Chapter Three

LORENZO

“Guess she really wasn't a stripper Boss,” Alejandro, one of my men, said as I slipped back into the VIP booth. They all had amusement scrawled all over their faces. Clearly they had enjoyed the spectacle I had caused with the vixen.

The blonde-haired vixen.

I settled into my seat, rubbing my jaw as I watched her serve drinks to other customers. I had no idea why she enthralled me. When she had brought our drinks earlier, dressed sexy in that fucking short dress, the first thought I had was to bury my face in those pert breasts. They looked perky in her dress, bouncing slightly when she moved with rigor.

I was not made of fucking wood. Of course, I got attracted. We'd just rounded up a damned case of greedy bastards on her trail in the past few days. I hadn't had a willing woman to slake my lust on in almost a week, and she had presented herself.

Stripper or not, she was a woman and all women had their prices.

Except her, it would seem. She hadn't considered my offer at all. Not even when I slapped a thousand dollars on those pretty boobs. I wanted them to be mine. To belong to me only.

A low growl resounded in my throat as I watched her bend over the counter to retrieve something. She had the perfect ass too. I'd love to tie her up and bury my face right in that peach shaped booty.

Judging from the way her eyes flashed in anger at me, I was fairly certain she would hack off my head if I tried to. And that fucking pleased me. She was the first woman to look me right in the eye and defy me. Hell, there wasn't even an ounce of fear in her eyes. All the women I had met were terrified of me.

But not her.

“Oh oh, see that look on the boss's face?” Alejandro quipped again, his head lolling from side to side. “He's getting some ideas-”

In a blink, I reached for his neck, pressing lightly on the jugular vein. “What did I tell you about calling me boss in public?”

Alejandro sputtered, pulling at the hand I had wrapped around his throat. He coughed and choked, and I narrowed my eyes at him, pressing a little harder on his neck.

“Wrong answer,”

“Your name,” He gasped, and I let him go. He coughed over and over, beating his chest to calm down.

“And what the hell is my name?”

“Lorenzo,” My men chorused, and I tipped my head in a nod. Fuck, I missed Vincent. He was my best buddy, and would certainly know how to handle Alejandro. But someone had to run things in Italy in the absence or shit would go down.

“Right Here, right now, I'm Lorenzo, got it?”

Marco grunted, Alejandro made a small whining sound in his throat like a wounded puppy and I fixed him a glare, while Martino gave a curt nod. They were men that I held closer to me than the rest of the mafia.

Men I trusted.

Well, perhaps except Alejandro. He was skillful with a rifle, but he was such a blabbermouth.

I reached for my brandy and chugged down whatever was left. The urge to raise my hands to order another was strong. But I had a lot of shit to do, and I couldn't do them properly with the alcohol messing with my brain.

The door to the club was thrown open and the man we had been waiting for had arrived. Some fucker named Tony who thought he could boss us around all fucking day. I wanted to beat the shit out of him or at least put a bullet in his head, but he had a whole shipment of smuggled berries at his disposal.

I couldn't get rid of him until I got my hands on them.

“He's here,” Martino announced, rising to his feet.

I nodded and stood up, pinning Alejandro with a glare. “Marco and Martino come with me. We'll interrogate Tony.”

“Aww come on Lorenzo,” The man who whined like a child was a three hundred pound, twenty five-year-old. If Alejandro wasn't quite skillful, I was sure he wouldn't last a week in the mafia house. “I want to be interrogated too. I've been reading these books on torture-”

“I need you to do something else,”

He shut up at that, a sober look on his face, and I continued. “Find out everything you can about that waitress.”

His sober face broke into a grin. Dumbass couldn't stay serious for a damn minute.

“The woman who sucker punched you?”He teased, and I narrowed my eyes into slits. .

“Speak a word of this to anyone, and the last sunrise you'll see will be that of yesterday.”

He chuckled, clearly immune to my threats, and mimicked zipping his mouth close. Satisfied, I gestured at Marco and Martino and we shuffled out of the booth towards Tony himself. He sat on one of the sofas in the club, smoking a cigarette when we approached him.

