Bloodied Hands: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 1) Read online

  "Nobody said I wasn't smart. Mom and Dad miss you though. They said to tell you to stop by for dinner soon."

  I smiled. "How about they come here?" I grimaced. Sadie's mom was great at a lot of things.

  Cooking was not one of them.

  Duke snorted out a laugh, the tension of my agreement to date fading into memory as Sadie and I burst into giggles. "Yeah, let's do that instead."

  Two

  Matteo

  I zipped up my slacks, turning away from the pouty expression on the freckle free face of Jessica, staring up at me from where she'd knelt to suck me off.

  Or was it Jennifer?

  I shook my head, realizing just how little her name mattered when I'd never see her again.

  I saw none of them again.

  "Thanks, babe," I said, standing up and making my way to my office door. "Let a bouncer know if you need a ride. They'll call you a cab on me if your friend headed home without you." I shoved the door open, looking back at where she still knelt on the floor, wide eyes turned my way in disbelief.

  "I just swallowed your load," she protested, and even I had to admit that there was something so unappealing in the tone of her voice. If she hadn't had those thick lips and the sleek chestnut hair to go along with them, I never would have looked past it long enough to get her mouth on me. "You didn't even get me off, and you're kicking me out?"

  "Not at all," I drawled, stepping away from the door and going around the side of my desk to sit in my ergonomic office chair that was closer to a throne in resemblance. I spun around, facing the two-way mirror and looking down on the club floor below me. "You're more than welcome to go back to the party. It looks like a good night."

  She stood, slowly jutting out her ass in her slinky, sequined mini that barely covered said ass. "Or I could stay. The fun doesn't have to be over. I have other things to offer." Her hands rested on the opposite edge of my desk, and I eyed them in distaste. The sight of her hands on my desk was enough to send me over the edge, completely distracting me from what should have been a delectable display of cleavage.

  I inwardly cursed my cousin Lino. I rarely came to Indulgence, too caught up in running the other side of the business. He was one of very few people I could trust with my legitimate businesses, and despite his more carefree manner, he was dedicated to earning the biggest profit and running a tight ship. "Sorry, didn't think you were so dumb you couldn't tell I was done with you. I don't do seconds. I came, I'm done. That's all you’ll get from me." I turned back to the paperwork resting on my desk, touching the touchpad on my laptop to bring up the digital file I needed to review.

  She gasped, huffing her indignation at me when I didn't even bother to look away from my work. Her heels stomped against the hardwood floor as she stormed out of the office. "Shut the door!" I called after her, not even surprised in the slightest when she didn't listen.

  "Women, am I right?" Lino said, leaning against the door frame and grinning at me.

  "Oh, thank fuck, can I go home now?" I stood, grabbing my jacket off the back of the chair and shoving my arms in. "I can’t handle the music here, not anymore."

  "You're getting old, Matteo," Donatello announced, stepping into the room with Scar and my Uncle Gabriele following behind them with a smile.

  "You're one to talk, old man." He grinned at me, remaining silent when it became obvious my Uncle had something to say.

  "Got a new potential madam who wants to meet with you. High class, and I hear good things about her girls," he said.

  "She here?" I asked, buttoning up my suit jacket.

  “VIP section. Says she insists on meeting with you if you’re planning to buy her out and add the girls to your roster.” With a nod, we all left my office and Lino locked it behind him. Since we didn’t talk business in public, unless we used it as an intimidation tactic, we walked in silence. I'd be damned if I lost money for someone running his mouth needlessly.

  VIP was halfway up to my office, with the main floor visible for the VIPs to survey like they were in charge. They got to play at having power, while Lino and I ruled over it all with an iron thumb. The woman who sat in the VIP section stood immediately when we strolled down the steps. The middle-aged woman had wrapped her body up in a white pencil skirt and elegant black blouse. She’d styled her blond hair into a perfect updo, showing that she was the epitome of class, despite what was a rather questionable profession.

