Note:
Although the following story contains elements of reality, it does not reflect actual events and most references to the mob are only products of imagination.
There is no Sardinian mob. Their laws, their hierarchy, their ranking and the whole organization are only fiction.
Author's Acknowledgements:
Thanks to Bettina Wagner with all my respect.
Thank you for your help and contribution. You are a true friend, a great writer and the most fanatic person I have ever known. In the best way, of course! :D
Thanks to my other colleagues as well.
Shana Hope, Myrthil Tiller, Serenity Water, Midrin, Julio Garco, Jessie T., Bea, Andro, Tora, Silmarwen.
You are amazing.
Deepest gratitude to my wonderful family for their love, support and caring.
Dom, Reb and Prince Mark … my sweet little angels.
Mommy loves you with all her heart!
Special thanks to my wonderful beta, Helen Page.
This story would be nothing without you.
Thank you, Helen!
− Rica Kalocsay −
CHAPTER 1
The party had been already going on. The parking lot was filled with elegant limousines and expensive sports cars.
A prying crowd stood in front of the entrance, though they had not any chance to get into the building. Journalists, cameramen and photographers … waiting for some sensations.
Rich and famous people got out of their cars and went along the red carpet in the crossfire of flashlights. They wore stylish, tailor-made suits and unique evening dresses. The cream of
Rebecca never liked superfluous fusses like this. She didn't care about appearance as much as these people. She was eye-catchingly beautiful and, of course, she liked nice dresses, but this party was beyond the point that she found normal.
She hated the idea of going into and posing among these people, but no one could see the aversion on her face as the driver flung open the back door of the white limousine. Rebecca flashed a kindly, broad smile to the man while she got out of the car and then started towards the entrance. All eyes were set on her from behind the cordon placed on two sides of the red carpet. Flashes started to glitter again though no one knew who this young beautiful woman was. Not a famous model, not an actress and not an heiress or proprietor of a firm, but highly rich and aristocratic for sure. The light blue dress she wore hid her perfectly arched shoulders only with thin straps, and disclosed her entire back. Her neckline was inviting for the hungry men’s eyes. The soft satin touched the red carpet as she headed towards the open, two-leafed door.
Her gait made a hint as if she would swim in the air. Her wasp-waisted, graceful body was amazing; she looked like a top model. The dress fitted skin tight on her rounded bottom and her long, dainty legs flashed out from under the blue material with every step she took. Her raven-black hair was clamped on her crown but it reached to the middle of her back and curled at the end. Rebecca wore a thin white gold necklace with suitable earrings, held a white reticule in her left hand and her make-up was restrained but it set off her big, crystal-clear, dark eyes.
Finally she reached the entrance and beyond the door a young man asked her for her name.
"Rebecca Hart" she replied in a silky voice. The man looked at the list of names in his hand then nodded when he found Rebecca's name on the list. He looked long after her as she went along, towards the lit up hall, where the orchestra played Wagner.
High society received her. “Suits, evening dresses… clowns” she thought to herself. Rebecca didn't feel she belonged to this place and to calm her growing anxiety she took a glass of champagne from a big table beside the wall. Then she looked around at the snobbish multitude. Women chatting charmingly and men acting important … and then finally observed him, too.
He was standing by the bar counter, wearing a black suit … Armani in all probability. Rebecca had seen him only once before and only on a photo. She had to admit that in reality he is much … She couldn’t find the right word. The sight of him entranced her for a while. He was bald and much taller than she thought with broad shoulders and hazel eyes. His glance was straight, his gestures were friendly and his smile … breathtaking. He was Mark DiAngelo. She had come here because of this man. He didn't show his age, Rebecca could never have told that he was 40 if she hadn’t known, but she did know.
The other, stoutly built man standing beside Mark was a bit taller than him with very short black hair. Rebecca had never seen him before but she knew well who he was. Joe Brighton, Mark's bodyguard, his shadow who was always by his side. DiAngelo looked great in his expensive suit and it was apparent that it was familiar for him. Mark behaved naturally and he could carry the suit. Against this, Joe was embarrassed and visibly uncomfortable in the choice clothes. The tie probably hampered him, too.
Rebecca smiled dimly at his anguish, sipped from the champagne and then started towards them.
Mark leaned against the counter with easy elegance and was lost in conversation with his bodyguard. Besides, Joe was more than a simple bodyguard; they were good friends, too.
Rebecca couldn't hear what they were talking about because she stopped by a part of the bar counter from where she could see them perfectly well, but where she was out of earshot.
"How long do you want to stay here?" Joe groaned with evident annoyance.
"For a while…" Mark said smiling calmly. He was actually amused by Joe's 'it's-the-end-of-the-world' mood. "Try to enjoy yourself."
