πππππππ
VANESSAAbout five years ago, the heat on my father and his activities was pretty intense. Until the Morellos moved in on what my dad called our territory. Then the heat got worse as the Morellos started wreaking havoc on the streets. I wasn't exactly sure what they did, but by the way, my dad and brothers always cursed whenever the subject of the Morellos came up, I'd say it was pretty bad shit.Still scrolling down James' page, I decided there wasn't much else to see or to stalk. So, I went back to my page, contemplating whether I should remove James Gunner as a follower. He was probably using it to keep tabs on me, watching me, waiting for me to slip up so he could get what he wantedβincriminating shit on my family. Plus, now he knew ninety per cent of my status updates were bullshit anyway. What if he called me out on it?While I stared at the screen, a notification popped up saying James Gunner commented on your post.Shit, shit, shit.I slid my finger across the screen and read his comment on my check-in at the Skin Spa in New York.Was it worth it?What the hell did that even mean? I knew I shouldn't, and I hardly ever replied to comments, but I couldn't help myself.Quickly I typed, Was what worth it?About three minutes went by before another notification popped up.The twenty-five-minute treatment.I knew he was talking about the twenty-five minutes I was stuck down in that damn interrogation room with him. The urge to reply to his last comment was so overwhelming, and my fingers started to burn with the need to type a snotty replyβ¦ something like fuck you! But I didn't. Instead, I opened my messenger app and started typing a message to the fucking man. Vanessa: I don't know what you're trying to do, but I would appreciate it if you didn't put my public image in jeopardy. Vanessa. First, why the fuck was I doing this? Why was I even dignifying this asshole's lame attempt at contact by giving him exactly what he wanted... contact?And second, why the hell did I put my name in the end? This was F******k Messenger, not a damn text message. Besides, something told me if it was a text message, Detective Gunner would know it was from me. He probably had my phone number memorized.There was a soft sound of bubbles popping, and I looked down, staring at the little text bubble appearing just below my message. James is typing a message, and I am struggling to breathe. Seriously.And in popped his message.James: I'm not trying to do anything. You're putting your public image in jeopardy yourself by lying about your whereabouts. My fingers flew over the screen quicker than you could say "arrogant son of a bitch." Vanessa: I'm giving all my followers what they want. James: And what's that? Vanessa: A glimpse into the life of someone they see as nothing more than a rich princess with not a care in the world while she lives the high life. I'm letting them experience it all, if only for a few damn seconds while they read that post and admire the picture. I was angry, and I was annoyed. How dare he think he had me all figured out, when, in fact, he had no goddamned clue?Another text bubble appeared, and when the message came up on the screen, I had to read it twice. James: I know you're much more than just a rich princess. He was playing the nice guy card, pretending he understood all my fucking problems. Unfortunately for him, I was smarter than that. Vanessa: Well, thanks, Dr Phil. Now leave me alone. The text bubble appeared again, but then it was gone. Appeared again, and then gone again. I watched for about five minutes as he started and stopped, a message never showing up. Until finallyβ¦ What if I don't want to, princess? An image of his dark eyes slid into my mind. The way it felt having him so close to me, almost pinning me against the door, his warm breath wafting over my already burning cheeks. No use denying it. That man hit all the right buttons, playing every sensual impulse inside me like a fucking fiddle. And I wasn't even sure he was doing it on purpose. I thought for a man like him, it came naturally. Lust and sex just bled out of him, infecting you with the most intense carnal desires like a damn virus. And it kept on spreading through every vein, every bone until you ended up craving him more than any other type of drug.Jesus! I was clenching my thighs. I was clenching my fucking thighs, and he wasn't even anywhere near me.With sweaty palms, I started typing. Vanessa: You don't have a choice. Have a nice day, Detective. I didn't hear from him again after that.The drive home was quiet, and I was wondering how I was going to get through the next few weeks. I arrived home two days ago, and I already felt like I was suffocating just by having the