Mafia Obsession

Elio

“You really aren’t going to take a drink with me, friend?” Russel says, then knocks back another glass of whiskey. I’ve never been the sort of person to count another man’s drinks, but he’s already wasted.

I can feel Luca getting tense beside me. Russel has asked if I’m going to have a drink three times now. “My brother isn’t much of a drinker,” Luca says. “But don’t worry. You’re not going to outdrink me.”

Russel grins, his lips wet, his eyes wet. I can’t believe Dad would ever do business with somebody this unprofessional. People can say what they want about the mob, but our Family has better standards than this. At least, we did.

“I’d be interested to hear about your income streams,” I tell Russel.

He scowls, toying with his steak knife. From across the restaurant, I spot a few of our men looking over, maybe getting ready for a fight. I normally try to avoid violence. Obviously, I’m capable of it, but there are usually better routes. Here, though, with this asshole, I almost welcome it.

“I thought we were here to sort out the stadium project,” Russel says.

“I like to know who I’m in business with,” I tell him. “It’s a reasonable question.”

Russel sighs and pushes his chair back. “I need to use the little boy’s room. Do you mind?”

Before I can reply, he stands and abruptly walks away.

“He walks like a junkie,” I say. “Look at him twitching.” “Careful,” Luca replies. “We need him.”

“Need him?” I growl.

“He’s got an in with the stadium.”

“Then we’ll do this the old way. Gather all these Shank assholes up and persuade them to give us the in instead.”

“I’m not sure Dad would approve of that.” Luca stands. “I need to use the toilet, too.”

“Feel free to fuck that lowlife up while you’re in there.” “Bro,” Luca says, giving me a look.

I massage my forehead. I’m getting a headache. It’s the meeting, the noise, but mostly, it’s the fact Scarlet has been walking back and forth between tables this entire time. With those hips moving, her cheeks red, and I can only sit here and pretend not to see, not to care. When she approaches our table, my balls swell, and my shaft aches.

“Are you done with your plates?” she asks.

I nod, finding it difficult to speak. Being this close to her without dragging her into my lap is tough.

As she clears away, she leans over the table near me. Her skirt rises just a little, showing more of her thick, tempting legs, juicy in the tights. My hand trembles with the effort of not grabbing her leg, sliding up, pushing against her pussy, and feeling her wetness.

She turns away, carrying the plates and leaving a note behind. I pick it up and read it. Savage instincts roar inside of me.

I’m so sorry, Mr. Marino. I don’t want to impose, but my dad has gotten into

$40, 000 of debt with a loan shark. Last night, he got physical with me and threatened me. I wouldn’t be doing this unless I was hopeless. If you can help…

She left a phone number at the bottom of the note.

The savage sense of possession inside of me tries to send me surging to my feet. I’ll find the bastard who threatened my woman-who got physical with her-and I’ll make the prick pay. Just the idea of somebody getting physical with my woman is enough to turn me into a wild, violent animal. The thought of them hurting her…

I take out my cell phone and type her number in. I should probably wait until this meeting ends, but I must know. It hurts just thinking about this. It hasn’t even been an hour since I first saw Scarlet or learned her name, yet I’m still ready to go to war for her.

How exactly did he get physical? I type.

Looking up, I see her carrying two plates across the restaurant. Her phone must be on vibrate. A moment after I send the message, she looks over at me. I’m too far away to see her expression fully, but it’s like I can see the pain radiating from her.

After she’s delivered the order, she heads to the kitchen. My phone vibrates.

He knocked on the door late last night… well, early morning. Then he shoved me up against the wall and put his hand over my mouth. He said my dad owes thirty-two thousand, but it would increase by three every day, so we should just call it an even forty.

I grip the edge of the table, my hands trembling as I try to process what I’ve just read. A man put his hand on my woman’s mouth in her own home. He intimidated her in the place she’s supposed to feel the safest. If he were here now, I’d rip his limbs off. I’d drive my fist into his face over and over and

–

“You good, bro?” Luca says, sitting beside me.

“Fine,” I say, forcing my grip to relax. “Where’s our friend?” “He’s, uh…” Luca winces.

I look at my little brother. It’s always been difficult for him to hide his emotions from me. “He’s doing drugs in the bathroom.”

