Tempted By the Mafia Boss Novel – I don’t know how long she’s been standing there… All I know is that I like what I see. I picked this office, high up on the fifth floor of the club, for the opulent floor-to-ceiling windows that boast a great view of the powerful Chicago skyline. Today, it graces me with the view of this beauty. I’ve been gazing at her through the window for the last ten minutes, and I definitely like what I see. Angel. The beautiful woman outside my club looks like an angel with her delicate features and ethereal beauty. Or like she belongs on a shelf display of porcelain dolls. Her physical presence is exactly that. Angelic and doll-like. Angel…doll. That works perfectly because I’m the devil. People think because I do the books, I’m not as ruthless as some of the others in the business. Like I wouldn’t hesitate to pop a bullet between some poor prick’s eyes.
They’re wrong. I’m the devil, and I like this beauty who’s been distracting out of me. Maybe it was the angel’s magical call that lured me to look in the first place and get sucked into the distraction of her. Although distraction is the last thing I should be thinking about, it’s exactly what I need right now. It’s food for the soul. Food for my soul given my current situation, and this angel compels me to take a break from the thing. Her presence feels like a refuge. Temptation. And as the devil, I’m not known for resisting sin. Besides, devil or not, who could resist the lure of a beautiful woman? And, one that looks like her. I can’t imagine any other man would disagree with me if they took a look at the platinum-haired beauty who’d decided it was a good idea to cross paths with me today. She’s just standing there. That is all she’s doing.
Standing by the steps leading up to the club’s entrance wearing a black blazer over a little navy summer dress that hugs her perfect frame and accentuates her curves. It looks like she intended on donning the blazer to carry a more professional look. I’m not sure if she realizes, though, that no man with eyes would care about her attire. A woman like that could wear a garbage bag and still draw attention to her body for the simple reason that it was made for sin. Serious sinning. Just the thought hardens my shaft. Why is she just standing there though? Is she waiting for someone? I don’t know. Mostly, I’m not sure I care about the why. What I want is for her to come inside. Come inside so I can get a better look. Take a good look at those piercing eyes set above her high, exotic cheekbones. I want to take a better look at her body and get up close and personal to see if those boobs of hers are real.
I think they are. I’m usually good at knowing right off the bat, but she needs to come closer. In a club like this you become a quick study with anything like that. If she comes in here, I don’t care who she belongs to. I won’t care if she belongs to Pa himself, with his host of sluts at his beck and call while Ma pretends she’s okay with it. Why? Because Pa’s the boss of the Giordano family, and the boss can do whatever he wants. Not this trip. I wouldn’t care who this woman belonged to.She looks completely out of place standing there. I don’t think she’s been here before. I would remember her, and if she were coming here for pleasure, I doubt she’d just be standing there watching. We don’t open for another couple of hours, and even then, the crowd tends to roll in around nine or ten. So…I don’t know what would bring her to The Dark Odyssey, but her visit would be most welcome.
A smile inches across my face—I must look like the Joker or some kind of psychotic madman. Maybe I have finally lost my mind. Maybe this is it. I’m standing at the window watching a woman I don’t know. I’m planning all the ways I want to devour her, and I’m smiling to myself. All opposites of what I should be feeling. Should… I hate that word with a vengeance because it intends to dictate logic and principles. I hate anything like that. It goes against me. On this occasion though… in my current situation, I’ll let it slide. What I should be feeling now is fear, and I hate that emotion more than anything. Two weeks ago, Tommy got gunned down at his home. His wife and newborn son were upstairs when it happened. He’s my best friend and as close to me as my brothers are. I think I must have experienced every emotion under the sun as my guys and I searched for the harpy who thought they could get away with doing that. Anger, sadness, grief, helplessness, the thirst for revenge.
