Falling for the Mafia Boss

Chapter Six

Mia POV

Since I returned home last week, I've settled into a routine. Each morning begins with tea or coffee with Mom and Dad. Once the sun peeks over the horizon, I lace up my running shoes and head out for a jog. Afterward, I shower and dress for the day, taking care of any errands Mom needs me to handle. Lately, that includes visiting the animal clinic she owns, ensuring the staff has everything they need. It's my way of giving Mom a break and allowing her to focus on taking care of Dad, which she seems to enjoy, nurturing him.

This morning, a text from Lorenzo arrived. It featured a photo of a crate filled with wine. He referred to it as a welcome home gift, a new blend he's been working on. According to him, I'm the lucky recipient of the first case, but he suggested I share a bottle with Mom so she won't give him a hard time. I'm not even sure how Lorenzo got my number, but I don't mind hearing from him, especially when he's out of town.

Donnie pays us a visit every evening for dinner with the family. Most of the time, he brings along Marco or some other guy he claims works for him. Dad seems to like Marco, but he grows irritable when other men accompany Donnie. Mom, on the other hand, doesn't seem to mind at all; she relishes being the host and uses it as an excuse to enjoy lots of wine.

I'm beginning to suspect that my assumption about Donnie being involved in the Mob is more than just an assumption. He always has someone with him, carries a wad of cash, and I can't help but notice the subtle outline of a gun beneath his shirt. I asked Dad about it last night, but he only offered cryptic advice about not knowing too much about what's happening around you to avoid becoming an accessory. Dad may be out of the Mafia, but he still retains some of that old outlook. I guess it's true what they say – once a gangster, always a gangster, or perhaps the proper term is Mobster?

Mom isn't cooking dinner tonight because Dad had an episode this afternoon, and she needs to devote her full attention to him. He's been declining slowly, sleeping more due to the morphine. Mom remains optimistic and hopeful, believing he'll pull through. Donnie and I, however, have come to terms with the fact that he's slowly fading away. We've been trying to spend more time with him, sharing hugs and reminiscing about our favorite memories.

I knock on the office door at Donnie's club, and Marco answers it moments later, moving aside to allow me entry. To my surprise, I find that same redheaded girl from a week ago sitting on Donnie's lap, counting money spread out on the table in front of them.

When Donnie spots me, he hands the girl a few twenties from the stack and gestures for her to leave, playfully smacking her on the ass as she saunters away. I give her a piercing death stare as she passes by, a look that conveys, "b***h, mess with my brother, and you'll regret it."

Donnie and two other men swiftly gather up the money, neatly placing it into several manila envelopes. Donnie clears his throat, as though I've interrupted something important, and walks toward me. I hand over the paper bag containing the takeout that Mom had me pick up for him. He eyes the bag with a hint of confusion.

"Mom isn't making dinner tonight," I explain, my voice somber. "She wanted me to make sure you were fed. Dad's condition has worsened since this morning, and he can't even move from his oxygen. His oxygen reading was in the 60s."

Donnie accepts the bag from me and sets it on his desk. He runs his fingers through his slick black hair, nodding slowly. "Alright," he responds void of any emotion. Donnie is good at hiding his true feelings, he gets it from dad. "Lorenzo brought you a case of wine and a gift for Ma. He wanted me to bring it over, but since you're here, would you mind taking it to her? It's all in the very back room."

"Sure," I agree, happy to help out.

As I make my way down the hall toward the last room, I notice that one of the doors to the Private room section is slightly ajar. Instinctively, I reach out to pull it closed, wanting it to match the rest of the doors. However, as I push it gently, my hand freezes in mid-air.

Through the crack in the door, I catch a glimpse of Enzo. He's sitting on the couch inside, his head lulled back, and his eyes closed. I can see the rise and fall of his chest with each slow, deliberate breath. Then I notice the dancer on her knees in front of him. My heart starts to race as I watch this intimate scene through the partially open door. Her head bobs up and down, while his fingers gently stroking her hair. Her hands, which seem to have a mind of their own, snake up his body, exploring the contours of his stomach and chest.

I would think the scene would make me uncomfortable, but it does the exact opposite. It turns me on, a delicious warmth spreads through my body like a wildflower.

"Need help with the boxes?" Marco's voice startles me as he appears behind me. I yelp in surprise and push the door further open, my face turning several shades of red. I can feel Lorenzo’s amused gaze on me as I try to escape from the situation I'd inadvertently stumbled into.

Marco laughs the entire way to my rental car, making my embarrassment blossom deeper. I’m pretty sure he knows that he caught me watching them like a pervert.

I sit in my car, resting my head on the steering wheel, overwhelmed by the stress of the morning. The memory of my dad almost struggling to breathe in my arms still lingers, and now this awkward encounter with Enzo and Marco is haunting me. I berate myself for even glancing into that room, knowing full well the kind of activities that typically take place in a "Private Room." Nothing innocent ever happens there, and I can't help but imagine the intimate moment I stumbled upon between Enzo and that girl.