"I don't like your humor, Mark. Not in this situation" the bodyguard whispered in an angry tone. "You know how I hate this fucking…" he didn't finish the sentence only pulled his coat irritably and quickly looked around. Then he continued,
"Moreover… Stefano is kicking his heels outside."
"He's my driver, Joe. You know I can't bring him in."
"Your driver … and your friend as I know. I see it doesn't bother you."
"One hour" Mark said looking up at the other man. "We'll stay here for one hour, show ourselves to everyone and then we'll go away. Right?"
Joe sighed rolling his eyes then lifted up his empty glass from the counter hinting at he would like one more drink.
Mark DiAngelo turned round still smiling and his glance didn't stop on the bartender but on a young, beautiful woman who was just calling for a drink, too.
"That is something” he said and his smile became broader as he eyed the woman up. That long, raven hair, those big, black eyes … and her lips… In that moment, when he set his eyes on her, his only wish was to be near to her.
"What?" Joe groaned in a subdued voice, turned to look that direction and following his friend's glance he noticed her, too. "Oh, I see!" he said grinning. "A model probably."
"No, she's not." Mark said, not taking his eyes off the woman. "She doesn't seem a spoiled, empty-headed doll."
"She couldn't be anything else since she's here." Joe fretted because he felt again that the suit was so tight. "Shit, it's too uncomfortable."
Mark passed over these comments without notice, just looked at the woman. When she got her drink she looked into his eyes for a minute and then she looked away confusedly.
"Edible." Mark said, giggling.
"Take a bite out of her and then let's go!"
DiAngelo looked at his bodyguard, clapped his shoulder and sighed.
"One hour, as I said” he reminded Joe.
Then Mark waved to the young boy behind the counter and called for whisky. For himself and for his morose bodyguard, too. When they got their drinks Mark discreetly asked the bartender, what the blue-dressed lady drank.
"She drinks a cocktail. White Lady" the boy said. Mark told the bartender that he would send the same for the woman and he would like to know if she would join him and his friend for the rest of the evening. Then he tried not to stare at the woman while he was waiting for the answer.
In a few minutes the sparkling beauty looked deep into Mark's eyes and nodded with an angelic smile on her face, seized her glass and walked up to them.
"Bingo!" Joe moaned while the woman approached. "You always get what you want."
"I'm a winner." Mark said grinning and then received the beautiful lady in the correct way: The kissing of the hand, introduction and a little courteous chat about why they are at this party.
"Do you smoke?" Mark asked a bit later.
"Yes." Rebecca nodded.
"Come!" he said looking at the woman self-confidently. Rebecca after a short hesitation drew her hand through his arm and went out with him to the terrace. The strong-limbed, anti-suit activist Joe followed them of course, but he remained apart from them on the terrace and foamed with rage, silently alone. Rebecca and Mark lit cigarettes, leaned against the barrier and talked on.
"Your name is a little strange." Rebecca stated and Mark began to smile.
"Well my mother was Afro-American and my father is Italian" he said giving an explanation for his name and his caramel skin at the same time.
"So you're half-American, half-Italian..."
"Only Italian in my heart."
"Yet you are here." Rebecca smiled.
"Work brought me here. Not my heart."
"What's your job?"
"I do business, buy and sell lots of things. And yours?"
"I write for the stage."
"Can you subsist on it?" he raised his brows.
"Not so well as that." Rebecca replied waving back at the party. "But I'm not in need." she said smiling up at Mark.
DiAngelo had countless affairs in his life so he could tell a lot of things about women by looking at them. This was why he was sure right away that Rebecca was a highborn, cultured, intelligent woman, someone who grew up in richness but remained approachable. She was not like a model though she looked like one and she was not like those women at the party who thought they could do anything only because they had money.
"So you grew up in
"On Sardinia, actually" he rectified and, seeing the strap of Rebecca's dress slide down from her shoulder, he moved automatically, putting the strap back and touching Rebecca's silky skin. He then continued: "I came to the
They talked for a long time, smoking three cigarettes, and then Joe cleared his throat loudly behind them hinting at he would like to leave.
"I guess that's the time to leave the party." Mark broke into a broad grin, taking a short look behind him at his bodyguard.
"That is too much for me, too." Rebecca smiled at Joe kindly. "I don't like these fools" she giggled and Joe winked smiling back at her.
"Can we take you home?" Mark asked.
"Yes" she replied more quickly than she had intended. She really didn't want to stay there longer, but she neither did want to give herself away. Rebecca drew her hand through Mark's arm again and went out with him.
Following them, Joe was still uncomfortable because of his unfamiliar clothes. They went across the back of the building and arrived directly at the parking lot.
Mark was just praising Wagner when they reached the black limousine. Rebecca agreed with his every word but Joe just rolled his eyes. They stopped by the car and Stefano Moretti, Mark's driver, got out of the limousine immediately to open the door for them. He was a little shorter than Mark with dark hair and brown eyes, wearing white trousers and a partly buttoned black shirt. Although he was not too thin, he looked small beside the two bigger built men.