All of it took me, as we searched the streets and came up with nothing. Nothing… Impossible given who we are, and fear is right there in the back of my mind because I could lose Tommy. It actually seems like I might. He’s been in a coma, and it isn’t looking good. The doctors couldn’t even manage our expectations, other than telling us he could go at any time. I might only be the business’s accountant—my brothers and I are good with numbers—but saying I want revenge is an understatement. What I want is blood and heads to roll. Tommy is the best of us. I’ve known him since we were boys. We met at five years old. Went to school together and worked together. I don’t have a single memory that doesn’t involve him. Since our families are close too, he was always like a brother to me. His father worked for Pa and handled the alliance between the Rossi family so we could have access to the docks for our shipping company. We take care of it now with Claudius Morientz, the new boss.
The shipping company is where we all work now. The day job. When I’m not at the club. While my brothers and I do the accounts, moving numbers around to make everything look legit, Tommy does the same work his father did in arranging the exports, imports, and liaison with our alliances. He’s a guy you can trust.He’s the kind of guy you could trust with your money and your life. I don’t know what kind of thing he got into, but it wasn’t good. Looked like someone hired a hit on him, just like what happened to Frankie. That Tommy never told me he might have been in trouble boils my blood. He has a wife and a child who could have gotten caught up. I’m not a family man. No way. I respect it though. I did with him.
Somehow, this feels worse, and I’m ashamed to say it gets to me more than when Frankie was killed—Frankie was my eldest brother, so I should feel worse about his death. This rattles me more because I don’t know who did it. There are several pricks who want to mess with us but don’t. No run-of-the-mill guy simply messes with a Giordano and those associated with us. The name says it all, for the name and the alliances we have. Anyone who has the balls it would take to do it is no mere person, and that’s a whole worry on its own. In Frankie’s case, he made the first strike when he killed Stephanou Portello’s wife. We expected the hit on him even though Stephanou’s wife’s death was an accident. In my world, that word doesn’t exist.
Accident… Accidents happen, but when you belong to the world of La Cosa Nostra, accidents are the ink that signs your death certificate. What happened to Tommy was no accident. Not at all, and revenge will be sweet to me.I’m a Giordano, after all. We deal with things differently. Revenge courses through me, sweet and irresistible, like the lust I feel for this woman outside. Lust is the counterbalance that equalizes my rage. Maybe it’s strange. It’s how I work though. Probably linked to that same thing that made me set up this club. Lust makes me want to dirty this angel up with every sin in the book. Imagine it, the angel and the devil. The angel tied to my bed or on her knees all night. I hope she comes inside. —Mia Okay…. I’m ready. Ready to go in. I pull in a deep breath, hold on to it, and allow the thought to sink in. You made yourself come here and decided to go in. That must mean I’m serious. I’m going to do it. The interview. I’m going to do the interview.
Scratch that… I don’t actually have an interview yet. But I hope to get one. And, to get one, I have to actually go inside the building and make the enquiry. The building I’ve been standing outside for the last… what? I glance at my watch and see it’s been a whole hour. Geez…what must I have looked like just standing outside here? Am I that nervous? God… of course I am. It’s not every day you think, ‘Hey, I know what I’ll do. I’ll go work in an adult club owned by mobsters.’ That’s what The Dark Odyssey is. Great idea, and exactly where I’d hoped to be after investing in my legal career at Harvard. All those long years of study, starting in high school, then on to college and grad school. This is where it got me. I’m twenty-six years old. I thought I had a bright future as a lawyer, except this is where I am after all the hard work I put myself through. I thought I’d at least be a junior associate at some prestigious firm now. But no… That never happened. I saw eighteen months of my internship at Silvermans in LA before the hit the fan. None of my goals, aspirations, or dreams followed through.
