Flirting with Danger Read online

  Flirting with Danger

  Flirting with Curves - 3

  Ava Catori

  Olivia Rigal

  Contents

  Foreword

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Afterword

  About the Authors

  Foreword

  Isabella's body shook, and for an instant she forgot how to breathe. She jerked her head back against the wall and looked into my eyes, her mouth forming a perfect circle, "Oh!"

  Isabella had plans, big ones for her future, but she also had a family. Forced to choose between her dreams and saving her father’s life, Isabella was thrust into the arms of a stranger.

  Gino craved money and power. Consumed with ambition, Gino would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Climbing the ladder to become a Mafia boss, he never imagined that his lust for Isabella would be his downfall.

  Copyright © 2016 by Ava Catori & Olivia Rigal

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design by Jacqueline Sweet

  Special thanks to Tina’s Editing

  Created with Vellum

  1

  Isabella

  My stomach lurched. The more I thought about home, the more my insides twisted. It’s not that the news came as a total surprise. I knew who my family was, but it hurt nonetheless. Things happen, people die. Only when it’s all over the news and it’s your grandfather who dies in an explosion, it can be hard to act as if this is life as usual.

  At school, I tried to keep a low profile. I was desperate to break free and start over, but just like that, I was dragged back into my family’s reality. Organized crime living wasn’t for the faint of heart.

  Going home for my grandfather's funeral was the last thing I wanted to do. My heart wept and lodged in my throat on hearing the news. He’d been the man calling the shots for a long time. Others may have cowered in his presence, but he only treated his grandchildren with love. Stern love at times, but he always made sure we knew he cared. Everything was about family. Family was everything to him.

  While it was for a sad reason, I looked forward to seeing everybody. My mom’s cooking would be a nice treat, my sister would be there, and I’d get to connect to members of my extended family I rarely saw these days. I wondered how my dad took the news of losing his father. Not only had he lost a family member, but the dynamics of power would begin to shift. Nothing would ever be the same.

  A couple of extra days to visit before jumping back into my busy school schedule would do me good. I'd pushed myself with a heavy workload at Saint Ignatius, but it was a passionate endeavor. I wanted to get out into the world and make a difference. As silly as it sounded, I wanted to leave a mark. Even though my mother tried to keep us sheltered, I’d seen so much destruction growing up, it had left me reeling and wanting to go the other direction.

  I wasn't sure whether speech pathology or teaching special ed was where I'd end up, but helping kids was my intended path. My best friend's brother was on the high end of the Autism scale, and I'd watched him struggle as he grew up. If I could make an impact in the life of children, it was worth the time and effort to study hard.

  I packed a small case, gathered a few things, and looked around. My laptop and some handwritten notes I'd scribbled down were still on my desk. I shoved them into my backpack and double checked to make sure I had my chargers. At the very least, I could work on a few things in the evenings.

  I reached into my Fendi 3Jours leather purse and dug around. Feeling for a hair band, I finally found one. I pulled out the elastic and gathered my hair into a ponytail. The Fendi two-tone bag I carried was a favorite of mine. A perfect Christmas gift last year from my parents. It said I was both classic and current in the clean lines and double blocked coloring. A quality handbag is an investment, my mother always said.

  Looking around one last time, I made certain I had what I needed. With car keys in hand, I juggled my bags, popped the trunk, and layered in my suitcase and backpack. I jumped in the front, tossed my purse on the passenger seat and fidgeted with the radio. Settling on a quiet station, I drew a deep breath and started my car.

  It was going to be a long week. Time to go home.

  Leaving the city, I made it to the turnpike and turned toward Preston Hills Beach. There were no hills in Preston Hills, only sand dunes to protect the million dollar mansions and neat, pristine homes that dotted the coastline. As our family’s status rose, our homes reflected the change. We'd left "the neighborhood" we'd grown up in and my father put us in a luxury estate with a view. For him, it was about being seen, and letting other people know he had more than they did. I hated how image was everything, but that became his priority.

  I found it amusing that his brother went the polar opposite direction, decrying it all and becoming a priest. My father had strong opinions about his brother’s choice. He’d rant about how he’d let his father down, not staying in the family business. Though, looking at the carnage that comes with being a Guarnieri, I could see his wanting to run away.

  The hour drive went quickly. Thankfully, when I shifted onto the Garden State Parkway, traffic wasn't thick and I made good time.

  I stopped at a local convenience store and grabbed a few drinks, even though my mother kept the fridge fully stocked. More than anything, I was buying time. Butterflies moved freely within me. Home was home, but after being away, I needed to dip my toes in slowly to readjust.