Luca looks down at the table. I almost grab him and force him to meet my eye. Purposefully, I keep my hands in my lap. I’m not usually this on edge, but Scarlet’s text surges around my head-the fact that somebody would dream of doing that to her, my woman, except she’s not my woman. I don’t even know if she has a boyfriend. She asked me to help, not because she wants me, but because I’m Elio Marino. That’s all.

“Did you do any with him?” I ask.

“What?” Luca snaps. “Is that a joke?” “Had to ask.”

“I don’t do that shit.”

“We don’t do business with people who do, either, and yet here we are.”

I take out my phone and type a message to Scarlet. Do you have any idea who these loan sharks are?

No, she replies half a minute later. My dad might, but he walked out last night. I could ask my mom, but I doubt she has any idea. This is a pattern with my dad. He does get-rich-quick schemes and then leaves us to handle his mess, but it’s never been this serious before. I’m scared.

I read the final declaration, and my gut is all twisted up. The fact she’s scared just makes me feel so damn sick. She should never have to be afraid of anything-definitely not some lowlife who’d intimidate a woman in her own home.

How old are you? I ask.

“Who are you texting?” Luca says.

“Why does it matter?” I look up. “Our good friend is busy in the bathroom, isn’t he?”

“It’s just… you were smiling.” “I was?”

“Yeah,” Luca says. “It’s weird.”

I wonder what that says about me, the fact my own brother finds it strange if I crack a smile. I’m sure it’s nothing good.

“Who is it, then?” Luca goes on.

“It doesn’t matter,” I tell him, which is a downright lie. Nothing and no one has ever mattered more.

My phone vibrates again. Nineteen. Why?

That’s a good question. Considering our current conversation, I have no good reason to ask her age, but I had to know-nineteen. That means she’s less than half my age. She’s young, fertile, and naive, and if she’s smart, she wouldn’t want anything to do with a man like me. She’d run if she knew all the hungry thoughts racing through my mind.NôvelDrama.Org © content.

Only a scumbag would do that to a nineteen-year-old woman. What did he look like? Any distinguishing features?

He was wearing a balaclava, she replies. He had green eyes. I think he was maybe five foot six. Around there, anyway. His voice was like any voice you’d hear around this neighborhood. I’m sorry. I know that’s not helpful.

You don’t have to apologize, I tell her. I know this can’t be easy. “Elio, he’s coming back.”

I hate how Luca says this, as though we should snap to attention just because Russel is… Wait, what the fuck?

“Why is Dad here?” I ask Luca.

“I don’t know,” Luca whispers, sounding just as stunned as me.

Dad walks awkwardly, leaning heavily on his walking stick. Mom stands at his side, looking dignified as always, her gray hair tied up. She’s recently started wearing a pinned-up veil, a strange addition to her wardrobe that makes it look as if she’s in mourning. Dad breaks my goddamn heart. He was a lion before the stroke. Now, it’s a struggle for him to walk to the table. Russel stands at his other side, holding onto his elbow, helping him.

What the fuck?

I stand and rush over to my parents, taking my dad’s arm, ignoring how Russel looks at me. It’s like this bastard thinks he has any right to touch my father. “Hello, Father,” I say. “Mother.”

“Elio,” Mom says, smiling at me warmly. She always looks loving and affectionate when she’s talking to us. It’s when she forgets to put on her brave face that the real misery slithers out.

“This is a nice surprise,” I say, struggling to keep my composure.

“Your father thought it better we attend in person. Russel is a shrewd businessman.”

I don’t have to look at Russel to know this has him beaming. I can feel the arrogant sense of victory emanating from him like a big wave. I give Dad my chair, holding it out. He looks like he barely knows where he is. When Mom sits beside him, she leans in, offering Dad her ear. That’s how he communicates these days, through Mom.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” I ask Mom and Dad.

“I’ll have a glass of red wine,” Mom says, “and a water for your father.”

Dad sits there, all six feet two of him, staring blankly ahead. Luca sits on the other side, with Russel beside him. Russel, the leader of the Shanks, with his wide stoned eyes and a grin on his face that makes me want to beat the bastard bloody.

“I wasn’t aware you all knew each other,” I say, gesturing to the waiter. “I knew you were business associates, of course, but not friends.”

“Russel helped your father with a project a while back,” Mom says, waving a hand as though it’s not important when it’s more important than any business we’ve handled in the last several years. The fact this piece of shit is somehow affiliated with us…

Scarlet approaches the table. I see Russel leering at her with his beady green eyes. The way he looks at her is more than a leer. It’s like he’s trying to send a message. Maybe I’m seeing things that aren’t there, or perhaps my instincts are dead on the money.