  Criminal, if we were being honest.

  She was in good company.

  Two younger, equally high-class women flanked her, and I knew from a glance at them they were two samples of the product she offered in her stable. The brunette looked vaguely familiar, and I knew it was possible I'd had her before. But my tendency toward brunettes with big lips meant they blended together.

  Except for the only one that mattered.

  The other, a stunning African American woman, smiled at me demurely.

  Like there was any fooling the man who was looking to buy the rights to her pussy. None of us were innocent, and a coy smile couldn't have fooled the devil in that scenario.

  "They're pretty," I said, gesturing for the women to take their seats. The brunette stayed standing, but the other two sat gracefully. I took my seat across from them, not even glancing away when my Uncle and Lino sat on either side of me. "How do I know they're any good?"

  "Would you like to sample the merchandise?" the madam asked, giving me a humorous smile. "If these two aren't to your liking, I can assure you I have a wide variety. We could arrange an appointment." I considered it momentarily but decided that professionals weren't likely to have what I was looking for.

  No one did.

  I turned a glance Lino's way, silently asking if he wanted to give either of them a go. He shook his head, surprising me. Lino was normally much less particular about his bed partners than I was, so a freebie with a professional was right up his alley. I knew whatever had happened with Samara that he'd needed me to cover for him, it must have been big. He'd been in love with her for as long as I could remember. His best friend. The daughter of his father's housekeeper. I knew better than to mention her with Uncle Gabriele around. The women we protected were not on the tolerated list of discussion topics, not when Gabriele would threaten them if we so much as hinted at exploring something real with them. The brunette climbed into my lap, perching on my knee as if she belonged there.

  I fought the urge to bristle. I didn't enjoy being touched, outside of what was necessary to get off. Cuddling was not my style, and for that reason I never had sex with a woman in a bed of any kind. The last bed I'd had sex in had been in High School, and if I had anything to do with it that would be the last time.

  The only time I'd ever made love.

  "You don't have to pay me," the brunette whispered. "Like last time. You were so good; I'll give it to you for free again." I turned a cold glare her way, not reacting when she flinched back and nearly fell off my lap.

  "I don't do seconds," I hissed, and she nodded meekly, returning to take the seat next to her employer. "I'll send a few of my guys over to your stables tomorrow. They'll pay; I don't like men who expect freebies from the girls they run. If they're impressed, then we can meet again to discuss the possibility of expanding my existing operations."

  "Yes, Mr. Bellandi. Thank you for your time." The woman was smart, I gave her that. She stood, extending a hand for me to shake and then the three of them were off.

  I stood, nodding to Lino with a look that communicated that we would have a conversation about Samara the next day. "I've arranged a date for you with Luca Morelli's daughter, Elena. You're taking her to dinner tomorrow," my Uncle ordered.

  "No, I'm not." There was no inflection in my voice, nothing to betray my annoyance at his constant interference with my love life.

  "She's a good match, beautiful, and she knows exactly what we expect of her because her father's in the life. It's time you choose an appropriate match to continue your family line. You need a suc
cessor," he argued, blocking my path when I moved to leave.

  "No, I don't. Lino can take over if something happens to me. We've had this discussion before, and I will not marry someone I don't care for just to appease your insecurities about the future of this family. I couldn't have the one I wanted, so now I just won't have anyone at all." With my monotone rant over, I shoved past my Uncle and made my way down the steps to the main club floor. After navigating gyrating bodies, only of the ones too wasted to realize they were standing in the path of a predator, I made my way out the side door and was grateful to find Donatello already waiting. How the man was always exactly where I needed him, I'd never know, but I wouldn't take it for granted either. We slid into my Aston Martin, and I drove through the streets of Chicago on the way back to my manor outside the city.

  Three

  Ivory

  My lungs heaved as I pushed, telling myself just a bit farther. I'd taken my regular route, pushing my speed faster than my usual jog. Something in me had woken up that morning needing to run, needing that feeling of exhaustion that could only come from a too-strenuous workout. I could have hit the gym instead; I was positive Sadie would love the opportunity to beat my ass into fighting shape.