  Despite the fact I had moved and was living on my own at college, my parents still treated me as a child when I was home.

  I stood by my car and took a deep breath. The salty ocean air filled my lungs. After a few more moments of hesitation, I climbed back into my car to finish the last few minutes of the drive.

  I pulled into the familiar driveway and gathered my things. My mother met me at the door with a smile and a hug. I knew she'd been watching out the kitchen window as she cooked up a storm, making enough food to feed a small army. That was her window to the world, where she kept an eye on things.

  "Mom, it’s great to see you," I admitted. As much as I hesitated at the last moment, nothing was as comfortable as home once I allowed myself back into my expected role.

  My parents were a huge part of my life growing up. I didn't have daddy issues like half of my friends did. I got plenty of attention. And I didn't resent my mother, like the other half of my friends. She'd always put us first and went above and beyond to make sure we had anything we needed. My parents doted on me. I was certain being away at school meant that Maura may have been smothered even more, but she loved the attention. Other than the fact I came from a mafia family, I had
a great relationship with my folks.

  "Your sister will be thrilled you're home," my mother said, taking my hand and leading me to the kitchen. "I made your favorite, Gnocchi with mini meatballs."

  I knew better than to tell her I wasn't hungry. I sat as she scurried about, gathering a heaping bowl of Gnocchi. She lathered on extra cheese for me. My father always said I over did the cheese, but in my eyes there was no such thing. She placed the bowl in front of me and asked about my drive.

  Small talk filled the first few moments, but we couldn’t avoid the reason I was there.

  "We have to be at the church early tomorrow." Her voice was somber. "I'm torn between being happy to see you, and sad that we lost your grandfather."

  "Yeah, I know. It was all over the news; I had to turn it off. I can't even imagine..." I trailed off and buried my sadness in a forkful of pasta.

  My sister came bounding in on seeing my car.

  "Isabella!"

  I jumped up and hugged Maura. "Hey, you. How are you doing?"

  "Eh, you know, Granddad and all… I hate that it put the spotlight on our family again, so of course, Regina Embers was all in my face. I'd love to take a hit out on that bitch-"

  "Maura! You know I don't like that kind of language. Don't even joke about that," my mother scolded.

  "Sorry, Mom," she said, and then turned her attention back to me. "How long are you here?"

  "I'm taking a long weekend, so until Monday night." The warmth of home flooded me.

  My mother smiled. She was two different people, one for her children, and one with my father. Her eyes sparkled and danced today, something I hadn’t seen in a while. We were her life, and she expended every bit of energy on Maura and me. With my father, she was a more toned down version of herself.

  Though, in this world it was expected. My father ruled the roost, but the kitchen was her territory. It was where she was happiest.

  I hated the reason for being home, but on seeing my sister and mother, I was happy to be there.

  * * *

  2

  Gino

  Some days I hated my life. Today was one of those. Sitting on the crappy bench in Santa Lucia's church, I kept wondering why I always got so close to the prize I wanted but never managed to reach it.

  Chiara hugged my right arm and whispered in my ear, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

  My sister was beaming. Her darling husband was out of jail and she kept thanking me, not realizing I had nothing to do with his dodging a third strike and life time sentence! Hell no. I’d been undecided about what to do. No matter how much I loved my sister, I wanted her husband's seat at the big table.

  So, even though I hadn't done all I could to make sure Sonny was sent away for good, I also hadn’t pressed hard to make sure he was set free. The truth of the matter was I’d barely gone through the basic motions. I’d done just enough so, should he get out, he wouldn't question my loyalty. The only reason Sonny was out was thanks to Gia. She found a way to clean up the consequences of the mess she started.

  She'd managed to convince the Guarnieri patriarch that her working in Ocean Crest wasn’t some sort of subtle move on our part to take over their territory.

  She got lucky. She managed to talk to the old man in the nick of time. A few minutes later, and Domenico Guarnieri was literally pulverized in an explosion.

  Gia sat on my left with her boyfriend and two bosses, staring at the old man’s coffin. It was quite a small coffin for such a big man. But then again, I'm not sure how much of the guy was really in there. The bomb hidden under his car was powerful, which meant the content of the box was probably like bits and pieces of a human jigsaw puzzle.

  The old man’s family stood next to the patriarch’s coffin.

  Closer to the altar was the eldest son, Roberto, the priest. And if what Chiara confided in me on the way here was true, the man sinned big time before turning all religious. Turns out he was Barbara’s father, Gia's boss.

  Life was so deliciously ironic.

  He spoke in hushed tone to Francesca, the middle daughter. That woman wasn’t the type to carry a grudge. Seriously, her father disowned her for marrying a Mick and still she came to the old man's funeral.