Nearly though… I’d almost been there, then disaster struck and led me here. My nerves tingle, and my body shivers in response. Get it together, girl. Dad needs you. He needs you, and so does Beth. Knowing I was standing outside the entrance to The Dark Odyssey would probably push Dad further into that early grave that keeps threatening to take him— if he knew what this club was—but I’m here. Here because Chloe, my very adventurous best friend who had a flair for the risqué, told me about a potential waitressing job and said it paid very, very well. Heaps more than the recent nothing I had after using all my savings to help Dad manage the situation of Carter had dragged us all into. Carter, my no-good big brother, is a real prick with no regard for his family. None whatsoever. The first sign of his truly disgusting ways was him turning his back on Beth, his nine-year-old daughter who Dad has taken care of since she was a baby. Unwanted by her mother, who just left her on Dad’s doorstep, and Carter, who disowned her, Dad and I took care of her. That was bad, but Carter had to go and make things worse and drag us into the mother of all problems when he got himself in the worst trouble ever.
It saw Dad owing over a hundred G’s to a bunch of lords who wanted Carter’s head in a box. And that is how I got here. I’m here, and maybe this is a chance to fix things. I could stop us from losing everything. On that thought, I take a step and walk up the stairs leading to the grand oak doors. My legs wobble as I put one foot in front of the other, and I’m grateful there’s no one around to see me. Not like last night when I walked by. I didn’t see much. Being outside, I wouldn’t have, but what I did see tugged at my imagination. I’d be lying if I said my interest didn’t pique when I saw a woman with platinum-blond hair like mine being led away by two men. All were still wearing their masquerade masks from the party, and she was in her barely-there lingerie. One of the guys had his hands all over her as they moved along the pathway to get to their limo. The other man smooched her, shoved the straps of her negligee down her arms, and started sucking her breasts.
That was what I saw. Right there in the street for all to see, and they didn’t care. It was enough to give me a taste of what might go on inside. I pull in a breath as I approach the large oak doors. The one to the left is already ajar; I just have to give it a push to go inside. I pull in another deep, deep breath, push lightly, and the door swings open. Instantly, as I look ahead to the sophisticated design of the reception area, I straighten up and push my shoulders back, assuming my legal stance. I may be going in to ask for this waitressing position, but I want to look good. Cool and confident, opposite to the anxiety that roils within me. I walk inside, and my three-inch heels click-clack against the marble floor. God… it’s actual marble, like the designer couture flooring in Neiman Marcus or Nordstrom. Definitely classy, and a little odd in some respect, as I never expected a place like this to be linked to classy in the general sense. Not that I’ve been to many clubs. Or any.
It’s the unknown that’s seriously wigging me out. I take the corner and see a dark-haired woman sitting at the reception desk. She looks to be in her late twenties, or possibly early thirties. Very pretty and classy too, like the woman I saw leaving last night. She lifts her head as I come into view, and a little smile graces her porcelain face when I approach the desk. “Hi,” I say and put on my best smile. “Hello, how can I help you?” she replies, and as she smiles, I genuinely get the vibe that she’s the kind of person who strives to offer good customer service. It fits to have someone like that on reception, given the wealthy types that I’ve heard come here. “I know this is a little impromptu, but I heard there was a job opening for a waitress position.”
There’s a noticeable shift in her mood at my answer, and I realize it’s because I’ve come to ask for a job. She probably initially thought I was a patron. “Oh… um. Yes, there are a few positions. Can I ask who it was that informed you of the job?” Lord… Chloe told me this could happen, so I am prepared. “Sure, I was told to give Sal’s name. Sal Mortensen.” Oh wow… The minute I say that, the shift in her mood comes again, and it makes me wonder who Chloe has been hanging out with. She’d told me to give Sal’s name and it would be enough to get me seen. Sal is her new guy, but I’ve never met him. I don’t know who he is, but I’m happy right now because from the way that this woman reaches for the phone and looks at me with instant respect, it seems Sal’s name did the trick. “That’s fine. I’ll speak to the boss and schedule an interview,” she says and presses a button on the phone’s switchboard.
