I feel closer to Dani than I have to any other woman in my entire life. Or any other person, really. Two nights ago, when I took her to the race track, we drove like demons. Out of the infinite kindness of my heart, I let her win.
The next morning, she made me her slave, but each order was something I wanted to do. Lick that whipped cream off her nipples? Eat her pussy until she came all over my tongue? Fuck her until the edge of my pleasure, pause, and then fuck her again? Yes, yes, fucking yes.
But I have seen the difference in the way she looks at me in the days since, like she feels guilty for what we’re doing. Because she knows who I am. Not all the details, of course. But enough.
Enough to hate the man I am.
Giuseppe nods at me from the passenger seat. “You good, boss?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “Where the fuck is Levi?”
“Dunno,” Giuseppe mutters. “I’ve called. No answer. Heard he was partying pretty hard last night, though.”
“This is fucking unacceptable.”
Giuseppe nods. “We can wait, boss. Or call someone else.”
“Felice would’ve been here early,” I snarl. “With a fire in his belly for what those Albanian bastards did to our stash house in Queens. You know we had women working there, right?”
“I know, boss. Shall I call up some troops?”
“No. And you stay in the car, too. I’ll handle this myself.”
I step from the car, thinking about the look on Felice’s mother’s face when I saw her in the hospital after we got the news. The Albanians get out of their car when they see us approaching. Their leader steps forward, a wide-shouldered man wearing a leather with heavy military boots. He’s got a jagged scar all the way from his chin to his forehead, dividing his face into two. His two goons hover just behind, hands near their hips.
“Are you lost, son?”
My answer is whip-quick. “On the contrary, I’m exactly where I need to be.”
“Angelo fucking De MaggioDe Maggio,” he scowls. “Why are you here?” He growls something in Albanian and his goons laugh. Then he smiles at me. “You have a death wish, eh?”
I step forward, and again, and again, until I’m right in his face. “This corner is mine now,” I tell him. “You work for me. You’re going to be selling King Kong. Do you understand?”
I can see the fear in his eyes. But he doesn’t take a step back. “Are you crazy?” he laughs shakily. “We don’t want any of that Italian shit.”
“This corner is ours,” I repeat slowly, as though to an idiot. “Your men work for me now.”
He laughs again. “You’ve had your fun, Italian. Now get the fuck out of here before I teach you a lesson.”
I take another step forward. I’m so close to him now that our noses are almost touching. I feel my body trembling as I hear Felice’s mother’s tears rocking around my head, as I think about the women in that stash house in Queens. “Teach me,” I whisper threateningly. “You son of a fucking bitch, teach me a lesson.”
“Handikapat!” he roars, swinging on me.
I don’t even try to dodge his first two punches. I roll with them, left and right, tasting my blood and savoring it. The Albanian’s technique is sloppy and he’s already breathing hard.
I slip the next hook, moving just enough, and then counter with a savage jab to the nose. I feel his nose crunch and then blood leaks down his front. He yells, kicking wildly. I catch his knee and duck under, wrapping my arms around his body and lifting him over my head. He flails and makes panicked noises as I dump him hard onto the concrete. Then I fall on him, pinning his arms with my knees, unloading brutal hooks to his face.
He frees an arm and slides a gun from his jeans, making as if to shoot me in the abdomen. My response is immediate, instinctual: I grab his wrist and wrench it upward so it snaps. He screams and drops the gun. His broken hand hangs limply.
“Are you done, stronzo?”
He opens and closes his mouth slowly, blood dripping. I stand up and turn to his men as he lies there pitifully.
“What about you men?” I bark. “Will you distribute my product … or do you want to teach me a lesson, too?”
The men exchange glances, clearly terrified. “We will do your work,” one of them mutters, shifting from foot to foot