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

muscles of his six-foot-two frame didn’t hurt things, either.
     
    He splashed some water on his face, tearing off his navy-blue t-shirt and using it to wipe the water away – an action that would have sent his mother into a yelling fit. He smiled softly at the memory of her, and his eyes flicked to the tattoo on his left pectoral muscle, just above his heart.
     
    Dom had a half-dozen tattoos, but this was the one that was most special to him – an ornate medieval-style cross with a rosary draped over it, and the date of her death written underneath. On a ribbon wrapped diagonally over the stem of the cross, there was a simple word written: Madre.
     
    He knew what Carlo was going through, and he could recognize easily that pained, dull look in his eyes when they spoke about his father. And what he always told Carlo was true: family comes first.For a guy like Dom, family was all he’d ever had – the only thing keeping him off the street, the only people he could count on not to stab him in the back. Family wasn’t just first, it was everything.
     
    Hell, if Carlo had been a Pirelli, there was no question what would be happening to the Berlottis right now: a full-fledged fucking war, no question about it.
     
    But Carlo wasn’t a Pirelli. And that made things much more complicated.
     
    Dom knew what his mother would say about this, of course. She always considered their gang to be one big extended family. When the guys would come over, no matter what time of night, she’d put on a pot of coffee and make sure everyone was fed. She never gave much weight to the idea that only Pirellis were allowed in the inner circle – much to the chagrin of Dominic’s father. 
     
    And if she were alive, she would have treated Giorgio Ambrosi’s murder like a crime against her own flesh and blood.
     
    Damn it , Dom thought to himself, cursing as he pulled away from the mirror and stormed back into his office, still shirtless. He was thinking of work again. Sometimes he was like a machine without an off switch.
     
    But it wasn’t mere workaholism weighing on his mind tonight: it was guilt, plain and simple. And as he gently placed his fingers of his left hand over the tattoo on his chest, Dominic realized what he had to do.
     
    With a look of combined rage, disgust and resignation, Dominic turned back to the sink and spat out the whiskey in his mouth, then poured out the remainder of his glass. He grabbed the bottle from his desk and overturned it above the sink, not stopping until every last drop had drained out.
     
    Peace offering, my ass, he thought to himself.
     
    As he let the empty bottle fall into the trash bin, Dom immediately felt better, even though he knew his decision to follow his conscience was about to make things very complicated for him. Trastevere was about to see a war the likes of which it hadn’t witnessed since the seventies.
     
    But that was a matter for tomorrow. Tonight, he planned to enjoy himself – and to drink his own fucking whiskey, not what the Berlottis had offered to him.
     
    Grabbing a charcoal gray T-shirt from the bureau in his office and pulling it over his solid frame, Dom gave himself one last look in the mirror before heading out of the office and down to the club. He liked what he saw, he had to admit. And he noted, with no small satisfaction, that he could look himself in the eye without any guilt or reluctance. He was doing the right thing – he would have made his mother proud.
     
    Yes, it was good to be the king.
     
    And tonight, Dominic Pirelli was going to celebrate.
     
     

Chapter Eight
     
     
    As she stepped out of the cab, Jessica took in the sight of the gleaming, neon-lit megaclub in front of her. Pink and blue floodlights danced across its exterior, and a muffled bass beat could faintly be heard thumping relentlessly from inside. Two surly-looking bouncers flanked the main doorway, and above their heads a single word was lit up like a firework in impossibly