The more I think about it, the worse I feel. I'm sure Enzo believed he was getting something good from her, but my curiosity got the best of me, and I watched. Then, to make matters worse, both Marco and Enzo caught me in the act. I can feel my face growing hotter as shame and embarrassment wash over me. I grip the steering wheel tightly, feeling like I'm about to vomit from the sheer humiliation of it all.

Someone knocks on my window startling me once more. I glance up and see Lorenzo standing there, and I can't help but wish the ground would swallow me whole. My cheeks feel like they're on fire, and I hurriedly sit up, rolling down the window.

"You okay?" he asks with a knowing grin.

"Yeah," I reply a bit too quickly, my discomfort obvious. Lorenzo chuckles and leans down, resting his arms on my window sill to bring himself closer to my level.

"You going to come back to the club later so I can see you?" he inquires. "Donnie says you haven't been yourself since everything that happened with Dylan. The Mia I know likes a good party."

I cringe at the mention of that name. "Oh god, I already feel nauseous. Don't say that name around me, please."

Lorenzo laughs and straightens up. "I'll see you tonight. It picks up around 11:00." With those words, he turns away and begins walking towards the back entrance of the club.

"Wait," I call after him, hesitating. "What if I don't want to come?"

He glances back at me with a mischievous glint in his eye. "It's not a request, Bellissima," he calls out before disappearing into the club.

****

The girl staring back at me in the mirror looks like she needs a night out. Her shoulders are tense, and the stress wrinkle between her eyebrows hasn't taken a break in almost a year. I study the baggy shirt and jean shorts that I'm wearing, wondering what happened to me. My heart is freshly broken, sure, but Donnie's right. I haven't been myself since the night I got back. I used to dress classy and refined, always put together.

"It's time to be the bad b***h you are, Mia. No more letting that asshole get you down," I tell myself, giving a determined fist bump in the mirror before heading into the bathroom for a shower.

After a refreshing shower, I search my closet for something to wear. I pull nearly 30 outfits from my closet and try on most of them before finally deciding on a long-sleeve, tight mini dress with laced sleeves. I pair it with thigh-high peep-toed boots that match in color. Only a couple of inches of my thighs show between my knees and the dress, offering a sneak peek of my olive skin. I pull my hair halfway up so that there is still length to fall down my back, but it's not in my face. Applying a bit of eyeliner and mascara, I'm ready to face the night.

Before leaving, I grab two water bottles from the fridge. Mom is standing at the counter washing dishes. When she sees me, she raises her eyebrows and smirks.

"Where are you going this late?" she questions in a protective tone.

"Donnie's club," I tell her as I grab the water bottles.

“Are you going to see Lorenzo?" she asks, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously.

My cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I'm sure he'll be there, but I'm just going to have fun and let loose. Why do you bring up Lorenzo of all people?" I try to sound nonchalant, but the panic in my voice is evident.

She snickers and comes over to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You call off your engagement to that Dylan kid the day you get back into town. Then I saw you and Lorenzo in here on the counter last week, doing something that didn't look innocent. I wasn't born yesterday, Mia. Be careful. He's Donnie's oldest friend, and you know how protective Donnie is over you." She lets go of me and returns to washing the dishes.

"I know, Mom. I love you, don't wait up."

"Mia," she calls me back as I try to rush out of the kitchen. I turn back to face her.

"I mean what I said. Be careful spending time with Lorenzo."

"Okay, Ma," I agree to ease her concerns, then quickly exit the kitchen. I hop into my rental car, turn the pop music up as loud as it will go, feeling the vibrations of the bass. Tonight, I hope, will be a good one.

I pull into the club parking lot in no time. I forgot how quick the drive here was. I park in the back of the club next to Donnie's sportscar and head for the back door. It's only 10:00 pm, but I wanted to get here early so that I could spend some time with Donnie before it gets busy.

Donnie's chatting with Enzo and someone else outside the back of the club when I walk up. Enzo spots me first, and his eyes rake down my body slowly. I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows hard, and a knowing smirk curves his lips. He nods in my direction, signaling Donnie to look my way. When Donnie turns around, his eyes flash with anger. "What are you doing wearing something like that?" he says, his voice stern, ignoring the conversation his company continues to have.

"I'm grown, Donnie. It's tasteful. Would you have rather me wear what your staff wear?" I reply, my tone tinged with cockiness, unyielding in my choice of attire. I'm a grown woman, and I'm not about to let anybody dictate how I dress.

He studies me for a moment, and then his expression softens. “Divertiti stellina. (Have fun little star)” he says, opening the back door for me.

I saunter inside, feeling a newfound confidence. "Oh, I plan to," I mutter to myself, casting a cheeky wink at the men who were watching me beside my brother.