Impregnated By The Mafia Don

Felix

I swear, if you ever want shit to be handled the right way, do it yourself.

They only had one job. Find Bianchi’s underground poker ring and rob that fucker blind; after all, he did steal my patrons.

They were not supposed to let things get out of control and kill three of his men.

Needless to say, after the lengthy, grueling interrogation with my mafiosos, I need to get the fuck away from them to calm my nerves.

One simple job, and they fuck it up.

So here I am at a spot I rarely visit - the most dangerous place to be - The White Rabbit, Chicago’s best-kept secret. An underground bar catering to the most notorious gangsters in the windy city.

Disguised from the public eye, I enter the rickety, tattered wooden door and reach the concealed keypad.

I enter the secret pin for the night and watch as the shelves separate, leading me to a stairway that will take me to the debauchery I crave.

When I enter the White Rabbit, my eyes adjust to the dimmed lighting. The room, as always, smells like Cuban cigars and Italian wine.

A few women walk around half-naked, hoping to pick up the wealthiest clients for the night.

One crosses my path and gently lays her finger on the nape of my neck, gliding it down my torso. I smack her hand away before she even reaches my belly button.

I have many weaknesses, but paying for a woman isn’t one of them. I don’t need to.

I’m Felix fucking Carlisi. Half the Dons want to marry their firstborn daughters off to me, and the other half want me dead for flirting with theirs.

“Felix,” I hear my name from a corner of the speakeasy. A few people look up and notice my presence. Some nod in acknowledgment, some clutch their fists, and others reach for their guns.

But this isn’t where the fights happen.

The White Rabbit has one rule - break a bottle, barred entry forever, and being the only place where most of us can find refuge, we all host our white flags before entering.

“Luca,” I walk over to greet the man with every eye looking my way. “Keep it low, will you? I’ve had a rough day and need a drink ... or two.”

“A bottle?” he laughs, taking me in for a bear hug.

“My men fucked with Bianchi,” I confess.

“Bianchi’s nothing on you,” says Luca. “The cops have a kill-on-site with me. I’m meeting with the commissioner tomorrow to see what we can do.”

“You really did pull one out under them,” I say, shaking my head in disapproval. “Your men fucked up.”

“What can I say? I got rid of those bastards.”

I nod. “Well, sort out your mess. A hit on you is just a pathway for the cops to reign chaos on us all. Lay low, alright?”

“Si, Fratello,” he acknowledges me.

Yes, brother. Our families go way back – what’s the American word for it, frenemies?

I leave and walk to the empty bar while the rest of the mafiosos and drug lords wait for their drinks on their tables.

A woman stands with her back to me, the only one behind the bar. Her long, auburn hair cascades down her back.

I am drawn to her silhouette. Her tiny waist and big ass send an inviting shiver down my spine, and the image of me handling her curves as she’s bent over intrudes my thoughts.

I cough to get her attention. “Excuse me,” I say.

She doesn’t hear me. She takes a glass and runs it under the water.

“Excuse me,” I say, louder this time. A few people turn their heads. She still doesn’t.

Is she ignoring me? In anger, I bang my hand on the bar.

This time, she turns slowly. Her eyes are the most beautiful I’ve ever seen - an impenetrable grey, as mysterious as nature itself. And her face - a sweetheart face, tiny with big eyes.

She has an eyebrow raised, and clearly, she’s not amused.

“You’re entitled, aren’t you?” she asks me, arms folded across her breasts. Her tits pop out of that shirt with the deep V-neck, and I try extra hard to not let her see me stare.

“You’re slow,” I drawl.

“I like to keep men like you waiting,” she retorts sassily.

“Men like ... me?” I ask.

“I know the likes of you. Never hear a no. Always get what you want at the snap of a finger. Entitled.” She attacks like a tigress.

Her eyes narrow, “Don’t play coy with me. I have dealt with men like you before.”

I lean against the bar, “You have dealt with men who know what they want?”

She rolls her eyes, “Men who think they deserve everything just because they have power.”

I chuckle, “You know, you’re not wrong. But I’m different.”

She arches an eyebrow, “Different, how?”

I tilt and look at her, “I don’t just want everything. I want ...you,” I say, toying with her.

I could see a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Why?” she asks stone-faced. Any other woman would have giggled or acted coy, but she covered up.

Smart.

I lean in and whisper, “You have fire in your eyes. And I want you to unleash it on me.”

She bites her lip, considering my words. Then she finally speaks, “Okay. But I can guarantee you have never had a woman like me.

I grin, “Talk is cheap.”

She grabs my shirt collar and pulls me in. I find my heart racing and believe she’s about to kiss me.

Instead, with our lips inches apart, she whispers, staring me right in the eyes - “What the fuck do you want to drink?” Then, she lets go of my collar and shoves me back.

For a tiny woman, she’s got a lot of strength.

I laugh. “Whiskey on the rocks.”

“How manly of you,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“What can I say?” I retort.

She’s beginning to grow on me. I like her. By now, I’m bored of the damsels in distress, and this one doesn’t seem the damsel type.

I take my drink and settle down on one of the bar stools. I take a few sips and look around.

Minutes turn to hours, and I’m the last man standing by the night's end.

“You gonna stay here all night?” she asks.

“Maybe ... do you want me to stay here all night?”

“Who am I to tell you, great one, what you can or can not do?”

I smile as she turns away to clear out the tables. I decide to use the washroom and clear my head. This fire inside me is getting unbearable.

When I return, I stand in shock. A man is leaning across the bar with a gun to her head, her hair gripped in his hand and her neck crooked as he tugs her towards him.

“Give me the money,” he threatens, shaking his head towards the cash register.

I’m about to draw my weapon without going undetected as I stand behind him. Still, before I do, she smiles at her assailant.

"Trucchi, trucci, trucci," she clucks her tongue.

Tricks, tricks, tricks. He doesn’t like that because he slaps her across the cheek. From what I see next, she’s got plenty of those up her sleeve too.

She smiles devilishly and swiftly moves her body, gathering the force to execute a reverse punch, followed by a combination of karate moves.

She uses the gun to her advantage and turns it around on him. He’s stunned by this sequence of moves, and so am I.

She leaped across the bar and pinned him down, with his hands behind his back in no time.

I’d never seen anything like it in my life.

“Well,” I reply with a laugh, “I’ll be sure to not forget that next time.”

The man struggles under her, and I walk over to relieve her of his presence.

“Stay here,” I say, leading him out by the collar. After giving him a few punches and kicking him hard on his balls, I tell him my name.

“Remember me, Felix Carlisi. Never show your face around her again. If you do, I’ll kill you.”