Born into the Mob Read online

  She turned to face him. “Are you really happy here?”

  He chuckled. “Do you prefer wine or spirits? Or are you a beer girl?”

  “Wine. Thank you. Are you going to answer my question?”

  “Yes. Eventually. How does pinot grigio sound?”

  “Fine.”

  She watched him pluck two glasses from a rack hanging above a wine fridge as large as most people’s food refrigerators. The muscles on his forearms flexed and bunched as he tugged the cork out of the bottle.

  She never realized how much she liked forearms until now.

  He handed her a glass generously filled with wine, and then lifted his own in toast. “To two people who think they know what they want, but really they have no clue.”

  She touched the rim of her glass to his and took a sip of tart yet smooth wine. “What do you mean?”

  “Once upon a time, I was just like you. Well, not just like, I suppose. I never ran away and hid from the life I was born into. I only watched from the sidelines and wished I could be like my uncle. And the man, who I thought was a legend, that he worked for.”

  “Is that why you bought this house? Trying to get a sense of that life without actually living it?”

  He lifted his glass. “Perceptive of you, although not exactly spot on.” He glanced around at their surroundings. “People who were—and probably still are—part of that lifestyle are my clients. I entertain them a lot, and this house? It’s the perfect backdrop.”

  She opened her mouth to ask him what he did for a living, but he spoke first. “I want to ask about you, get to know you, even though I shouldn’t.”

  “Because of all this?” She motioned at the kitchen with her wineglass.

  He nodded.

  She shrugged. “Other than an unhealthy obsession with mafia books, my life is so completely different from where I came from. Even I have a hard time believing the man who once was the most powerful mob leader in this city is my biological father.”

  “Ah. So you’re having an identity crisis.”

  She laughed. “It’s like you’re inside my head, only you actually know what’s going on, whereas I’m floundering around, trying to figure out why I’m doing the things I’m doing.”

  He slid onto a barstool, and she sat down next to him.

  “That’s because I’m not all that different from you. Frankie is my mom’s brother. Although he got caught in Gino Sarvilli’s web, she went in the other direction, met a guy, had a normal, mob-free life. But she and Frankie stayed close, and she was forever badgering him about his choices, the things he was doing for Gino. And I’m pretty sure she didn’t even know the worst of it, or, at least, she pretended not to be aware.

  “Uncle Frankie used to come to family gatherings, and he was this total badass, a real antihero. He was so cool, all the kids loved him. And every time, after the party was over, my mom would lecture me and my two sisters about staying away from him because he was bad news.”

  “Which only made you more curious about him,” Nina guessed.

  “Yep. It didn’t help that me and Uncle Frankie got along really well. And after my dad left, he really stepped up, helped my mom take care of us. But then, after Gino was killed, he went to prison. Was gone for about ten years. Which only made him seem like even more of a badass when he finally got out.”

  He shook his head. “Kids—and young adults—are so easily impressed, often by the wrong thing.”

  “Isn’t that the truth.”

  “Gino’s empire is gone, of course, but those guys, they’re still around, still scary as fuck. It’s like they’re living legends.”

  She nodded. “I’m not sure how old I was, but I remember one day I was wandering around this house by myself, and I heard a weird noise. Like a wounded animal. I headed toward it, thinking that was exactly what it was, and I walked in on my father and some other guy beating up this man, who was on his knees with his arms behind his back. He was bleeding and crying and begging them to stop, and they just laughed. I turned around and rushed back to my bedroom and hid in my closet.”

  Staring into the pale liquid in her glass, she said, “It’s the fear factor, isn’t it?” She looked up at him, caught the wince that told her he could relate. “Since my father died, my life has been boring almost to the point of tears. No excitement whatsoever.”

  “None?” He arched his brows. “Nothing at all?”

  She could feel her skin warming.

  “I’ve done an amazing job of dating losers. I think, during college, that’s where I went looking for that excitement I was missing. I deliberately sought out guys who I thought were really bad for me. But it turned out, they were all just really bad.”

  She made a face and he laughed. And then he said, “Not all bad guys are bad.”

  “I think you mean not all guys who think they are bad are actually bad.”

  He paused and took a drink. “Maybe.”

  “And maybe that makes them really good.”

  She was playing with fire here, and she damn well knew it. So did he, she was sure of it.

  Except this didn’t feel like every other bad dating decision she’d ever made. Luca was different. It was obvious he didn’t think he was, but this conversation, the comfort level, her very real desire to carry on, to talk into the night, to get to know him to the point where they were as close as she and Hillary were… she’d never experienced anything like this before.

  Luca noticed her empty glass and stood, walking around the island to pull the bottle of wine out of the fridge.

  “Does anyone in your family know you’re here?” he asked as he refilled her drink.

  “Just Hillary. Which was an accident. I wasn’t planning to tell anyone. I intended to come, wander down memory lane, and then go home and pretend I’d just gone to the coast for the weekend or something.”

  “What does Hillary think?”

  Nina rolled her eyes. “She thinks I’m a fool. She still has issues associated with that day my father showed up and threatened to kill her. She was in counseling for years.”

