Leave Me Breathless: The Black Rose Collection Read online

  “Careful with your tongue, Krissy. Jonah may not be a prizefighter…”

  “Are you kidding, Granny? He isn’t even the water boy.”

  “Be that as it may, Sweetheart, Jonah isn’t much, but he’s your only option in this town.”

  Kristine knew her Granny spoke the truth. Middleton was twenty minutes from everywhere, yet failed to catch the eyes of any business developers who opened stores in towns all over Kansas. With a population of less than three thousand, Kristine didn’t see prosperity knocking on Middleton’s door anytime soon.

  “Speaking of prize fighters…”

  “Way ahead of you, Krissy. I’ve got two beers I saved from my bridge club meeting I’ll put in the fridge to get nice and cold.”

  “Granny, you holding out on the fine ladies in the church?” Kristine teased, picking up the grocery bag and slinging her purse over her shoulder.

  “Considering there ain’t a lady in that church,” Kristine and Birdie spun in the direction of the now open door, the surprise fading from their faces as they recognize the woman standing in the open door.

  “Rose, I didn’t hear you come in.” Kristine greeted as she stepped around her granny’s neighbor and best friend. Rose was a gem of a woman, kind-hearted and funny as they come. She and Birdie had been instant friends since the moment they met when Rose moved in next door thirty years ago.

  “I’m not surprised,” Rose leaned over to kiss Kristine’s cheek. “Probably deaf from all that snoring I heard last night.”

  “And on that note, I have to go or I’ll be late for work.” Stepping to the side, she placed a kiss to Birdie’s cheek. “I’ll be back in time for the fight. You, me and the devastatingly handsome Kane Cavallo and some other guy we don’t care about.”

  Birdie loved to see the excitement on Kristine’s face as she shared her love of boxing. She wished she could afford to take her to a live event, but with their limited funds, the best she could do was the overpriced internet cable service Kristine worked a little extra for each month.

  “Have a good day, Sweetheart. And make sure you hide your lunch, can’t have you coming home hungry because of a thief.”

  “That thief has a name, Granny. And not to worry, I have a way of keeping him out of my food.” Kristine sent a wink in Rose’s direction, never more grateful for the devious side of the sweet old woman who had more tricks up her sleeve than Houdini.

  “You ladies behave today, don’t want to hear about the Sheriff showing up because of your shenanigans.”

  Birdie watched Kristine back down the drive and then pull onto the road behind the wheel of her ancient Chevy. The car was older than dirt when she gave her the keys for her seventeenth birthday, but Kristine worked hard and kept the car clean and running, just as she did everything she touched. Birdie knew Kristine was meant for bigger things than this one-horse town, but she feared what would happen if she ever left to pursue the dreams Birdie imagined ran through the young woman’s head.

  Gripping the edge of the sink, it was time to tell her the truth. Tonight, she vowed, tonight she would tell her everything, she prayed Kristine wouldn’t hate her.

  2

  Gino stepped out of his family’s private jet, donning his sunglasses as the sun of an early New York day nearly blinded him. Reaching down, he checked the buttons on his tailored suit before descending the stairs onto the tarmac.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Vitale.” His driver greeted, opening the back door of his limo and stepping to the side.

  “Morning, Niko. Anything I need to know about while I was gone?”

  Niko worked for the family since before Gino was born, he’d taught Gino how to drive, and turned a blind eye when he took one of his father’s cars out for a joy ride.

  “Mario and Sully had another meeting,” Niko whispered, jerking his head toward the back of the limo. “They asked me to drop Mario off at the main airport before picking you up.”

  Gino leaned in, slipping five one hundred-dollar bills into Niko's hand. “Do we know where he went?”

  “No, sir. Mario jumped out of the car before I could get it in park.”

  “I’ll double the tip if you find out where he went.”

  “Shouldn’t be difficult.”

  Gino slid his tall frame into the back of the limo, the mind-numbing music his brother, Sully, insisted upon listening to rattling the windows.

  “Motherfucker, how many times do I have to tell you not to listen to this shit in my car?” Gino demanded as he slammed his hand on the power button of the stereo, bringing back the glorious silence he preferred over the cats in heat bullshit his brother called music.

  “Here I got up early to welcome you home and this is the thanks I get. What’s wrong Gino, couldn’t score any Italian pussy while you were away?” Sully shot back, his focus remaining on the screen of his cellphone.

  Gino leaned his head back against the seat, a headache lingering from the day before pounding at his temples, his brother’s juvenile antics in making jokes annoyed him more than anything. Sully would be green with envy if he knew just how deep in pussy Gino was two nights ago, the reason for both his exhaustion and headache.

  Sully could sense something was up when Gino failed to respond to his jabbing. Pocketing his phone, he decided to take a different approach. “How is your mother?”

  Sully and Gino were half-brothers who shared the same father, a man who possessed two loves in his life, money and woman. With a vested interest in both, he produced four children with three different women, one of them being his wife and Gino’s mother.

  “She’s excellent, sends her love.”

  “Really?” Sully questioned his voice colored with excitement.

  Gino opened his left eye, turning his head slightly in Sully’s direction. “Fuck no, man. My Ma hates you and that leech you call a sister.”

  Sully sank back into the leather seat. He never understood why he felt the need to have Gino’s mother’s approval, maybe it had something to do with how bad his own mother fixated on her, trying everything in her power to be exactly like the Sicilian beauty everyone adored.

  “Speaking of Antonia,” Sully started in an attempt to redirect the conversation. “You know her birthday party is tonight.”

