Screwing the Mob

Chapter One - Nico

"You have a lot of responsibilities now, Nico, but I know you can handle things for the family. And I'll be right next to you, making sure you don't fuck anything up."

My chest tightens as the distinctive scent of lilies fills my lungs. Tears spring to my eyes are I force back the sneeze that's fighting its way out. I look around at the overflowing baskets and standing arrangements that almost outnumber the mourners packed into this massive room. I can barely see the walls, only cascading leaves and countless flowers whose pollen has declared war on my eyes, nose, and throat.

I guess to some it might make me appear more vulnerable...human almost, but I prefer my signature stoic facade. Nobody has access to the inside. Not anymore. Not since—

I grit my teeth.

Nobody.

People dressed in black are lined up for what seems like a mile, out the door of the viewing room and maybe even the door to the funeral home.

Grandpa was loved. Feared. Hated.

But above all? Respected.

He may not have always made the popular choice or been the most politically correct speaker, but he was strong – in his convictions, in his words, and in his values. He never strayed from them, and that's always something he preached to me from when I was a little boy.

"Life ain't easy, Nico. You may get scared sometimes, you may not know the right decision to make. But let your inner strength shine through. You can do anything if you believe in yourself. And if you believe in yourself, everyone else will believe in you too."

My eyes fall to his face. His eyes are closed, and I know he's finally reunited with Grandma Lou. That brings me some peace. Not a hell of a lot, but some.

He was my confidante, I was his right hand and protégé. He taught me so much through the years, put my ass in its place more often than not, and peppered me with more pearls of wisdom than I can count. A stinging sensation assaults my eyes, but I refuse to bring a hand to them. I don't want anyone to mistake this reaction for sadness. Goddamn pollen.

I've allowed myself weak moments and now they're bottled up, buried down deep. I have to be strong, even though the sadness and loss is eating me alive a little more each passing day. I still can't believe he's gone. He was sitting right next to me, only a couple of days earlier, playing poker and robbing my dad of every last cent he had after dessert on Christmas night. He'd pounded his chest and complained of heartburn after the massive holiday meal my mother had prepared for us. Then he laughed and pulled my little sister Lily onto his lap, claiming my mom's cooking was worth a little bit of pain.

Then he said goodnight to all of us and left. He drove home by himself. He let himself into his house. He changed for bed. And he dropped dead of a heart attack when he'd reached the top of the stairs.

That's where I found him the next day when I came by to pick him up for his doctor's appointment. That was the one thing he'd allowed me to do for him. He was always horrible at relaying information, so he let me tag along so another pair of ears could hear the doctors' assessments. But drive him home when the roads were icy and pitch black? Hell no. He craved that independence. It fed his mind strength as his body grew weaker.

Merry fucking Christmas.

A hand grazes my arm, and the awful scent of funeral flowers is replaced with something equally atrocious. I can't place it, but it makes my stomach roll. I sniff once and turn my head away from the casket.

Huge tits rub against my suit jacket as Adria Moreno slips in closer, her breath hot on my neck as she whispers her condolences along with some other things that I'm sure has Grandpa cheering from his perch in heaven. And thank God my parents have hold of Lily and are mingling, not paying a sliver of attention to Adria's traveling hands in this most inappropriate setting fathomable. Jesus, the woman is relentless. A complete sex addict, no matter the circumstances. if I so much as said the word, I could have her bent over in the coat closet right now, pounding her ass.

"I've never seen you so devastated, babe." Adria reaches a hand behind me, under my jacket, over my ass where it settles. Thankfully my back is to the wall and not the crowd of people milling around the room. "Do you want me to come over later? I can make you feel better."

Angel, her twin sister, sidles up to my other side and whispers in my other ear. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. Tell us what you need. Let us help you through this."

Okay, Grandpa is definitely having a laugh up there. This must be his way of diffusing the situation. He was always a little unorthodox, but this is taking that to an extreme. Standing next to my dead grandfather while getting propositioned for a threesome...it's fucking sick.

Not that threesomes are not atypical for me. Hell, I've fucked three-quarters of the women in this room, often two at a time. My eyes scout the crowd, and my throat tightens when she walks through the doors. Her blue eyes are filled with tears, her pouty pink lips quivering. But hard as I try to focus on her sun-kissed face, my eyes break free and rake over her tight body.

She's back.

I'd forced her away like the asshole I am, regretting my decision every damn day since then. It was my way of protecting her, but at what cost? And now she's here, just like I knew she would be, and I have no fucking idea what to do about it.

I swallow hard, fighting hard against the memory of her lips on mine, but I fail. Miserably. I can still feel her pressed against me, her eager tongue coiling with mine with such hope...hope I effectively shattered. My cock twitches, and I silence a groan. Just add it to the list of things I never thought I'd experience under these circumstances.

Then I see something that makes me limper than a strand of overcooked spaghetti. Rocco Lucchese, my long and very lost cousin, appears from a corner of the room and slides an arm around her narrow waist, dropping a kiss onto her cheek. An icy cold sensation snakes around my heart. Sonofabitch.

Now I know for sure that Grandpa is taunting me.