The Power of a Woman: A Mafia Erotic Romance (16 page)

“Ahem,” My brother’s telltale gruff voice alerted me of his arrival. “Still get off on scaring the innocent, Jordana?” he asked before lifting his own glass. Matteo was the only seventeen-year-old I knew that could walk into a swanky place and order an alcoholic beverage and not be questioned about his age.

“Go fuck yourself, asshole. Besides, it’s Carmine’s place, and that little horny nymph grates on my last nerve. There’s something about him that makes me want to hurt him,” I said, as I tried like hell to play it off. I couldn’t very well tell my brother that I’d been the one scared in that situation.

Carmine’s was a family-style restaurant, and I don’t mean “family” as in large food portions. It was family as in…we belonged to the same family—mob. It wasn’t a blood thing, it was an organization thing.

The macho men in the corner were in the middle of a card game—more than likely poker. They looked up from their cards and acknowledged our presence with a deep nod. We needed some privacy, away from eyes and ears where I wouldn’t have to watch what I say. If Matty knew others were paying attention, he’d dismiss anything I had to say to avoid the ridicule of having his sister lecture him. “Let’s sit in
that
booth,” I said and gestured to the open booth in the far corner. I slipped into the leather-tufted bench without spilling my drink.

Matty followed suit and sat opposite me. His six-foot two-inch, wide-shouldered body proved almost too big for the booth. His skin tone was the same as mine—olive. However, his shaggy brown hair and butterscotch eyes with the slightest hint of red flecks were the envy of many…including myself. His body was lean, powerful, and almost hard to believe he was a seventeen-year-old high school senior. He sported a tattoo that my father had nearly killed him over. However, his explanation had me biting the inside of my cheek in laughter. The archangel Michael sat high on his shoulder. I had to admit it was a beautiful piece done in monochromatic black and greys. Michael held a sword in one hand…while his foot sat on the head of Lucifer, pushing him back into the flames of hell. Archangel Michael reigns as the leader of all God’s holy angels and often engages in battle with the fallen angel, Lucifer. It was a symbol of the good versus evil complex my brother dealt with daily. So his excuse for getting that particular tattoo made perfect sense to my father. After my brother’s explanation, my father’s eyes held tears of pride. I shook my head. For such a wise man, my father was blind when it came to Matty. However, my eyes were wide open. For a young man, he was headed down a dangerous path of gambling, womanizing, and alcohol. If he didn’t straighten out soon,
he’d
be the fallen angel.

“So…” he said, folding his hands on the table. He quirked his infamous crooked smile at me that was uniquely Matty.

I nearly chewed the inside of my cheek off to curb my temper. “Do you have any idea the shit you’ve caused? Like any fucking clue at all?” I blew out heatedly, but didn’t stop there. My fists curled and itched to smack his continued smile off his face. “You lack any kind of moral code, family code, or any other fucking code there is.” His fingers drummed lazily across the tabletop and I lost it. “You have no idea what position you put this family in, and the chain of events your deviant, pussy-warped, gambling man-boy attitude set off, do you?” I pounded the table just as the waitress skirted over.

“I’m Sia, your waitress. Can I take your order?” she greeted in a familiar tone, completely ignoring the mood she’d interrupted. She probably had no clue of the situation she’d just walked into, because she never took her eyes off Matty.

“I’m ravenous,” Matty answered in a deep tone. “Is there any specials tonight?”

Her matte red lips curved into a devilish smile and her teeth all but glowed in the dimmed lighting. “We have your favorite grilled polenta,” she answered with a wink. “Why don’t we start with some apps and drinks?” Her flirty smile and whorish attitude lit the fire to my irritation.

“Cool.” My brother played right into it, which only caused me to turn to him with the same pissed-off, crooked eyebrow as I’d given her.

Then she directed her white teeth and tart lips my way as if just noticing me for the first time. “Anything for you?”

What fucking nerve. “Yeah, I’ll start with a menu and another one of these.” I drained the rest of my martini and slammed it on the table, never taking my hatred stare away from her. Then I added my signature “go fuck yourself” smile. The harlot’s face paled, and now Bo-Peeps eyes glistened. However, there was something stirring behind them…dare I say, humiliation? “That’s all,” I added and met Matty’s eyes squarely.

