Standing beneath a streetlight, I glance around and spot a few bars and restaurants on the block. It's ironic that I'm drawn to the corner pub because it clearly has an Irish theme.
It's perfect, I think. Just another way to tell my dad and Antonio to shove it. Go mingle with the enemy. Although it's not exactly the Irish they hate. It's the Mennetti family. Before I lose my nerve, I cross the street and walk into the bar, It's packed, the music is loud and the crowd is a little older than me. I make my way through the mingling people who are laughing, chatting and hanging out together. I've never had a large group of friends before, only a couple of close ones at school, and I suddenly feel very intimidated. I force myself to sit down on a bar stool, and let out a breath, staring down at the menu. I couldn't eat a bite, I'm so damn nervous. Alcohol, on the other hand, will be perfect for my mood tonight. I order a bottle of Guinness, pay, and begin my search. Now what? I wonder. Do I just pick a cute guy and hit on him? Ugh. I've never done anything like this in my life and it isn't easy. What's the worst that can happen? If he isn't interested, I move on to another man. There has to be a man in here who I'm attracted to and would make a good partner. My gaze wanders from table to table and over all the different groups standing together. A lot of the men seem to be with women and that's not good for me. I take another sip of my beer, feeling defeated. "Hi" a voice says near me and I practically jump out of my seat. Glancing over, I see a guy grinning at me. He has dark red hair, brown eyes that are having a little trouble focusing and my gaze is immediately drawn to the wet spot on his shirt where it looks like he spilled a drink. He wobbles slightly and grabs the back of my chair. He's drunk. Yeah, I may be here looking to pick up a guy, but not one who is so drunk he wouldn't be able to get up, anyway. "Hi," I murmur. "Let me get 'ya anutha drink," he slurs, and leans over me, trying to flag down the bartender. He bumps into me. I grab my glass which nearly spills over. "It's okay," I say and steady the glass. Beer spills over the edge and my fingers get wet. "I'm still drinking this one. But thank — " "Well, ya can't have too many drinks now can 'ya?" he insists, still trying to get the bartender's attention. "I'm actually waiting for someone," I lie and push him over a little with my shoulder. This guy is starting to get on my last nerve. "Why don't I wait with you, darlin'?" The bartender is staying at the other side of the bar, clearly ignoring this drunken fool. I don't blame him. "Asshole," the guy slurs. He throws an arm over my shoulders and asks, "Do you wanna get outta here? Go to another bar?" "No," I grit out and try to shrug his arm off. But he tightens it, fingers digging into my shoulder, and pulls me closer. "Stop! Let go." A deep voice interrupts us. "Sorry to keep you waiting, darling." A big, muscular arm pushes his way in between me and the drunk guy, then a large, firm body follows. I look up into the brightest cobalt blue eyes I've ever seen. Oh, my goodness. After the attractive stranger plants himself next to me, he gives the drunk an icy look that has him backing off. I release a relieved breath and murmur, "Thanks. He was getting way too pushy." "I noticed," the man says dryly. He leans an elbow on the bar and the corner of his mouth edges up. "Glad I could help." He has a nice mouth and lips that aren't too thin or full. His nose is straight and even, cheekbones high and he possesses a pair of thick, dark brows over those blue eyes. With his black hair, it's a truly stunning combination. I think I found the man I'd like to go to bed with. My gaze dips to his left hand and there's no wedding ring. Beautiful. "What's your name, princess?" I'm about to say Trisha but hold myself back last minute. "Tee." "Tee? That's a new one. I'm Gideon." "It's nice to officially meet you," I say, and we shake hands, exchanging another smile. I can't seem to stop smiling and my face is probably going to hurt tomorrow. That's not the only thing that'll be sore if tonight goes as planned, I think wickedly and innocently sip my beer. "So, what do you do?" I ask. He hesitates briefly then says, "I work with my father. Family business. What about you?" He doesn't give me any time to ask further questions about the family business and throws the question right back. "I've been studying abroad and returned a year or so ago. So, I'm still trying to figure out what the future holds." "And what did you study?" "Nothing worthwhile," I answer. My father never wanted me to actually have a profession, but he did allow me to learn. "I just mean, I think my interests changed and now I'm not sure what I want to do." But I definitely know who I want to do it with. Oh, yeah. An image of Blue Eyes-no, Gideon-settling himself between my thighs makes my cheeks flush. "It happens. I've been having some second thoughts about my career, too." "You have?" "Yeah, but let's not talk about work. Tell me about you." "Me? There's not much to tell." "I doubt that," he murmurs. "I'm willing to bet you have a story that's just