Valenti last name. No matter how long I stayed away, how long I waited before I came back home, the people here never forgot. They always recognized me, especially when I was out with my two brothers hovering over me like guard dogs.Italian men and the women in their lives. You could always count on an Italian man to be extremely overprotective.My brother Daniel, who was turning twenty-four tomorrow, was too busy chasing after tits and ass. Not that he needed to chase it; it somehow followed him wherever he went. It was like he was a magnet for everything that had an abundance of estrogen. The problem was, that his dick didn't know how to say no.But Antonio, my oldest brother, was most like my dad. He was all business and no play. When it came to the family and running the business smoothly, he was a perfectionist. He was what they called the underboss, the son who would take over my father's empire and run it exactly the way he was taught. Antonio was darker, harder than Daniel, and more focused.I worried about Antonio sometimes. He was twenty-eight, and I knew for a fact he hadn't been out there enjoying life as much as he should. He had to grow up much sooner than the rest of us, and I was afraid he was going to wake up one day and realize he'd been living someone else's life, not his own.That was the reality for all three of us Bologna children. We'd always live in the shadow of our fatherβthe Black Wolf.I looked down at my phone with James' face still on the screen. Why did I have the feeling that not only did I have the black Wolf to worry about, but also that damn detective?πππππJAMESI stepped into my apartment to meet it as neat and perfect as I left it. It was so motherfucking clean that if you wanted, you could sleep inside my toilet. If you took into consideration what my apartment looked like, you'd say I was a neat freak. My sister would die a slow and painful death if she saw this place because she knows she'll never be able to keep up.There were empty beer bottles neatly tucked in the corner of the living room. From where I stood, my kitchen looked as white as snow, all my utensils were shining as if a star had hit them or something. You couldn't find one microwavable plastic instant meal container anywhere in the kitchen sink, and empty cans of soda were nearly nonexistent around the house. Although I used them to quench my morning-after thirst, I made sure there were no traces of them on the counter.The way most people saw it, I was a detective, not a domesticated pansy. I should have much better things to do with my time than cleaning
πππππJAMESRoman stared at me for what felt like a million years. He looked apprehensive as if he was trying to gauge how the formation was going to affect me. After a few more seconds, I couldn't take it again. "Roman!" I grunted, sending him a scowl.Roman rolled his eyes and nodded his head. "Okay, okay, chill. Now answer me this, when did the Morello's move into town, Gunner?""Five years ago," I replied. And then I clicked. I suddenly understood where he was going with this. "But it doesn't fit into the timeframe of all the child disappearances," I reasoned. If what Roman Anderson was trying to tell me was true, then he would have to make it all fit in my head. If not, It was going to be pretty difficult for me to believe him. It wasn't my fault. That was just how detectives were wired.Roman lifted a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching. "If you're as smart as you think you are, you'll know it was about five years ago that drugs started to flow into these streets." He s
πππππππ VANESSA I stared at my phone and wondered if I should update my status and let the world know I was on my way to Daniel's birthday party at Bolivia nightclub. But that would be stupid. Plus, it would be a recipe for a stampede. If I were honest with myself, I'd admit the only reason I would want to do something so stupid would be to see if he was still keeping an eye on my profile. And would he react? Or would he suspect it was just another ruse, a ploy at creating a little entertainment for my followers? God, I felt so pathetic even considering it. In any case, I wouldn't want to do anything to jeopardize the little freedom my brothers and I were given. Usually, our dad didn't condone us hanging out at bars or nightclubs, and we hardly ever did. Being Italian came with a lot of rules and family morals everyone needed to adhere to. From an early age, we were taught to wear sophistication as a second skin and never to disgrace the family. We were
