretend to be.”

  “You two are so great together as friends and I would love to be part of that. Let me just say that I’m not good at letting people in. I haven’t really had friends and I am not sure I know how to be a good one.” Grazia drops her eyes.

  “I’ll teach you the ropes,” Olivia injects, as she typically does.

  I laugh at her exuberance, followed by Olivia and, finally, Grazia’s laughter.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ashes To Ashes

  Nero

  * * *

  The wet, cold drizzling rain matches the mood of the moment. We are laying our dead soldiers to rest, three with our men and one with a corpse donated by the morgue. Marina plays the grieving widow perfectly. In some sense, I believe she is grieving. Grieving the distance from her husband and grieving the indignation of knowing someone left her husband for dead. The other widows weep openly, clinging to their children. The boys, our future soldiers, stand tall, holding in their rag
e. I can see it, though, and know how it feels, pouring through their veins because I have felt the same, the day my grandfather had been gunned down by the Russian scum at his favorite restaurant. He and his consigliere, both there to celebrate an alliance with one of the other families. An infiltrator, dressed as a waiter, had walked right up to them and shot them at point-blank range. Then, before anyone could retaliate, he’d turned the gun on himself. It was not until weeks later, that we’d found the true culprits and they’d been tortured mercilessly. I’d felt nothing. No regrets.

  The one and only mistake my father made as the head of La Famiglia was to blame the Viale Don without investigating. This had severed the pact, causing more problems in an already problematic situation. Dad had paid for that mistake. Our goods and products were never again allowed to be transported through their territory. It costs us a fortunate to bring it in, though, that being said, we aren’t hurting for money. We have established other means of commerce, but it would be nice to have options.

  Rocco’s young son, Daniele, probably around eleven years old, makes eye contact with me. The loss of his father is hitting him hard. I see the anger, the despair of not having a father to see him through our initiation. I give him a curt nod, letting him know that he is not alone. I see his acknowledgement, then he wraps an arm around his mother. He is now the man of that household. I make note to ensure that each of these young men has a mentor. I will take on Daniele.

  Underbosses, their wives, and families, all attend. My father is at the front, my mother, and Grazia next to him, I’m on his right with Felicia by my side. Her arm links with mine. I came home that night to tell her to prepare for a funeral. I explained that we lost four men and we will be honoring their lives, all at one gathering. Felicia knows not to ask any further questions. She has been to funerals before. This isn’t the first time we have lost men to the battle in our streets, only, this time, she stands by my side instead of her father’s. She is weeping quietly, wearing a simple back dress with black wedge boots. She knows these men, as her father was their leader. Mario has always treated his men well and Felicia would have seen them around their home. I see that Mario is angry. His hands are fisted tight and his jaw is clenched. He doesn’t know that revenge will be with someone close to us, right here in our midst. I know that he is here today. The rat among us would not risk it by being absent, it would shed more of a clue to who he is, if he doesn’t attend today. He will follow the traditions of our family. I glance around inconspicuously, searching for any telltale signs.