“You might want to step away,” He grunted, without looking up. “You're blocking the light,”

“Right, you might want to take a good look at it,” I nodded, stepping aside. “It will be the last thing you see, If you do not cooperate.”

Tony's head whipped up quickly. He took in our faces, and his already white face seemed to whiten even further. “Who are you? Who sent you?!”

I grabbed the cigarette between his fingers, stubbed it on the table and gave him a small smile. “We're from Hell.”

*****

Tony's body collapsed to the ground, unconscious and bloody. I had to give it to him, for a Yankee, he was a tough nut to crack. His interrogation had taken all morning. It was some minutes past five, and soon it would be daybreak.

“Marco, get rid of his body,” I instructed. “Martino, go to the address he mentioned. Take a few men. I want the shipment transported back to base and ready to sail for Italy.”

“Yes boss,” They nodded and went off to perform their tasks. I walked to the sink in the interrogation room and washed my hands clean.

“Lorenzo,” Alejandro called, barging into the room like the dumbass he was. “I found out a little about your waitress,”

“Speak,” I ordered, reaching for a towel on the stand to dry my hand.

“Her name is Natasha Davies. She lives alone but has a sister somewhere, and her shift ends at six this morning.”

Perfect. She would be done with work soon.

“Well done,” I murmured and walked out of the room.

I drove back to the club, waiting in my car patiently, my eyes fixed on my wristwatch. I wanted to see her again. That cute stubborn nose turned up in anger. Or those pretty blue eyes. Her lips were the sort that could kill a man. A full bow, plump enough to make me want to lick it, to tease it with my tongue.

I liked her defiant spirit. I wanted to break it. It would be so much fun to drop those arrogant shoulders and make her beg me to fuck her. My pants tightened at the thought, and I dragged a hand down my face, trying to breathe easy.

At exactly six, I stepped out of the car and approached the door to the club, waiting patiently for her to leave. Five minutes later, the door to the club opened and out came my vixen. She no longer had her sexy dress on but had changed into a jeans and a top that teased draped softly against her skin.

Without thinking, I pulled her by the waist and pinned her against the wall.

“Hello Natasha,”

Those blue eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed into slits. “How on earth did you know my name? Get the fuck away from me.”

“You see,” I whispered, leaning closer to her face. I could feel her warm breathing pick up the pace. And her scent, fuckkk. I loved it. It was soft and feminine despite her defiant character. “I find that I cannot do that.”

“Try fucking harder!” She hissed, ducked beneath my arms and tried to slip away. My hand caught her by the hair, wrapping them around my fist.

“Ow!” She gasped.

I chuckled and pulled her closer, turning her back to me. My hands still holding her hair tight, I slid my nose down her nape, growling at her maddening scent. A soft sigh slipped from her lips, and my vixen arched her back, leaning further into my touch.

“Let go,” She protested weakly.

“The last thing I want to do is Let go,” I growled, running my fingers down her spine and then grabbed her ass through the jeans. “I'll have fun breaking that stubborn spirit of yours, won't I? I'll bet if you're all tied up in my bed, that pussy all open for me to see, you wouldn't be so tough then, will you? I'll bet you taste sweeter after each struggle. I'm going to make you scream my name until all you can think about is me, buried balls deep in you.”

“You're crazy if you think that's happening!” She hissed and I chuckled.

“I know it is happening, Natasha,” I replied. “I will make you submit to me.”

Her breathing grew erratic. She moaned, a fucking sexy sound that went straight to the tent in my pants. She shook her head as my hands traveled up her curvy body to grab a breast. Her nipple poked eagerly through the top, hard and aching. I wanted to give her relief. I wanted, so, fucking badly to rip that top open and see what color they were.

And just when I thought I had her, she broke away from my hold, landed a blow on

my stomach and made sure to flip me the middle finger before stomping off.

I grinned, watching her go. It would seem my stay in New York would be extended by a few more days.