Romeo The Mafia Casanova

Romeo’s [POV]

now it was almost comical. A week ago, I was washing blood off my hands.

This morning I was dropping off a six-year-old who didn’t understand the concept of taking a breath in between words and fighting traffic with multiple minivans and angry moms in head-to-toe high-end yoga garb.

“… so then I told Jude that his Magnatiles were newer than mine, so they were better, and then I asked Mom for more Magnatiles, and she said I had to earn them, so I cleaned my room but got in trouble for shoving my Lunchable under my bed and forgetting about it, and that’s how I got grounded- Hey, Uncle Romeo, do you think that-”

I clapped my hand slowly across his mouth as I maneuvered the car into the drop-off lane.

The clever little heathen was still attempting to talk even with my hand in place.

I removed it.

“-do you think that it’s fair that Mom-”

I put my hand back again. “Fascinating,” I chuckled to myself. “Since it’s boy day and I’m a boy, shouldn’t I get to talk?”

Naz let out a dramatic sigh. “Sure, I guess. Even though you’re a man.”

“Your mom said to wait until you made it into the school. Do you have your backpack?”

“Check” He grinned and held up his blue and orange backpack.

“Lunch?” I put the car in park.

“Yup!” He shot me another toothy grin.

“And homework?”

His face fell. “I hate homework.”

“Yes, well, we all have our crosses to bear,” I murmured. “Yours is homework, and mine is trying to get out of the drop-off line without any of the single moms trapping me against my will.”

Naz laughed, “You’re funny, Uncle Romeo. Just drive fast, and they won’t trap you, duh!”

“Duh,” I repeated. “How had I not thought of that? You’re so smart.”

“I know.” His sigh said it was a burden to be that smart, and I nearly laughed again but wasn’t sure his fragile ego could handle it.

“Be good.” I cleared my throat awkwardly. Hell, I was seconds away from patting him on the head. Was I that bad with kids? My nephew even? “And um, make… good life choices.”

Son of a bitch, shoot me now.

Naz opened the car door and then called over his shoulder. “You make good life choices too,” And then, as he hopped out of the car, he yelled, “Have fun cleaning the money!”

I winced as several horrified parents glanced in my direction.

“Yup.” I winked. “Love you, little man.”

“You too, Uncle Romeo!”

He skipped past a few women who were currently huddled in a circle sipping Starbucks. Whispers were exchanged among them, and then one turned toward me and started power walking.

“Oh, fuck no.” I waited until Naz was inside the school, quickly pulling out of the drop-off line and hitting the accelerator to get the hell out of there.

It was a quick drive to the club.

Debase had been and always would be one of the clubs that stole pieces of your soul each time you visited. The original club was in Chicago, and this one had just opened a few months ago.

Owned by Andrei Sinacore, it was a front to help rescue as many women from trafficking as physically possible, but Andrei had to look like a monster to do so. He couldn’t save everyone, which meant he had to at least keep a few of the women to serve a purpose.

None of them were tortured, but they were numbered instead of named. Stripping them of their identity. They lived out their days in luxury, but did it matter? When you weren’t living but using your body to survive? Kept as though they were no more than chattel? He looked the other way, we all did, because we justified the fact that he saved at least ninety percent of them.

The ten percent he couldn’t save haunted him, it haunted me, and I hated the reminder as I pulled into the parking lot. I was the underboss, so I was just as tainted with the blood as he was. At night I swear I could sometimes hear their screams, their pleas for help.

And every time, I looked the other way.

Another reason I had never deserved Eden.

When a woman asked for help-you answered the call; you didn’t pretend you couldn’t hear her. But that’s what was asked of me, to pretend.

I pretended with the women.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

And I even pretended with Eden.

Fuck.

I was damned to Hell.

Already in a shit mood, I got out of my car and made my way past security and into the club.

It was still early, but that didn’t matter, not in a place like this. A few men in suits were scattered around the VIP section, drinking, and watching while scantily clad women danced around them, clinging to poles, thrusting their tits out to get a bigger tip.

With a sigh, I looked away and went straight to the heart of the club, where I knew Andrei would be waiting. Swear that man had the uncanny ability to guess when I was going to visit; he always had a glass of whiskey ready for me as if he’d been lying in wait. If he wasn’t so young and semi-likable, he’d be a threat.

Then again, he’d always been a threat to the Five Families. He had the ear of the Russians since he was half, and he controlled one of the oldest Italian families in the world-mafia royalty.

The rest of us would always be less than, regardless of our bloodlines, regardless of the kills I had under my belt. My cousin would always hold the world in his hands, and he would always suspect that I wanted the same thing, which meant playing nice, so he didn’t think I was going to slit his throat one day and steal his throne.

The only positive was that he knew I didn’t want that power; I was better in the dungeon killing his enemies, getting my hands dirty to not think about the fact that I’d lost my heart, my fucking soul long ago to a woman who still had trouble looking at me.

I nodded at Ax, Andrei’s guard. “He is?”

Ax smirked. “When is he not in?”

“He said something about-”

“Not here.” Ax jerked open the door to the personal office of the Sinacore boss. It clicked shut behind me, sealing us away from the world.

The office was massive, with a black leather couch to the right. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases surrounded the room, and a wet bar stood near the mahogany desk Andrei sat at.

There were no windows.

No visible exits but one.

With several cameras trained on me along with a few guns. I couldn’t see them though it didn’t mean they weren’t there.

“Always a pleasure,” I grumbled under my breath as Andrei leaned back in his chair, his golden blonde hair like a halo crowning his head.

Long elegant fingertips gripped a glass of whiskey before he slowly slid it toward me. “Sit.”

I took the whiskey in hand and sat on the black leather chair facing him. “Any news?”

His grin was a bit too menacing.

His demeanor was a bit too relaxed.