Stefano said hello to the woman with a wide smile on his face while flung open the door. By the time Rebecca and Mark got in the car Joe had already taken off his tie and undone the top two buttons on his shirt.
By the time he got in the car the coat had gone, too. Barely any words were heard from him but the smile on Stefano's face indicated that the driver understood the abuse he addressed towards the person who designed suits.
"Where are we going?" Stefano asked. Mark looked at Rebecca interrogatively and she told the address. Stefano nodded, closed the door, walked forward and got into the car next to the still grumbling, allergic-to-suits giant.
The limousine headed out of the parking lot slowly and majestically, but when got it to the street, it surged ahead and almost flew in the night-lights, towards the city centre. Mark and Rebecca carried on the conversation behind.
"Would you have a dinner with me some time?" Mark asked with an irresistible smile on his face.
"Yes, I would love to." Rebecca nodded, her eyes shining. She really enjoyed herself with Mark. This man produced an effect on her like nobody else before. She hadn’t reckoned on it and knew that she should not feel drawn towards him.
Then again, Mark DiAngelo was more than she thought. Not only an immensely rich playboy; he had an attractive force she never experienced before. An attractive force that made her almost drunk… Her; the woman who always was staid, cold, professional and who never mixed pleasure with work.
"I will be out of town for two days. We can meet when I'll come back…"
"Right!" she smiled a bit confusedly.
They gave their phone numbers to each other and then the strap of Rebecca's dress slid down again from her shoulder. Looking deep into her eyes Mark put it back again and tried to keep away from himself those dirty thoughts that tempted him. He felt Rebecca tremble with his gentle touch.
"Are you in a relationship?" he asked leaning closer to her.
"I'm not" she whispered in response and closed her eyes involuntarily as she felt Mark's breath on her neck.
"Thank God!" Mark sighed, though he knew how to put rivals out of the way. He kissed Rebecca's neck gently, then kissed her chin, leaned towards her full lips and looked deep into her eyes.
"You're incredibly beautiful" he said in a voice that intoxicated her. Mark, as an Italian man, always knew how to compliment and how to sweep women off their feet. Anytime and anywhere he could charm the panties from any woman.
"Thank you" she whispered again and her voice trembled.
Mark just saw her face for a while. It was characteristic of him that his sudden acquaintances became passionately burning but short-lived relationships. Then again, he felt so this would not be enough with this woman. He wanted more from her.
The limousine came to a stop in front of her address and Mark kissed the beautiful face before Stefano opened the door and they got out. Rebecca said goodbye to the driver and the bodyguard, and started towards the building with Mark by her side. Joe got out of the car, too. He and Stefano both leaned against the car and looked at the very attractive couple. Rebecca stopped in front of the entrance and turned to DiAngelo.
"I’ll accompany you upstairs." Mark recommended to her but Rebecca shook her head.
"Are you sure?" he smiled at her kindly.
"Well then..."
"I'll call you."
"And I'll wait for your call" she chuckled.
"Okay. Good night!"
"Good night!"
They looked at each other confusedly for a few minutes then Mark leaned to Rebecca and gently kissed her. At first he only sampled those full lips, and then his tongue slid into her mouth to play with hers. Rebecca felt the taste of the cigarette and the whisky in his mouth and her knees trembled as Mark clasped her waist gently, drawing her body closer to his.
"I think I’d better go home now." DiAngelo said in a scrapy voice after the kiss.
"Yeah" she blushed. "Good night, Mark!"
"Sweet dreams!"
Rebecca started moving and Mark waited till she passed out of sight beyond the door before turning around and going back to the car.
"I would sell my soul to the devil for this woman" he said with a smile from ear to ear when he stopped in front of his friends.
"You already did, man. You must find something else he wants." Joe laughed and winked at the other Italian.
"Bella ragazza …" Stefano said smiling.
"Sì." Mark nodded still grinning.
"When will you bang her?" Joe asked in his own neglectful way.
"Joe, please! Watch your language! As I told you, she's not a spoiled, empty-headed doll. I want more than just one night with her."
"You were talking about weather along the way, huh?" Joe pouted rolling his eyes. "And you didn't grope her for sure."
"What do you think about Mark DiAngelo?" Stefano asked pretending indignation. "He's a gentleman."
"Yeah, right!" Joe laughed.
Mark smiled and put a stop to the gabfest in the open street.
"Basta! Andiamo!” he said and got in the car.
Stefano and Joe got in, too, continuing to tease him.
Rebecca waited behind the door until the limousine started off and hoped that the concierge beyond the next door wouldn’t notice her in the meantime. She didn't know what she would tell him. Then she took out her cell phone and called a cab. She waited there for only two minutes until the car stopped in front of the entrance. She went out of the house, got in and gave the address. The yellow cab started off with her to her rented flat.
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