“Thank you.” The boss seems to answer straightaway, and I mentally pray for luck and cross my fingers as she starts talking. “Hey, Boss, I have a lady here who wants to know about the waitressing job. She gave Sal’s name. Can I have a date for when she can come back to meet with someone properly?” She raises her brows when he gives his answer, and my heart squeezes. “Now? Really?” Now? Christ. Okay… that’s good. That’s really good. Now would be good. In my head I’d prepped myself for an interview and dressed for it too. Now is fine for me and not something I can turn away. She hangs up, and her smile brightens. “You’re in luck. He’ll see you now. He’s in the first office on the fifth floor. There’s an elevator to the left of us.” She nods, and the smile recedes from her face. “Follow the corridor down once you get to the fifth. His is the office you first come to.” “Thanks so much.”
I smile with more gratitude than I should, then try to hold back. If there’s one thing I know, it’s to never allow people to see how desperate you are. It doesn’t matter if it’s a life or death situation. Don’t show desperation. The minute you do, you lose the upper hand or any control. I give her one last grin and follow her directions. —Mia As soon as I’m in the elevator, I go over all the sensible things I can say. I need to talk up my waitressing experience. Talk about that first. I’ll mention things like customer service and being a people person. I waitresses for five years. Before college and during, while I lived on campus. It was all to help my living expenses. I got a scholarship to Harvard, so the fees were taken care of. It was just everything else, and I was so happy to be there that I didn’t mind the work. Dad helped too because business at the time was booming.
He’s a software developer and owns his own company. Our family was doing reasonably well, and Carter wasn’t as bad as he is now. No one would have foreseen the trouble my brother would land himself in just brewing on the horizon. The elevator stops on the fifth, and as I walk through the door, the vision of the place sweeps me off my feet. The effect makes me stop in my tracks. I’m in a Venetian-style hall, with an endless gold roof and grand décor comparable to the pictures you’d see of Venice and the venues where they hold masquerade balls. I went to both Venice and Rome a few years back, so I know my imagination hasn’t gone wild. There are multiple levels and balconies. I see bars circle the dance floor. Pillars and platforms and Arabian-type cubicles with sheer curtains beautifully intertwined along the outskirts of each floor. Wow, it’s all so beautiful and classy. I’d love to look around, but I’m not here for exploring. I continue down the corridor and find the office.
The door is made of polished oak and has a sheen that glistens in the overhead lights. I knock on the door, and a deep baritone voice calls out, “Come in.” It’s the kind of voice that seeps into you and commands respect. Instantly, I wonder what the owner of the voice looks like. The boss. Is he a mob boss? Or is he just the boss as in the manager of the place? I don’t know, but I’m about to find out. I push the door open and go to smile by default, except the smile doesn’t come. It’s caught mid-expression as my brain turns to soup when my eyes land on the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life. His eyes get me first. They get me and paralyze me with a wave of desire I can’t deny. They’re an ice blue, almost silver, and glacier-like.
So light they have an otherworldly appearance in the subtle light that drifts through the window. He stares back at me with intense curiosity. It heats my body up, everywhere. He’s standing by the long French window, tall, tall at what I guess is over six feet. I’m five four, and from way over here, he seems to tower over me in height and presence. He’s well-built with muscles outlining powerful-looking shoulders, and the white button-up shirt he wears only accentuates his hard body. It’s the kind of body you’d see in a wild sexual fantasy. His face, all angles and planes, tilts to the side as he regards me, and a lock of his dark hair falls over his eye, making him look more alluring, if that were possible. Attractive, gorgeous, handsome… Those adjectives all feel like they’re lacking in description for the way I would describe this man, but they’re the only words that come to my mind. The door taps against the wall as it connects, and the slight sound registers in my brain, and!—I’m staring. I realize I’m staring at him like some kind of freak. Great first impression, Mia. Great first impression.