  “The difference between those of us born into this life and the rest of them. It’s just another day for us.”

  She gulped wine. He gave a little jolt and then pulled his phone out of his pocket, frowning as he read whatever was on the screen.

  “As thoroughly enjoyable as this afternoon has been, unfortunately, I have to cut it short.”

  “How come?”

  He glanced at his phone again before returning it to his pocket. “I, uh, have to head into work soon.” He cleared his throat and wouldn’t look her in the eye.

  “Go into work? On a Friday afternoon?” After drinking half a bottle of wine?

  He shrugged. “Not every job is a nine-to-fiver.”

  She pushed away her nearly empty glass. “Thanks for letting me have a look around.”

  “Thanks for trusting me enough to do it.”

  He herded her out the front door and bid her goodbye without so much as a hug or handshake or, better yet, a kiss, which was silly of her to even think about.

  She went to her hotel, feeling bereft. Whatever she’d hoped to accomplish with this trip, she hadn’t done it. There was no closure. In fact, she wanted more. She wanted to spend more time with Luca. Get to know him better.

  A lot better.

  She stopped in the hotel bar and bought a glass of wine, then carried it upstairs to her room where she sat on the bed and pulled up Google on her phone.

  And she did a search on “Luca Russo.”

  Chapter Four

  Knuckles rapped on the door to his office. Luca glanced up from the schedule he’d been working on. “Come in.”

  Serendipity—few of the staff used their real names here—leaned her upper half into the room. Her bleached blonde hair was teased so high she would have fit in perfectly in the nineties. She wore a sequined bikini top that drew the eye to her more than ample assets.

  “There’s a smokin’ hot chick who just walked in the door, and she totally doesn’t look like she belongs here.”

  Luca arched his brows. “Every single woman who works here is smokin’ hot. Including you.”

  Serendipity smirked. She and Luca, as it turned out, had the same taste in women. Well, women to hire to work in a strip club, anyway.

  She was a fantastic dancer-slash-bar-manager, one of the few Luca would call friend rather than simply an employee. She was also an excellent judge of character, so he often had her sit in on his interviews, and her opinion mattered when it came down to whether the person was hired.

  “That’s just it. She doesn’t look like a dancer. Or someone’s little plaything. She looks kind of lost, truth be told.”

  “Okay, you’ve piqued my curiosity.” He closed the laptop and followed her out the door, down the hall, into the bowels of the club.

  It was still early, but the place was already kicking. Exactly as it should be on a Friday evening. He noticed a cluster of Uncle Frankie’s buddies front and center by the stage. They’d probably be camped out all night.

  Even though he owned the place, he didn’t get the lure of strip clubs. It was basically deliberately giving yourself blue balls.

  Serendipity touched his shoulder and nodded toward the bar. It took less than three seconds for Luca to know exactly who she was talking about. Because, yeah, that woman most definitely did not belong here.

  Despite the smooth, sleek hair, the extra dose of smoky shadow around her eyes. The burgundy lipstick. That off-the- shoulder, form-fitting dress that fell to mid-thigh. It felt like it took half an hour to peruse his way down her lean, lightly tanned legs until his gaze reached a pair of stiletto sandals with a strap around the ankles.

  Christ, Serendipity was right. She was smokin’.

  And she stood out like a sore thumb. Or, more accurately, a freaking siren.

  He stalked across the room, brushing off customers who tried to chat, and he didn’t stop until he reached out and grabbed her arm.

  “Hey,” she said, jerking away from him until, apparently, she realized it was him and not someone else. “Oh. Hey.”

  The difference sounded a little bit like “Get the fuck away from me” and “Want to take me to bed?”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he practically snarled, glancing around. So far, the group near the stage were the only ones from Gino’s old crew in the building. That would change as the night wore on, though. It always did. Normally, he appreciated that because if they weren’t here, the Armenians would be, and that lot didn’t come here to spend money on booze and strippers.

  Tonight, however, he had an entirely different concern.

  “Come on.” He didn’t ask, he simply pulled her along, taking the long way around to be sure the half-drunk, middle-aged Italian men drooling over his dancers didn’t notice them.

  As soon as they were inside his office, he slammed the door and leaned against it. “What the hell are you doing here, Nina?”

  She pretended to inspect the room, which was a pretty typical bar office with lots of shelves stuffed with old equipment and marketing paraphernalia, posters of half-naked women holding beers in their hands taped to the walls.

  “I was looking for something to do. This place isn’t too far from my hotel.”

  “You’re a lousy liar. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

  “Actually, Hill does all the time.”

  “Why did you come here? Seriously.”

  She inspected her French manicure while those far too kissable lips formed a small pout. “I got curious, so I Googled you when I got back to my hotel.”

  “Oh hell.” He dragged his hand through his hair.

  “So you’re a strip club owner, huh?”

  It was his turn to pretend like he wasn’t supremely uncomfortable. “It’s a living.”

  “You wanted to know what the lifestyle was like, but you weren’t crazy enough to truly try it out. But this gets you close, doesn’t it? I’m sure there are plenty of dangerous guys who frequent this place.”