as beautiful as you." I can feel my cheeks heat up even more. "Aren't you the charmer?" I tease. We're both being a little coy with giving personal details about our lives and I find that interesting. Not alarming, just rather curious. We end up spending the next two hours talking in the dimly lit corner booth and by 11 PM, I've drank and laughed more than I have in years. It occurs to me that it's getting late and it's probably time to go. If Gideon doesn't ask me to go home with him, I'm going to be devastated. "I haven't connected with anyone like this in a long time," he admits, voice low. "Me neither" I say. Then he leans in, and I tilt my head as his mouth descends over mine. His kiss is warm and soft. Just a gentle whisper against mine. But then I open my mouth, granting him access, and his tongue sweeps inside, setting me on fire. Responding back, our fingers lace on the tabletop as we deepen the kiss, tasting and exploring. I've never been kissed like this before or so turned on by a man. When he suddenly pulls back, the loss of his mouth on mine hits me hard and a whimper escapes my throat. We're both breathing hard as we search each other's gazes. "Do you want to leave?" "Yes."After we get our credit cards from the bartender and he pays for everything, ignoring my offer to help, we step outside into the warm night air. It's July and the Midwest air has a humidness to it that matches the wetness currently happening between my thighs."My apartment is on the next block," he says and when I nod, he reaches for my hand. Our fingers lace together and it feels so damn right. Even though this man is still such a mystery to me, I'm so grateful he stepped in earlier and we met. He's kind, a gentleman and I'm dying to get to know him better.More intimately.When we arrive at his place, I'm not sure what to expect, but it's nice. Small, but upscale and, for whatever reason, it doesn't feel very lived in.As if he reads my thoughts, he says, "I've been staying with my family just outside the city, so I haven't been here in a month or so. Sorry about the dust.""It's fine." The place looks immaculate to me. Before I can ask about his family, he flips a lamp on and the
At some point right before dawn, I wake in a strange bed and it takes me a moment to remember where I am and why I'm twisted up in a man's big, warm body. The panic subsides when I remember Gideon and breathe in his clean scent which instantly calms me.I can't believe I went through with it and gave my virginity to a stranger. What's even more unbelievable is the fact that he turned out to be so incredible in every single way. I don't regret a thing, but a panic suddenly flares within me and I need to leave.Somehow, I manage to remove his heavy, muscled limbs without waking him and then I slip out of bed, throw my clothes back on and sneak out of the bedroom on my tiptoes. But right before I walk out, I look back over my shoulder and watch him sleep for a moment. He's lying on his back, arm thrown over his head and his angular face looks almost boyish in repose.The sheet sits low on his hips and I lick my lips, knowing what lies beneath it. I'm sore, but in a delicious sort of way.
I watch my older brother walk away and curse the Mennetti family. They've always caused problems for my father. Our family businesses are in constant competition, but clearly it's become more than that. A power struggle is happening and now people are in danger of getting shot down like in some gangster movie. A chill runs through me as I lift my phone up and pull up a search engine.Until now, the Mennetti family has never really interested me. They were just always the bad guys to avoid and fear. Like the monster under the bed. You never saw it, but you knew it was down there irking, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.I type "Nolan Mennetti, Chicago," into the search bar and a ton of hits pop up. Ignoring the articles, I hit the images button, wanting to see what Nolan Mennetti looks like. Wanting to see the man who's now clinging to life in the hospital and whose family is out for my family's blood.Nolan Mennetti looks to be in his early 50s with a head of thick, dark hair
The biggest mistake of my life was being born a mafia princess.And to Mathias Volkanov.You see, my life was already decided even before I was born. The schools I'd attend, the job opportunities I'd be allowed to pursue as a docile young woman, the man I'd get married to, everything. I wasn't allowed to give an input. None.Ever since I can remember, my father has been the one making both the minor and major decisions regarding my life. Matthias Volkanov might be my father, but he's also the most dangerous man in upstate Venice, Italy. Well, one of the most dangerous. Control fuels him. Control is his armor. And as the reigning Don of the Volkanov Mafia, once he gives an order he expects it to be followed down to the letter, whether they agree with it or not.He cares about no one, but the Volkanov legacy.He has no issues killing anyone who dares to oppose him. Death is the ultimate answer to every opposition, whether small or huge. He rules Italy with an iron fist. In the public e