I’m here for an interview, and the job is one I desperately need, so staring and screwing things up is not what I need to do now. Quickly, I gather myself, even though I can’t quite get my brain to follow suit. It refuses to tell my eyes to stop staring. “Good morning…” I chime, then I remember morning went a couple of hours ago. “I mean good afternoon,” I correct quickly and blink to focus. A smile comes into his eyes. It’s like he knows I’m nervous and finds some humor in it. “Hello,” he briefly answers. I think of what his name is and remember I didn’t ask. Great. I didn’t ask for his name, and now I don’t know what to call him other than ‘The boss’. I step forward, walking into the office, and the door swings back closed with a click. “I’m Mia Chase. Thank you so much for making the time to see me. I’d love to find out more about the waitressing job here at The Dark Odyssey.” Good, I found my voice. Although I’m starting to babble. The beginning of a smile tips the corners of his full, sensual lips. Full, sensual lips that look like they were made for smooching. Like serious smooching. The kind that curls your toes and weakens you, the kind that’s so effective it speaks to the soul. I’m crazy. I’m totally crazy.
What is wrong with me? I can’t be thinking about his lips now, or stupid things like smooches. I can’t even figure out if his lips look more delicious as a full smile inches across his mouth and dances in the alluring vision of him. Why is he smiling like that? God, I hope I don’t have something on my face or in my teeth. “Would you?” he asks, like a challenge. I don’t know what he means because I’ve been too busy thinking and checking him out. “Would I…what?” I stutter. “You’d love to find out more about the waitressing job,” he clarifies. All this time, his eyes don’t leave mine. Those eyes hold me in place, exuding power, confidence, and strength. I like it, even though I shouldn’t. It’s attractive. “Yes, I used to waitress at… um… Red Lobster.” Lord, it sounds so amateur in comparison to what this place must be, but since it’s the bulk of my experience, I have to talk it up.
I was there for three and a half years and only worked at the student union restaurant at Harvard for eighteen months because Dad wanted me to focus on my studies in my final year. “I have five years’ experience, and I loved it. I’m a real people person.” I sound stupid. That’s what. I actually sound like a babbling buffoon, and it’s all much to his amusement. I need to calm down. Calm down and focus. He moves away from the wall and takes a few strides toward me, stopping in front of the large mahogany desk that’s a few paces away. He continues to stare, now assessing me. I’m not sure how to react when his gaze drops from my eyes and lands right on my breasts. I’m used to that. It wouldn’t be normal for me to talk to a guy and that doesn’t happen. They all look at my breasts and undress me with their eyes. This guy is no different. But… if feels different coming from him. I actually feel desire pull at the insides of my core, and it nearly weakens me the longer he stares.
Does he actually know he’s overtly staring at my breasts? I have the urge to cover myself or clear my throat. Something to snap his gaze back up to meet mine. After what seems like a forever of tension, his eyes climb back up my neck like he’s studying me then meet my eyes. What I see is pure desire that darkens the ice-blue hue. “What do you know about The Dark Odyssey?” comes his simple question. I’m thrown because I actually don’t know what to say. Of course, I did my research, so I know the general rundown. Somehow, though, telling him details like there’s no entry to anyone under twenty-one and nudity is optional doesn’t seem to cut it. He looks at me like he wants more of an answer than that. I’ve heard things.
Chloe tells me things because she comes here a lot. I know enough to stay away. I know enough to know that if you aren’t used to seeing certain things out in the open, the place is not for you. No offence to anyone who’s into the life of wild sexual adventure. I kind of wish sometimes I could be like that. I just know on the regular, this club would not be on my list of places I want to visit. Do I say that? No. Not if I don’t want him to show me the door. “It’s classy.” I nod and offer up a smile again. Bringing my hands together, I think of all the good I can tell him. Like what I observed. “Very classy and definitely the kind of place I would love to waitress in. I’m used to dealing with a variety of different clients.” His gaze intensifies at that answer. “That’s what you know about the club, Miss Chase?” He says my name with an edge of the desire I see in his eyes.