  Normally I might have taken her up on it, but the bucket list series for my food blog, A Dash of Sass, had propelled the blog from paying the bills to insanity what seemed like overnight. I didn't have time for a run, but damn if I’d give it up. I needed the blankness that came with a hard run, nothing but the ache in my legs and not enough air in my lungs.

  I passed the park on my left, hooking a right onto 111th Street and passing Sadie's gym. Finally giving in, I slowed to a stop, catching my breath with my hands on my knees to rest. After a brief pause, I picked up a walk, pulling my phone out and turning off the music in favor of pressing it to my ear and dialing my mom when I saw she'd called me.

  "Hello," her familiar, airy voice answered.

  "Hey, it's me," I wheezed.

  There was a brief pause, "are you running again?"

  "Oh, for the love of God, mom. We've been through this," I argued with a chuckle as I passed another jogger I recognized from my daily runs. He smiled at me, and I returned it. I didn't know the guy's name, but I could tell you at exactly what time in the morning he hit the corner of 111th & South Trumbull. He was cute, all lean and tall with a mop of blond hair on his head and a kind smile.

  I'd long since stopped caring how much of a fright I must look when he saw me every day, already two miles into my run by the time we crossed paths. "I just don't think it's safe for a young woman to be out running alone like that. Dad and I can get you a treadmill if it's about the money. We have some saved up."

  "Ugh, no," I groaned. "It's not the money. I hate running in one place. It takes the fun out of it."

  "Fine. Just be careful, please," she pleaded, and I resisted my chuckle in the face of her genuine concern. As an only child, my parents worried far too much about my safety.

  They also worried far too much about my lack of a husband and family.

  Saying they wanted to be grandparents would be an understatement.

  "You're coming to dinner tonight, right?" she asked, and I shook my head at her with a huff of laughter. It was Sunday. They usually came over to my place mid-week, but Sundays had always—and would forever—be my mother's territory. She wouldn't even give it up to her "fancy chef daughter."

  "Yep, I'll see you tonight, okay? I'm about to go into the bank."

  "Okay, sweetheart. Love you."

  "Love you too, bye." I hung up, feeling appreciation for my meddling mother and father. Even when they were sticking their noses into my love life—which they no longer did too often after setting me up on too many failed dates with their friends' sons—they meant well. They meant the best.

  They'd just been head over heels in love for too long to consider the possibility of love not being meant for me. I didn't have a soulmate.

  That didn't mean I had to be alone.

  I walked into the bank with my phone in my hand, emitting a long, low groan when I only made it a few feet inside.

  People crowded the interior, to the point I could barely see the front of the line from my place at the back.

  Didn’t anybody work normal business hours anymore? I'd thought having an unusual profession would work to my advantage, but so many people mid-morning was just one more sign of the way the workforce in Chicago was changing. I took my place in line behind a middle-aged woman, who gave me a sympathetic smile, undoubtedly having had the same reaction when she walked in only a few moments prior.

  I pulled out my phone and stared down the screen as I scanned through all my unaddressed social media notifications. I couldn’t keep up with it all anymore. The blog had officially gotten away from me with its success, and while the money was fantastic, I needed to consider hiring a social media manager to take that element off my hands.

  I didn't bother looking back when the door opened behind me. With the crowd already in there, it stood to reason that the door was revolving.

  “Nobody move!” a male voice yelled from the doorway. A woman screamed, and I turned back to find three men standing just inside the door, black ski masks covering their heads and AK-47’s in hand. My phone dropped to the floor in shock as one man used a gun to hit the security guard in the face where he stood frozen. I jolted in place from the sound of my phone hitting the floor, bending down to snatch it up. Even in that moment, I appreciated my expensive, protective case. Usually it was water damage or food that the case saved my phone from, but I supposed bank floors worked too.