πππππππVANESSAI heard my father clear his throat as I approached him.He turned and tried to muster a sweet smile, which I was sure was not humanly possible when it came to my dad."Everything okay, Dad?" I asked and he gave me a nod, took off his suit jacket and placed it by his briefcase before taking off his tie and loosening the top two buttons of his shirt.I kept staring at the tattoo on the top of his hand, the symbol that represented our family-the wolf. The symbol consisted of chains weaved together to form a wolf's face, almost like a tribal sign. Both my brothers and all my uncles and cousins who have decided to devote their lives to the family business have the same symbol tattooed on their hands. My mom, like all the other women in our family, has it on the inside of her wrist. Everyone who had gone through the initiation ceremony received that symbol and wore it as a sign of their loyalty and commitment to the Bologna legacy.I was the only Bologna who hadn't be
πππππππVANESSAWithin half an hour, we were at the club and Daniel parked the car outside, but as I was about to get out, Antonio turned in his seat to face me. "Tonight is special, Vanessa. Could you at least try to behave yourself tonight?"My mouth dropped open. "Oh, my God, Antonio, are you serious right now?" This is un-fucking-believable."I'm dead serious, Vanessa. Make sure you stay close to me all night. I don't want you out of my sight at all. That's how serious this is."I crossed my arms and pouted. Yes...I pout. Sue me. "Fine, bodyguard. Anything else? Would you like me to duct tape my hip to yours? Or maybe I could put a big flashing neon sign on my forehead that reads 'I have no life!'"Antonio rolled his eyes. "Grow up, Nessa. And stop being so dramatic.""Grow up, Nessa, and stop being so dramatic," I mouthed in a mocking tone, making sure to use Antonio's 'I'm the boss' voice.Antonio got out of the car, and Daniel turned in his seat to face me."What?" I gro
πππππ JAMES It was nine forty-five, and I was sitting at the bar in Bolivia and staring at the whiskey in my glass. There was no doubt in my mind they would show up tonight. It was Daniel Bologna's birthday today, and everyone knew Daniel was notorious for his party, being the wild one of the Bologna brothers. I also happened to know this was one of his favorite spots. Bolivia was known for its upper-class clientele. It was a three-story club with a bar on the lower level where luxurious leather couches surrounded the black and white checkered dance floor. The second floor was more like a gallery that overlooked the rest of the club and the top floor was something of a mystery to everyone who wasn't someone. The second floor was where all the big VIP fuckers sat, pretending they were watching over their little kingdom of drunken souls. There they were served by waitresses dressed in nothing but shiny red miniskirts and matching crop tops. I was also pretty sure on
πππππJAMESA waitress with a tray full of shots walked past them and leaned down while Antonio and Daniel each took a glass. When Vanessa tried to reach for one, Antonio waved the waitress away, leaving Vanessa empty-handed. By the way, she pouted and crossed her arms, I knew she was pissed off. I couldn't stop myself from smiling. She was cute when she was pissed off. She was cute when she smiled too. She was always cute, no matter what she did. I'm such a fucking weirdo. For the next hour and a half, I sat there and watched a lot of them. Daniel had three girls draped over him like Sunday morning's laundry. Antonio was watching a woman dance on the table in front of him, giving him his show. Lucky son of a bitch. What I did notice was Vanessa had been going to the ladies' room quite a lot during the last hour. Something else I noticed tooβwhich her brothers didn'tβwas she had been sneaking in shots en route to and from the ladies' room. Clever girl. The barten
πππππJAMESEvery male instinct inside me raged, rumbling with the need to hear her scream my name, to feel her walls tighten around me while I gave her the most powerful orgasm she had ever had in her entire life. Giving this woman pleasure had now become my only goal. I wanted to pound multiple goddamn releases into her while the sound of my name on her lips rang through my ears like a fucking cheerleading song. I wrapped my other arm around her waist and jerked her harder against me, letting her feel how hard I was for her. "If I'm correct, there's a rule somewhere in the Criminal Mafia Handbook for Dummies that says you're not allowed to fraternize with cops." The seductive smile that spread across her face made my cock twitch. "I already told you, I have no idea about this mafia thing you're talking about, Detective." I moved closer and put my lips against the side of her cheek, and I was pretty sure I felt her shiver. "Oh, that's right," I started. "You'