His gaze narrowed before readdressing Mia….or was it Sia? “Thank you, Sia.”

I rolled my eyes, as she turned on her heel, heading to the bar. Good.

My shrill laugh garnered a nasty look from another waitress who headed Sia’s way. My brother was a class A shit. It’s obvious that his brain was not his primary organ and he was clearly not as cerebral as he’d like us all to think. School was more of a means to gain pussy, and his dick was leading the charge. Just thinking about his reckless actions had me steaming. I shook my head furiously, my outrage over his callousness growing by the minute. “You’re going to get us all killed with that dick of yours.”

He calmly folded his hands before addressing me. “What the fuck are you going on about? Stefan handled it. It’s done. In the past. So let’s just move on from it already. Are you looking for an apology?” He raised a questioning eye. “I’m sorry, Jordana. There…I’ve said it. Now you can step off your soapbox and shut the hell up.”

“You’ve got some fucking nerve.” I leaned closer to him. I felt my blood pressure raising and knew without a doubt I was two seconds away from losing my shit. “You’ve been a selfish prick since birth. It’s always been about you! When are you going to think about the family? When are you going to think before you do something reckless and stupid?” My voice remained deadly calm, but I shook with rage. He hadn’t a clue what I went through, and I couldn’t lay that shit on him. I wanted to, believe me. I wanted to rail and kick his naïve fucking ass. Tell him all the sorted details of Scarface and what followed. However, I couldn’t. I promised Stefan, and besides…it was my cross to bear.
Our
cross to bear. My emotional well-being was as disfigured as Zeke’s face, and I still found myself suffering from the weakness it all caused. I was emotionally bruised, and it fucking bothered me how long it was taking to get over it.
Fuck
.

Matteo sat motionless for a moment, giving away nothing as to what went through his thoughts. Silence. Then he grabbed my hand, holding it on top of the table. “I get that the reality of the situation was unpleasant. I can’t imagine what happened and was told not to ask.” He squeezed my hand and something past between us. Sympathy? Empathy? Maybe even regret?

My head fell almost in shame to avoid his pressing eyes. He wanted to know, but wasn’t asking, rather waiting for me to share on my own, which wouldn’t happen.
Couldn’t
happen. Even if Stefan hadn’t been involved, what I went through wasn’t something I could ever open up to my little brother about. However, had he known about the gory details, I’m sure he’d take his actions a little more seriously next time.

“I was scared, sis. I lied. And that was wrong. I thought I could handle it myself. I wound up throwing a match on a powder keg. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but I’m going to show you. Actions…right?” He brought my hand to his lips. “As your brother, I should be protecting you, not the other way around. Believe me, I’ve beaten myself up about it. Your boyfriend did an ample job of making me feel lower than whale shit on the bottom of the ocean. He’s one intense fucker.”

Intense
—that was one way to put it. My heart picked up speed in my chest, thumping heavily against my ribcage. My boyfriend? Surely he didn’t mean Stefan. No one could know.
No one
. “What do you mean?”

He smiled tightly and I took a deep breath. “He threatened me. Said if I did anything stupid enough to put
you
in danger ever again…he’d kill me himself. And something about being expendable.”

My tongue was slow to respond to this latest development. I reached for my now empty glass while getting my thoughts together. I needed my drink. Where the fuck was Mia—fuck—Sia. My response needed to be clear and concise. Was I surprised Stefan threatened Matty? Fuck no! But I was shocked he hadn’t beaten the shit out of him already. However, what truly shocked me was Matty’s knowledge of our relationship. My brother wasn’t necessarily dumb in everything. He could’ve put two and two together, but considering how careful Stefan and I were, Matty wouldn’t have had anything to go on in order to make that conclusion.

My head spun. And to top it off, I felt like a hypocrite. Here I was, giving him shit, and rightfully so. But I couldn’t help feeling like a bad person. I’ve done bad things. Really bad things. In some eyes…unforgivable. Murdered in the name of family—and not just anyone, but an underboss…a made man. There are more people in my encompassing world that wouldn’t forgive me for my actions than those who would. I was a woman, and more than that, it was not my place to take action against anyone in the family. That was unforgivable, no matter what had transpired before.

