The Power of a Woman: A Mafia Erotic Romance (4 page)

“Why would Matty be in debt with them when we have just as much money? If he needed it that badly, he could’ve come to you…right?” It was a risky question, but I threw caution to the wind and asked anyway. My mind spun, trying to sort everything out.

My father leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the armrest. I knew that look. He did it when debating what to say, or how to phrase his words. “He came to me and asked for money. I gave him some. When he came back for more a week later, I denied him. I thought he was just blowing it on girls again, trying to impress them like he always does. I had no idea he was going to some back-alley bookie. I never thought he’d go to the Carraras to place bets. And I certainly didn’t think he’d go to the Giannottis to get the money behind my back.”

Had the moment not been so serious and heavy, I would have laughed in his face. His theory of men and women just blew up in his lap. But I couldn’t smile. I couldn’t be selfish about this because it was so serious. Not only do we not take kindly to unpaid debt, it made it worse that his unpaid debt was owed to an opposing family. Business was cutthroat as it was, add in serious competition, and it’d equal a bloodbath.

The Giannottis were responsible for most of the running numbers and loan-sharking within a two hundred mile radius of us. My family was responsible for pretty much all the underground bets—the other bookies were the Carraras. They were a small family, and not much of a threat to us…unless one of our own played in their sandbox. The seriousness wasn’t so much them, as it was the money owed to Stefan’s family. If it were only a few unsettled bets placed with the Carraras, we could handle that no problem. But from what it sounded like to me, behind those bets was a mound of collecting debt to a family you never wanted to cross.

“Then pay it off. What are you waiting for?” My tone was hard and accusing, both of which I’m sure he didn’t appreciate. No one spoke to Gene Albanese that way, regardless of bloodline.

“Five hundred is what he borrowed. That’s not including the vig. It would take too much time to come up with that kind of money. They’ve given us a week. I’d need longer.” And of course, the Giannotti’s vig—the interest—was astronomical; it was their way of ensuring they got paid. Smart play on their part, yet dire consequences for those who owed it.

“Okay. So, let me see what I can do. I can check the books at the clubs and see how much we can come up with.” I slid to the edge of my seat, ready to do what was needed to get my brother out of the mess he made.

Daddy shook his head firmly and leaned forward with his elbows on his desk, his fingers steepled in front of his face. “No, Jordana. I’ve already checked those books. Most of the money is already tied up in other obligations. Taxes, payouts, wages… You know we keep those businesses on the up and up.”

Yeah…otherwise, you would’ve never let me handle them.

“Well, there has to be money somewhere. We aren’t poor.”

“You’re right. We aren’t. But to pull that kind of money out of our asses will raise red flags all over the place.” He was right. Suddenly pulling together close to a million dollars would have the feds at our front door in a heartbeat.

I closed my eyes, knowing he needed my help, but he’d never ask. It would cross the line. I couldn’t help him move money around safely without seeing the real books—the illegal ones. And he’d never offer those up.

“Let me see them.” I held my hand out, and he knew exactly what I meant by it.

He shook his head, at war with himself over family versus la familia. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman? If I were your son you’d have no problem handing it over. This is life or death, Daddy. Are you really going to keep me from doing what I do best—move money around—just because you don’t want to show me the family business ends of things? Even if that means Matteo’s life? Admit it…no one knows numbers more than I do.”

With an exhausted huff, he pulled a Bible from the bottom drawer of his desk. He hesitated for a moment before handing it over to me. I’d never seen it before, but I’d always known of its existence. It was the Holy Grail. And he kept it in a Bible.

I flipped it open, finding the thin pages filled with small print—my father’s tiny lettering. Nothing made sense, everything written in code. I would never be able to decipher any of it without his help.

“Only look at the numbers. You don’t need to pay any attention to anything else,” he ordered, his voice stiff and cold as if it tortured him to his core knowing my eyes were on his book. Not just
my
eyes…but the eyes of a female. He probably thought of it as disgraceful.

“Without knowing what these codes mean, how am I supposed to figure out where it’s coming from?”

“Black is in, red is out.”

My hands gripped the worn edges of the book as anger took over, my pulse pounding in my ears. “You think I don’t know how to read a check and balance sheet? I do this for all your clubs. I’m well aware of color coding, but I need to know what accounts these are, not what’s coming or going. Would it kill you to give me a little credit?”

My father ran his weathered hands down his face, took a deep breath, and then hung his head. “Dammit, Jordana. The numbers starting with ‘KA’ are bank accounts. Those are the only ones you need to worry about.”

I stared at the numbers in front of me. Pages and pages of codes. Money going in multiple accounts, and money coming out. “You have the money here. It’s right here in all these lines that start with ‘KA.’ I’m not understanding what the issue is.”

“The banks, Jordana. You’re a smart enough girl.” The man finally gave me the credit I’d asked for, yet it was some sort of backhanded compliment—not exactly what I’d sought.

“You’re right. I am. I understand money, I understand banks. What I don’t understand is this fucking code you won’t explain to me. If I can’t read it, how the hell am I supposed to fix it?”

His face turned red as he reached across the desk and snatched the book out of my hands. I knew I’d gone too far with my language, but I wasn’t able to control it. He had a way of talking down to me, and I couldn’t stand anything more than to be spoken to like an ingrate. I wouldn’t put up with it no matter who it was, father or not.

The tone of his voice dropped to dangerous levels as he said, “The only thing you need to know is that they’re not all the same bank. You don’t need to understand which banks, or what accounts they’re in.”