  He stalked toward her, towering over her like he was trying to intimidate her. Maybe he was, although it didn’t look like it was working. If anything she looked…turned on.

  Jesus.

  “Those are exactly the kind of guys who come here, which is why it’s the worst possible place for you to be. What if someone recognizes you?”

  She rolled her eyes, and he had this almost physical pull toward her, like the action was causing his lips to pucker and lean into hers.

  He took a step back.

  “I was a six-year-old child the last time any of those people saw me. No one will recognize me.”

  “I’m not keen on taking that chance. You need to leave.”

  “Do you have to be here?”

  “Huh?”

  She waved at the door. “Do they need you tonight? Or can you leave with me?”

  He blinked, like maybe the action would help clarify her words. “What are you trying to say?”

  She huffed. “I’m asking you to go out with me. Somewhere else. There’s a bar in the hotel where I’m staying, and when I left, it looked like a jazz band was setting up. Could be fun to hang out, have a few drinks. Get to know each other better.”

  Threading the fingers of both hands into his hair, he turned away from her. “This isn’t seriously happening, is it?” He turned back to stare at her. “You aren’t seriously asking me out.”

  “That’s literally what I just did.”

  “Why do you want to go out with me?”

  “Because of the charming personality I saw earlier today. Although if you keep this up, I may change my mind.”

  She was a feisty one. If she were anyone else in the world, it was entirely realistic that he’d have her bent over his desk by now, pumping for all he was worth while thrumming her clit until she fell apart for him.

  But not Nina fucking Sarvilli.

  “Good. Change your mind. Go away.”

  “What the hell has gotten into you?” She had been leaning against the desk, and she pushed off now and stepped toward him. There was a fire in her eyes that should have scared him, except that wasn’t the reaction going on below his belt.

  “What happened between my leaving your house earlier and now?”

  “Well, for one thing, you now know that I own a strip club. And your roots notwithstanding, it sure seems like you are a tad more refined than the type of woman who thinks it’s cool to fuck a guy who owns a place like this.”

  “That’s fair,” she admitted. “I probably wouldn’t give you the time of day if I hadn’t spent several hours getting to know you earlier today.”

  “And let’s not forget that my uncle used to be your dad’s right-hand man. He killed for your father, Nina.”

  “I’m not here because of your uncle.”

  “You’re missing the point.”

  “No, I’m not. Luca, I’m not stupid. I like you, but I know that when I get on that plane on Sunday, I’ll never talk to you again. Regardless of what does or does not happen between now and then.”

  She placed her hands on his chest, smoothed them up to his shoulders and down again. He closed his eyes and tried to remember why he should not enjoy the sensation as much as he was.

  “And if we both know that we are going to walk away in forty or so hours, why not enjoy ourselves in the meantime?”

  There were probably a thousand reasons why this was a bad idea. But with her hands on his chest, her hopeful eyes staring up at his face, he couldn’t come up with a single one of them.

  “First, you promise me that when you do leave, it will be for good. No coming back again. No contact with anyone from Detroit. Understood?”

  “Not even you?”

  He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. Hell, we shouldn’t even be doing this, let alone talking about hanging out for the rest of the weekend.”

  “Fine. I promise.”

  Her hands were still on his chest. Her eyes were still staring up at him, hope unfurling like a flower.

  He should say no. He should say no. He should…

  He sighed. Dragged his hand through his hair again. It probably looked like he’d stuck his head in a wind tunnel at this point. “Let me go talk to Serendipity. Make sure she can handle things for the rest of the night.”

  “Is she the one in the sequined bra?” Nina wrinkled her nose.

  Luca chuckled. “Yes. And you have nothing to worry about. She’s probably more attracted to you than she is to me.”

  Her eyes widened. “I wasn’t worried.”

  “Uh-huh. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  He returned to the front of the club and found Serendipity behind the bar, checking liquor bottles against a spreadsheet pulled up on the iPad in her hand.

  She glanced at him and arched one dark blond brow. “Might be time for a trim.”

  He patted his waves, which were probably beyond help.

  “Did you send the lost little princess home?” she asked.

  “She’s more like a queen,” he blurted without thinking.

  Both eyebrows shot into Serendipity’s hairline. “Fine. Did you send your queen away?”

  “Actually, no. I’m going to take her out tonight.”

  “She doesn’t seem like your type.”

  “No, she really isn’t.” Which was concerning. Not only was she dangerous because of who she was, but she had emotional involvement written all over her in neon highlighter.

  Unfortunately, as his mother would attest, he never was good at doing what he should do.

  “Can you hold down the fort? Do you want me to call anyone in to help?”

  “Nah. I got it. Go have fun with your little queen.”

  He snorted. “Accurate description.” Her father had once been a mafia kingpin, after all.

  Serendipity stared at him pointedly, but he did not elaborate.

  Serendipity wasn’t Italian, and she was too young to have been involved with any of Gino Sarvilli’s men back when they ruled Detroit, but Luca knew better than to utter the truth of Nina’s heritage to any damn person.