Free Lust for Danger: A Mafia Romance -- Book One: The Family [Erotic Mafia Romance Book] by Angela Jordan Page A

Fiumicino today.
     
    He pulled up to the harbor’s parking lot and got out of the car, taking in the sight of the ships all around him that stretched out as far as the eye could see in both directions. There were ships of all sizes, from huge shipping vessels coming in from Asia all the way down to fishing boats that were just a few meters in length, all sharing space on the docks with each other. The Pirelli-run area was a little ways down the wharf, past a few sketchy-looking alleyways and a tiny, trash-ridden beach.
     
    It was on this beach that Carlo saw his brother, pacing up and down in the sand and yelling into his cell phone. Rocky saw Carlo approach, and held up a hand to his older brother to signify that he was almost done.
     
    “Listen, I don’t care what you have to do, you got that?” Rocky said, holding the phone up to his mouth and talking into it. “You just fucking get me what I asked for. I’m a Pirelli, God damn it.”
     
    Carlo’s eyebrows arched upwards, and his mouth dropped open slightly. What the hell was his brother doing?
     
    Rocky resumed his agitated pacing around the beach, nodding energetically as he barked his orders into the phone. “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Listen, I gotta go. You call me back – and you better fuckin’ make me happy.” He slammed the phone shut in his palm.
     
    “Piece of shit,” Rocky said, and then turned to look at his brother. A wide grin broke out across his face. “Carlo!” he cried, and he opened his arms wide for an embrace. Carlo’s arms opened reflexively, but he remained silent and stunned as they hugged.
     
    “Rocky, what the fuck was that?” he asked, as they pulled away. His brother shrugged, still smiling.
     
    “These fucking Turks, man,” he said. “You gotta show ‘em who’s boss, or they’ll never respect you. I got a big shipment in this morning, just arrived from Istanbul. I’m meeting my guy in half an hour to pick up the stuff.”
     
    Carlo shook his head. “Not that,” he said. “It’s your business how you talk to people. Why the fuck are you going around saying you’re a Pirelli?”
     
    Rocky’s face darkened.
     
    “What do these guys know?” he replied, a lame response. “I gotta let them know I mean business. Besides, we work for the family, don’t we? That counts for something.”
     
    “You know what Dom would do if he heard you saying you’re a Pirelli,” Carlo said. “There’s a difference between working for the family and being part of it. You’re gonna get yourself into trouble, brother.”
     
    “Don’t tell me how to run my business,” he said sullenly.
     
    “Forget business,” he pressed. “This is about family. You’re an Ambrosi, Rocky. Your father built a fucking art museum. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
     
    Carlo threw his arms open to the decrepit docks surrounding them.
     
    “Just look around you,” he said, stepping closer to his brother as he spoke. “You really wanna throw away your father’s name, just to trade it for this shit? What’s wrong with you?”
     
    “Fuck you,” he snarled, pushing Carlo away with both hands. Carlo pushed him back, hard, and Rocky had to stumble backwards a couple of steps. Carlo had three inches on his thin, scrawny brother, and twenty pounds of muscle on him easily. They stared at each other with adrenaline in their eyes.
     
    “I’m not saying this to start a fight,” Carlo said, his voice softening. “I’m worried about you, that’s all. Sometimes it doesn’t seem like you realize how dangerous this shit is.”
     
    “I can take care of myself,” Rocky said, but Carlo shook his head.
     
    “That’s not what I meant,” he replied. “Sure, you’ll survive – that’s not what I’m worried about. I’m talking about dangerous in the sense that once you let this life get into your head, it changes you. You won’t be able to leave it. I know you’ve always loved the mob. Those movies you watched, how could you