And that I understood. You could transfer money all day long from one account to the next within the same bank, but you couldn’t move money fast enough from one country to the next without the wrong attention being brought to you. And you never keep all your money in one location. Many different banks in many different countries, all of which had to be offshore accounts where the funds couldn’t be traced. That way, if one account was flagged and frozen, you weren’t fucked. Except now, having the funds but not all together fucked us. Dammed if you do…dammed if you don’t.

“I didn’t ask you here to dig through my business. I’ve already done that. I only called you here to tell you that this is serious and possibly dangerous. I need you to go to the shore house for the week. Just until I’ve gotten it figured out.”

I could feel my eyebrows pinch together and my spine straighten. I could only imagine what I looked like to him. Angry? Defiant? “I don’t understand why I can’t just stay here. I mean, you’ll have your goons watching my every move as it is. Why can’t they watch me here instead of shipping me away for them to watch me there?”

His fist came down hard on the solid wood of his desk and the dark skin on his face lit up red like a burning flame. “Do not argue with me, Jordana Marie Albanese.” The full name. That meant business. “I need all my men here. I need their eyes on Matteo. I need them to make sure he’s safe until this is all sorted out. That’s why I need you at the shore house where I know you’ll be safe. No one knows about its location. It’s the only place I trust you when I can’t keep an eye on you myself.”

I held back my smile, knowing I’d just won. “Fine, Daddy. Whatever you think is best.” I knew to keep my mouth closed and go along with whatever he had to say. He’d never see my point, or give in to me, no matter the solutions I could come up with. I could get the debt taken care of, but he’d never hear of it. So why waste my breath?

Women were highly underestimated. Especially in the kind of life we came from. We were Daddy’s girls. We batted our lashes and gave puppy eyes and angelic smiles. We called our fathers “Daddy” and they viewed at us as innocent. With the right words, the right look, and a perfectly sweet tone, we got our way. It was something we learned very early on, usually before we could walk. Men never caught on.
Yet they’re the brains
.

I had no intention of going to the shore house. Even as I agreed with him, I had my own plans. My own ways of saving this family. They could have their feet and brains and soul. I didn’t need them.

I am a woman, and I have the one thing men never will—I have my pussy. And if there’s one thing men love to eat more than spaghetti, it’s pussy.

Go ahead, Daddy, use your body parts to get Matty out of this one.

I’ll use mine.

And we’ll see who ends up the winner
.

The central members’ only hangout was above the A&S pork store and meat market—a local Italian butcher shop. The sign displayed “social club.” However, if you weren’t a member of the Giannottis’ crew, you were
not
welcomed. Duplicity at its finest. A heavy presence of gangsters mulled around the doorway, making it impossible for the average person to purchase any provisions at the adjacent pork store. Of course, if you were Italian, entrance to the butcher was much easier. However, most people just avoided it, not wanting to drag their children in for a piece of bologna. I smiled. Fond memories of my Nana bringing me into the pork store flooded me. That slice of bologna or Genoa salami was such a treat. My world seemed simpler then. Untainted from the ugliness I had yet to discover about the world around me. I hung a U-turn and double-parked right in front to piss them off. Fuck it. I needed to make a statement. A formidable one.

I had one chance.

And one chance only.

With my father keeping me out of the loop and no way to handle this on his own, I had to step in. My understanding of money wouldn’t come in handy, but my understanding of the male mind would.

I swung my legs out slowly and closed the door with a bang, leaving the keys in the ignition. No one would dare steal my car. That wasn’t an option. Not in this neighborhood. I shook out my hair and adjusted my sunglasses as I walked confidently to the group of wise guys loitering about on the sidewalk.

One by one, each man stepped forward, sadistically eager to shame me. Shame—an achingly familiar emotion to me now. I focused on the prize…goal. Two things happened in rapt succession: empowerment flooded my system due to the contemplation of forced humiliation, and then heated desire burned and singed my most sensitive parts. Well-hidden knowledge of my voyeuristic proclivities and the effect of forced degradation left me with a pair of soaked panties. I writhed under the glare of others, loving every second of it. I smirked in the face of my handlers. Their cheap suits and dollar-bathroom cologne had my eyes rolling—hard. Stopping short of showing how to really humiliate someone, I decided I’d roll through again and have some fun with the fuck-nuts at a later date. I filed that shit away with the others on my to-do list. Surely, I’d have the last laugh.
Ah, the power of a woman
. The thought had me laughing inwardly. Little did these fuckers know, they were dealing with a kaleidoscope of raw, sadistic need. Hell, I put the “
S
” in sadism.

And when I plan to bring it, you better back the fuck up.

“We done here?” I said, feigned disinterest dripping from my tongue.

The wiry one with a chipped tooth stepped forward. “Hardly.” His smile was sardonic and caused me to cringe—not out of fear, but out of complete repulsion.

I rolled my eyes, but not before stepping into him, slowly moving my hand to cup his dick. His erection was pronounced, and slightly impressive, so I allowed my hand to work it longer than initially planned. While fondling his balls in one hand, I reached between my thighs and made a show of grabbing myself—comparing.

I pulled my glossy lips to his ear, taking in a heavy breath of his overpowering cologne, and said, “As intimidating as you are standing out here, my balls are still bigger.” I backed away, keeping my hand cupping my sex, and watched as he adjusted his obvious hard-on. Withdrawing my hand from myself, I flicked my wrist and flipped him off. A myriad of emotions played on his face—anger, gall, and dare I say…awe?

With my work here done, I casually said, “I’ll see the boss now.” I gently slapped chipped tooth’s face while the other two looked on. He didn’t move, just blinked. “Oh, that
was
a directive. Not a question, love,” I corrected, walking past him into the building.
Incompetence
, I shuddered to myself.