“Yes?” Scarlet says.

“A glass of red and a water,” Russel grunts, talking to her like she’s filth.

She flinches and stares at him. I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing I am.

“It says a lot about a man,” I say once Scarlet walks away, “how he speaks to waiters and waitresses or anyone who is supposedly beneath him.”

“Does it?” Russel says, way too damn confident with those wide eyes and that punchable face.

“Yes,” I growl, “it does.”

I know for a fact that Mom agrees with this-hell, she’s the one who taught me-but she doesn’t say anything. This is unusual for her. Mom is usually one of the most talkative people in the room, but she’s not accustomed to being involved in business. She’s only here because it’s the only way Dad can or will speak.

Scarlet returns with the drinks. Like every other time she’s been close to me, I have to fight the urge to touch her, but it’s a little different this time. Instead of wanting to indulge all my steamy fantasies, I want to place my hand gently on her and softly tell her everything’s going to be okay. She shoots me a look as she leaves, with terror streaked across her features.

“So,” Mom says, “how much longer until we’re done? Is the business almost concluded?”

“I believe so,” Russel replies. “All that’s left is to shake hands.”

I grind my teeth and almost explode at the prick. “You still haven’t answered my question about income streams,” I snap.

Dad makes a moaning noise. Mom leans in and listens. His voice must be so quiet. Mom has to lean right up against him. After a short while, she sits up and folds her hands. “Your father says the stadium contract is far too valuable to risk with petty squabbles. He wants the Marinos and the Shanks to shake hands and get on with it.”

I almost tell Mom that listening to Dad in his current state is not advisable. However, just like Luca, she doesn’t seem to be able to accept that Dad isn’t the man he was. Anyway, he’s still the don of the Family. The only way to change that would be to get rid of him. I’d kill before I allowed that to happen.

“That sounds good to me,” Russel says. Yeah, no shit. Of course, it does.

“We’re all going to make a lot of money,” Luca says, looking at me as if to remind me to keep my cool.

I swallow. “Yeah, I guess we are. Excuse me.”

Standing, I walk toward the bathroom. My phone hasn’t vibrated since I sent my last message, but I check it anyway. I feel myself grinning when I see the reason why. The text conversation was open, meaning I didn’t receive any notifications, but there are two messages.

My smile falters when I read them.

It’s hard not to be scared. Honestly, I’m terrified.

Her next message says, This is going to sound nuts, but your friend reminds me of the man who threatened me last night. When I approached your table earlier, he looked really shocked, like he was surprised to see me.

As I read this message, another appears. Ignore that. I think I’m just on the edge.

Yet I can’t ignore it. I thought the same thing. I’m about to reply when Luca walks into the bathroom. “Come on, bro. Mom’s ordered champagne. We’re going to toast the new deal.”

“This is a fucking joke,” I snarl, pushing past him. “Toast it without me.”

Instead of taking the left to the restaurant, I turn right, open the fire escape door, and walk onto the street. I’ve got as far as my car when Mom comes running after me. “Elio, wait!”

I turn, stunned at the tone of her voice. The last time I heard her sound this terrified was when Dad had his stroke. Her eyes are glistening like she could break down in tears at any moment.

“Mom?” I touch her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“You can’t leave,” she says. “Please. You have to stay. You have to toast the deal with us.”

“Why?” I snap. “Are we that concerned with keeping up appearances with the Shanks? The deal is done. The money will be made. Surely, that’s all that matters.”

“Please, Elio,” she says. “For me.”

I grind my teeth. I want to ask her more. Something’s going on here. I’m sure of it. Something more than a deal.

“Mom.” I pull her into a hug. “Is there something you want to tell me? Is Russel threatening you? Is-”

“It’s nothing like that,” Mom cuts in, her voice trembling with emotion. “Your… your father wants this. Your father needs it. Doesn’t he deserve to make a deal? You know how happy business makes him.”

As far as I can tell, Dad barely knows he’s here, but I won’t say that to Mom. It would break her heart. Anyway, he must know he’s here since he’s talking to Mom. It’s just everybody else he refuses to or can’t speak to.

“Okay,” I say, sighing, “but only for you, Mom. If I had my way, I’d beat that druggy bastard into the dirt.”

I know Mom is going through the wringer when she doesn’t even get angry at me for swearing.