  For me, the most interesting group was the family of the youngest son, the Capo of the Guarnieri family and his flock of women. I knew all about him since he'd been like me, second-in-command. I sort of expected us to reach the top at the same time, but his father's untimely death brought him up the ladder sooner than expected.

  I knew he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. He'd married a woman who bathed in holy water, probably one that only fucked with the lights off. I looked at her and chuckled, maybe it was better that way.

  We were also graced with the presence of their two daughters. They’d been pulled out of the safe Catholic boarding places where they were usually tucked away.

  The youngest facing me was a teenager. Poor kid looked just like her mother, plain and forgettable. That had to be the youngest one. I knew the other was now in college. I always made it my business to find out about my rival's weak spots. The other young woman had her back to me. I watched as Barbara placed her baby in the girl’s arms. She made stupid baby sounds that women seemed programmed to know when they wanted to calm babies.

  Face bent over the precious cargo, she turned. As the baby fussed, she softly sang an Italian lullaby that brought back memories I didn't know I still had. I recognized the melody, and could almost smell the flowery perfume Chiara used to wear when she was younger and taking care of me.

  For all intents and purposes, Chiara had been my mother. She’d taken on the baby boy who had killed his own mother who had been way too old for that pregnancy. I had been the final training for Chiara. She was ready to be a great mother when Gia came along a few years later.

  The song worked its century old magic and the baby calmed down. When he did, the girl looked up and her angelic smile knocked the wind out of me.

  Fuck.

  I’d never seen anyone like her before.

  Mesmerized, I couldn't look away. Crazy images flashed through my mind.

  I saw her black hair fanned out on a pillow.

  I imagined her pleasure as her lips screamed out my name.

  I drowned in her brown eyes as she forced them open, showing me how amazing I made her feel...

  The weird thing was that in my imagination, she wasn’t naked. Instead, she was covered in white lace, like a bride.

  I shook my head, jogging the craziness that rattled within, and looked at my niece. She stared at me with amusement painted on her face.

  Shit, I was horny.

  I shifted my position to hide an erection that was growing, and looked around the surrounding pews. Right behind me was Michaela. It was perfect timing. She was one of my friends with benefits, and I desperately needed some benefits. She winked when she noticed me looking. With a movement of her chin, she discreetly pointed to the confessional booth at the end of her row.

  I smiled and nodded, accepting her silent invitation. The woman was truly heaven sent - a perfect answer to my non-religious prayers.

  She'd married an older man for money, who despite his best effort, never found a way to quench her thirst. Michaela was sex on two legs with no extra demand than a good time when she felt the urge.

  Knowing what was in store for me shortly made sitting through the mass bearable.

  As soon as the last blessing was done and the pallbearers began their walk out of the church, I made a beeline for the booth. By the time Michaela joined me I had my pants down past my mid-thigh. I lifted her skirt as she slid her panties down. In one quick movement, I turned and pressed her tightly against the central side of the booth. After kicking her legs apart, I relentlessly pounded into her and buried my face in her hair. Relief at last.

  * * *

  3

  Isabella

  It was hard to look at the casket. While my grandfather might have been a savory indi
vidual in his organization, he always put family first. He loved his kids and his grandkids. Sure, he might have had outdated ideas on how life should be lived, but he grew up in another time. He wasn’t just from an older generation, he had been cast in a mold carved centuries ago.

  After the initial news broke, I refused to look at follow-up news stories. The stupid articles would champion and cheer that another mafia leader was taken out. Didn't they realize new people would take his place? It’s not like it would simply go away. And what if the other families were more violent and damaging to the area? Not that it mattered.

  I wasn't trying to justify organized crime, but it still hurt to watch your family member smeared all over the news.

  Barbara made her way to us with her son. I’d not met her yet, and was looking forward to the experience, even if it was due to poor circumstances. Babies offered innocence and a chance of renewal in a life like ours.

  I wondered if it was a shock to see who her family was. We were all taken aback on learning that my uncle had been a dad before he’d become a priest, but yet we accepted her as one of our own. She was blood.

  She was one of us.

  But then one of us was such a challenging concept nowadays.

  Only last week, the Traversini family was the enemy, but in the latest war with the Russian mafia entering the picture, they were on our side.

  And now that the Traversinis and Guarnieris had joined together, their family had shown for the funeral. In the wake of the day, this small bit of sunlight made me happy. I smiled at the mother and child as she was introduced to us.

  She was polite, pleasant enough, and I was delighted when she didn’t balk at my request to hold Aiden. Barbara looked at me for a few seconds, and decided it would be okay. She gently placed Aiden into my arms.