He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. “The fact that it’s an adult club completely goes unnoticed to you?” I’m almost afraid to answer. I know it’s silly not to mention that, but who would? “No, I noticed. I noticed for sure that it’s an adult club.” “Does that bother you?” “No.” Bald-faced lie. Jesus, I can’t even believe I lied with a straight face too, although I can feel my cheeks flush. “Not at all.” The curiosity comes back into his eyes, replacing the desire. Now he walks over to me, right up to me, and looks me over. He walks around me slowly, and my nerves spike from the effect of having his eyes drink me in. Even when I can’t see him, I feel the power of his eyes. The sexual tension sends shivers down my spine, and our eyes lock when he returns to face me. I swallow hard wishing I weren’t so attracted to him. “Waitress it is. The hours are seven until midnight unless given other instructions.
You work five days a week, unless given other instructions. The salary starts at fifty to a hundred grand.” I blink rapidly and scrunch up my face because I’m not sure I heard him right. I can’t help the look of shock I give him. I couldn’t have heard him right at all. Yes, Chloe might have said the pay was good, but what he just said is unreal. The starting salary at the law firm after internship was over a hundred grand. How can it be that here for waitressing? His lips arch into a grin when he sees my reaction. “I’m sorry, I’m having a little trouble hearing today. Can you repeat that, please?” I ask. “Seven until midnight, pay starts at fifty to a hundred grand.” “For a waitressing position? And five hours work a day?” “We value our waitresses here, Miss Chase. The Dark Odyssey is no regular club. You are chosen and considered as part of the attraction to the patrons that come here.
You have to do certain things, some of which make you more special.” God… Why did that sound not quite right to me? Do certain things that make you more special. In an adult club, what could that mean? I’m not stupid. Not at all. Stupid didn’t earn me graduating top of my class at Harvard. Neither did it secure my internship at Silvermans. Stupid, however, makes me want to doubt what he means and err on the side of logic. Waitressing means taking orders for food and drink, right? It’s desperation that makes me cling to that and not anything else. But … what waitress do I know makes a starting salary of a hundred grand a year? Starting salary… “What do you mean by special?” I ask. My voice is a little firmer than I’ve been.
“Special here can mean many things. It also determines the level of salary.” “Isn’t it based on experience?” My voice now comes out slightly high-pitched. “No, it’s not. It’s based on perception. Opinion. And what she is valued at.” He’s looking at me, and the heat in his eyes burns me up. I get the instant impression that he’s talking about so much more than the job. “How does that sound to you?” he asks. I open my mouth to answer, but I really don’t know what I’m supposed to say. He’s told me something about the job, yet at the same time I feel like he hasn’t really told me anything. And am I really in a position to be picky? I’m here because I’ve hit rock bottom. I’m here because I don’t know what else to do. I’ve been back in Chicago for eight months, and I can’t find work. I can’t find any work that will pay what I need. Dad can’t work as much as he used to.
He can’t. All I have to do is remember getting that call from the hospital, telling me he’d been taken in with a heart attack. He had emergency surgery. That was where my savings went. All of it because Dad never told me how bad things were. I truly found out the hard way. That was how it started. I’d been nearly at the end of my internship when I got the call that changed everything. I’d thought that was the bad part, but when I got home, I found out the rest. Everything else. It just got worse from there. “It sounds interesting,” I tell him. “Is there any more you can tell me? I mean like what the job involves. I’m guessing special means a lot more than waiting tables.” “Miss Chase… can I call you Mia?” “Yes. Sure.”
I swallow hard again and find there’s a lump in my throat. “Mia… this part is the part where things change. If we truly proceed to interview, things will change… and they might not be exactly what you’re used to. I need you to be aware of that.” He smiles with an air of confidence that’s sinful all at once. The suspense is building, and I want it to be over. I want it to be over and done with so I can stop trying to guess what the job would be like and what it would be like to work here. “Okay… I understand.” I nod. “And you’re ready for the interview?” His eyes flash with heat and desire. He almost looks like a predator about to pounce on its prey. The prey being me. “I’m ready.” I pull in a quick breath. His smile widens although it’s still even, with a cool edge. He sits on his desk and scans me again. “Good. Then take off your clothes.”