  Two of the men moved to the tellers with bags, while the other stood guarding the door. “Everybody in the corner!” he yelled, and the crowd scurried over quickly.

  I couldn't say what possessed me to do it, but as everyone else attempted to hide behind each other and be as small as possible, I threw my shoulders back and stood tall. An elderly woman shuffled her way over, fidgeting with her walker in her hurry to comply with the orders of the bank robber watching us pointedly. I took her arm, giving it a reassuring pat as we left the walker in favor of getting her into the corner.

  "Thank you, dear," she said with a shaky sigh, patting my arm when I'd maneuvered her into the corner. I nodded, shoving my phone into my jacket pocket finally and making my way over to grab her walker. After just a few seconds of standing without it, it was clear that the woman needed it for stability.

  "Get back in the fucking corner," the man at the door warned, deep brown eyes peeking out from the holes in his ski mask as he glared at me.

  "She needs the walker. That's all," I placated, holding my hands out in front of me to show I wasn't a threat. Though admittedly, if a guy with a really big gun was concerned about me then we had definitely entered backward land.

  "She'll live." He pointed his gun at me, and I flinched and ignored the whimper a woman behind me released at the prospect of the gun being turned on the hostages.

  "Fine. Be a douchebag. I mean, you are robbing a bank obviously, but it takes a special brand of asshole to leave an elderly woman without her walker," I mumbled, unsure what exactly had come over me. The others behind me were afraid, and so was I. But I was also just pissed. There was no way I would die without ever being loved, especially not shot full of holes in a fucking bank robbery.

  Though, if I didn't shut my mouth that might happen regardless of how I felt about it.

  Instead of firing the gun, I watched as the man's chest shook with laughter. He lowered the gun and tipped his head at me. "By all means, go ahead. I wouldn't want to add asshole to my rap sheet, sweet thing," he drawled, and I bristled.

  I had a feeling I'd fucked up.

  Regardless, my feet carried me the extra distance until I wrapped my hands around the walker. A hand landed on the other side when I moved to lift it, and with a nervous swallow I turned my face up to glare at the robber staring down at me with amusement dancing in his eyes.

&nb
sp; When our eyes connected, his eyes narrowed, and the amusement fled. It was rather comical to watch whatever was passing through his mind as the thoughts were so very visible on his face even when I could hardly see it. “Ivory?” he asked. I froze at the sound of my name on his lips.

  “Do-do I know you?” I stuttered in shock.

  “No. No, of course not,” he said, stepping back a few steps and backing his way toward the door. “Time to go! Now!” he yelled to his friends.

  Why I couldn't just let him leave, I'll never know, but my curiosity had me pressing forward, somehow convinced he wouldn't hurt me after whatever he'd realized. “How do you know my name?” He backed away so quickly that he nearly tripped over his own feet, his eyes wide with fear.

  “Tell him we didn’t know. Never would have done this if we’d known you were here. Never. Make sure he knows we didn’t touch you, yeah?” His buddies’ eyes widened as they looked at me, seemingly as lost as I was. They fled out the door regardless, hopping into a van waiting at the curb.

  “But I don’t understand. Tell who?”

  “Bellandi. Tell Bellandi it’s all good.” He hustled out the door without another glance back leaving me with only one question.

  Matteo.

  How the hell did a bank robber know my high school boyfriend?

  Four

  Ivory

  The next few hours passed by in a blur of police interviews and news cameras shoved into my face as I tried to escape the insanity of the scene that followed the robbery. To say the police wanted to know my connection to Matteo Bellandi had been putting it lightly, and they were disbelieving and disappointed to find that I hadn’t had one in twelve fucking years. My heart stuttered in my chest. I'd never thought to see Matteo again, and honestly after what he'd done to me, that was for the best. I couldn't say how I'd react.

  Would I still love him? Would he still take my breath away? Would I hate him? What if I didn't care about him either way? Then what excuse did I have to hide behind when I just couldn't fall in love with someone?