Stefan and I were soldiers to our cause. The same way Hitler viewed himself as being right or just in his. Did it make it okay, though? To them, maybe. But to everyone else, hell no. I was a monster in that right. I took pleasure in Scarface’s painful death the same way Charles Manson or the Son of Sam did. We were a family of victims, a group of monsters, to our just causes. Right or wrong, there was no going back. No matter how it was viewed by others, there was no changing time. Not that I would. I’d never, no matter what punishment could come my way, erase what I’d done to that filthy fucking monster. His title and role in this family didn’t mean shit to me. All he was in my eyes was a pathetic excuse of a man—a
dead
, pathetic excuse.

“Jordana?” My brother’s harsh voice snapped my attention like a whip.

“I’m not sure I follow. Stefan isn’t my boyfriend.” That hadn’t been a lie. We’d never discussed labels or what to call each other. I was his, and as far as I was concerned, he was mine. But Matty didn’t need to know the logistics of it.

He laughed and rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat. “For the same reasons you won’t tell me what you know, I won’t tell you what I know. But don’t underestimate me. Don’t for one second think I am an ignorant kid that has no clue what goes on around me.”

Giving in, refusing to continue our sticky conversation, I said, “I’m not going to apologize for Stefan. He saved your life and our family. You have good reason to be scared, too. You’re a fucking idiot. Maybe take some of that fear and use it to keep yourself straight. Can’t you be like a regular kid? Join football or basketball to earn your letterman’s jacket and stay the fuck out of the casinos. Stick to chasing girls your age. Can you do that? Be a normal kid your age?” I exhaled loudly. God damn, I needed alcohol.

He laughed sarcastically. “We grew up in a house where our father cleans his gun at the dinner table, Jordana. We’ve lived our whole lives with soldiers fucking following us with guns in their waistbands, while others are making sure we make it to our cars safely. This is
our
normal…or haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“We don’t choose
our
family, Matty. There’s no goddamn handbook for this. This isn’t some cautionary fairy tale. It’s motherfucking reality. We just live it and try to survive it. Doesn’t mean we can’t be as normal as possible. Doesn’t mean we can’t have the same things as normal people. It’s all in what you make of it. If you want to focus on the business end of it all, then so be it. But that’ll only get you killed.” I broke eye contact, ending the conversation and waved over Gio, the maître d’.

“Ciao. Si Può mettere una corsa sul nostro cibo. Siamo affamate Gio. Grazie,” I said, asking if we could have a rush on our food because we were starved. I was hungry, but that wasn’t the reason I had in mind for the hurry.

Gio had dark olive skin, and his intense eyes appeared blacker in the dim lighting. He was a thin, older man—loyal and from the old country. His maître d’ skills were legendary, and he prided himself on taking care of his customers. It was a given that he was well compensated for it.

“Ma certamente. Vedrò di me stesso. Le vostre bevande stanno arrivando finita. Le mie scuse signorina Albanese.”
Oh, good…our drinks were on the way
. His voice was terse, despite his smile. There was a mutual respect for who I was and the family I belonged to. However, Matty’s actions carried some ill weight, and certain people weren’t happy about the resolution of his debt.

The door swung open and a gust of familiar cologne hit me square between the thighs. I didn’t have to look to see who’d walked in. My body already knew and my skin puckered clear down to my toes. Stefan. He walked in with his father and two of his capos. The girl in me wanted to run to him. However, the good Mafia princess knew it wasn’t possible. A female has to wait to be called over or be approached, but considering our families, I knew neither would happen. His father hated mine. His entire family hated mine. They’d deemed us backstabbing pricks after Stefan’s older brother had been hit. It was a tragedy, one felt within my own family, but that didn’t matter. Mick pointed his meaty finger at my father, and that was the end of it.

“You want me to go over there, J?” My brother’s tone comforted me. However, this was another impossibility. After the shit he just pulled, the last gesture warranted would be him approaching that table. They’d see it as him rubbing their noses in it, which was beyond disrespectful.

“Yeah right! Why don’t you go over there and throw your balls up on the table. That way, it’ll be nice and easy for Mick to remove them, jackass. No…we wait. If they want to talk, they’ll have someone come and get you.”

Thankfully, our meals were brought over and placed on the table, but not before I stole another glimpse at Stefan. His eyes were on his father and his hands folded over the table. Business. Did he not know I was here? I sighed loudly while plating some mozzarella en carozza.