Lust for Danger: A Mafia Romance -- Book One: The Family [Erotic Mafia Romance Book] Read Online Free PDF

was a woman on a mission, and suddenly every minute she spent cooped up in her hotel room felt like another minute wasted.
     
    She grabbed a simple black purse and light jacket, did a final twirl in the mirror, and was done – lights off, door shut, and into the elevator within twenty minutes of leaving the shower.
     
    And as she descended down to the lobby, she couldn’t stop smiling.
     
    As she reached the lobby, she walked over to the concierge desk. “Excuse me,” she said, “where’s the best place to get a drink on a Thursday night?”
     
    The concierge was a tall, muscular kid, maybe 20 years old, and she noted with pleasure that he was fighting not to give her a once-over as he spoke.
     
    “Well, ah...” he said, clearly flustered, “It depends – are you looking for dancing, or…”
     
    “Yes,” she said emphatically, cutting him off. “For dancing.”
     
    “Okay,” he nodded, “very good, ah… maybe you want something a little fancy? Or more relaxing?”
     
    She looked at his nametag – Emilio.
     
    “Listen, Emilio,” she said, leaning in a bit closer to him. “I just dumped my boyfriend, and I’m looking to go dance my ass off at the hottest club in town. You got it?”
     
    He blushed a bit, but laughed.
     
    “Okay, okay,” he said. “I know a good place. It’s close by… not more than ten minutes. I will call you a taxi.”
     
    “Perfect,” she said. “What’s the name of it?”

“It is in Trastevere,” he said. “A club called Terrazza. It is the best place for dancing. You will love it.”
     
    She smiled.
     
    “I’m sure I will.”
     
     
     

Chapter Seven
     
     
    Running his thumb over the stack of banknotes in his hand, Dominc Pirelli looked again at the screen of the television by his desk and watched Carlo Ambrosi exit through the main double doors of the club.
     
    He sighed heavily before unlocking the drawer of his desk and shoving the wad of banknotes inside and locking it tight.
     
    Forget it , he thought to himself, as his eyes turned to the now half-empty bottle of Scotch. He reached out for it, but something made him pause for just a second.
     
    Maybe he shouldn’t. After all, he never knew what kind of bullshit lay in store for him this evening – never knew when he’d have to clean up someone else’s mess at a moment’s notice.
     
    But things had been pretty quiet this week, the Ambrosi incident notwithstanding. Dom ruled with an iron fist, and the whole town knew it. It had been a long and violent road to the top, but over the past several years Dom had reached such a position of power that no one was stupid enough to mess with him. He had the mayor in his back pocket, for Christ’s sake, and now even the Berlottis were trying to win his good graces.
     
    And besides, if anyone tried to fuck with the Pirelli family, he had a whole army of loyal soldiers ready to keep the peace.
     
    So after a minute’s hesitation, Dom grabbed the bottle and poured himself another double. Fuck it. He loved this life, it was true – but he’d had enough of the family business for one day. And besides, what was the point of being the most powerful man in town if you couldn’t let loose once in a while and enjoy yourself?
     
    He took another long, luxurious sip of the whiskey, savoring the taste as it went down. “Ahhh,” he said in satisfaction.
     
    It was good to be the king.
     
    Standing up with a smile on his face now, he walked over to the en-suite bathroom in his office – another perk of being the boss ,he chuckled to himself. He took a look at himself in the mirror, scrutinizing the first traces of gray appearing in his jet-black, shoulder-length hair. He was only thirty-eight, but the men in his family had always gone gray early.
     
    But Dom liked the salt-and-pepper look he had going on, and he had no hang-ups about getting older. With his full lips and high, muscular cheekbones, he knew he cast an imposing presence. And the chiseled