  “The fight is tonight.” Where their father loved money, Gino loved a good boxing match, willing to skip just about anything to catch one. He had his eye on a middleweight boxer, a kid from upstate New York who was currently undefeated. Gino witnessed him fight a few months back and was impressed with his skill. He wanted to talk with him, feel him out for a possible partnership and see how far he could take this guy.

  “You can at least stop by and say hello.” Sully challenged, knowing it was wasted breath. If one thing was true about his brother when he had his mind made up, he didn’t change it, no matter who he offended.

  “Who’s invited?”

  “The usual.”

  “Which means Felicia.” Gino grimaced as the dreadful name rolled off his lips.

  “Why are you so against Felicia? It would make dad happy to see the two of you together.”

  Where Sully spent every waking moment trying to please their father and gain his favor, Gino could give a shit less about the lying bastard. Which was, in part, the reason he didn’t like Felicia, the niece of an associate and Family leader, Emilio Vittorio.

  “I’d rather suck my own dick than have her anywhere near me.” Gino made it loud and clear how much he loathed Felicia Vittorio; despite his father’s insistence he take the necessary steps to make her a part of his life. Her parents went to great lengths, spending thousands upon thousands of dollars, to make her appealing in his eyes. The trouble with Felicia wasn’t the way she looked—she was fucking gorgeous, but she possessed the personality of a brick wall, something Gino had neither the time nor the patience for. With his connections and role in the Family, if he wanted to fuck a gorgeous woman there were plenty available to him, negating the only thing Gino would ever ne
ed Felicia for.

  “You could do a lot worse.” Sully surmised, glancing out the side window at his approaching destination.

  With Gino’s headache increasing and patience waning, he’d reached his limit of brotherly bonding. “And you could tell me the real reason why the fuck you’re here instead of balls-deep in whichever one of the girls you went home with last night.”

  “Jealous?” Sully challenged, hoping to get a rise out of his older brother.

  Gino had too much on his mind to play games with Sully, he needed a hot shower and several hours of uninterrupted sleep before having a sit down with his father.

  “If you really must know, Sully. I’ve just spent the last few days dealing with shit I don’t want to talk about, sitting in a room with motherfuckers I don’t particularly care for. The only fucking thing about you I’m jealous of is you’re wearing a clean suit.”

  Two things were a constant when it came to Gino Vitale; one, there were few people in his world who were allowed to call him by his full name and continue to draw a breath. Two, he never wore the same suit twice. His closet was full of designer labels his personal shopper placed there once a month. To Gino, clean meant never worn, something his mother started, and he never grew out of.

  Sully settled back into the leather seat using the guise of scanning the face of his cellphone to mask his pondering of what Gino said. His understanding of Gino’s trip to Sicily was to visit his mother and sister, something he did on a regular basis. Was the Family branching out? Would Gino move to Sicily, leaving the running of New Jersey’s operations to him? Excitement bubbled in his chest. He’d worked hard to prove his value to the Family, and if what he suspected was true, this changed everything.

  Gino’s eyes felt as if they had grains of sand stuck behind his lids, a penance he assumed for overindulgence the past few days. He’d made the mistake of laying down after his shower, his body’s need for rest overriding his need to check on a few of his investments. Now he would need to hurry if he wanted to make his meeting with a potential new venture on time. Donning a new suit, Gino jumped behind the wheel of his car, pushing the gas to the floor as he whipped into traffic. The blaring horns and raised middle fingers caused him to smile and a sense of being welcomed home. Gino was born in Sicily, remaining there with his mother and younger sister until his father called him to the States to begin molding him to take over the Family. He grew to love the harden streets his father and uncle introduced him to, craving the adrenaline rush he received when things became heated.

  Pulling into the parking lot of the gym he owned. The business a gift from his uncle Johnny when he died, the man responsible for taking him to watch his first boxing match and fall head over heels for the sport. Exiting his car, Gino took a look at his phone, the fucking thing was vibrating and irritating the shit out of him. His frustration increased as his phone was full of messages, photos of Antonia getting ready for her party with her douche friends. He’d half a mind to block her number, but then he would have to listen to his father bitch about being available to the women in the family. Gino argued with his father on countless occasions over the difference between his sister, Sophia, a beautiful woman who knew her place and didn’t cause issues, and the illegitimate bitch, Antonia, who couldn’t keep her mouth shut requiring legal intervention when she landed in jail.

  Pocketing his phone, a smile curled the side of his lips at the war his father would rage when he failed to attend the ungrateful brat’s birthday party. He’d gladly go toe-to-toe with the dirty old bastard, payback for all the shit he’d put his mother through.

  Heavy metal music blared from the speakers overhead as Gino walked through the door, several heads nod to him in respect as he made his way to the back of the room where the man he’d come to see stood in front of the speed bag, his fists a white blur as he keeps a perfect rhythm.

  “Hey, Gino,” a female voice purred to his left, a well-manicured hand landing in the center of his pressed shirt. Red hair framed the face of Holly, one of the girls who made themselves available to his men, her blue eyes, partially hidden behind thick eyelashes. Gazing up at him, she ran her index finger up the buttons of his shirt, leaning her ample tits against his chest. Any other time he would have taken her over to one of the machines, bent her over and fucked the shit out of her. He’d done it before, more than a few times, and he would now if he didn’t have more pressing matters to attend.

  “Not now,” Gino barked, pushing her hands off him as he stepped to the side. He ignored her calling his name in protest, the annoying voice she used stirring up the headache he’d failed to sleep off. When she continued, Gino looked to one of the men lifting weights, a snap of his head silently conveying the order to get rid of her. Girls like Holly were plentiful, those who were chosen knew what was expected of them and accepted it in exchange for the benefits they received. Clearly Holly had outgrown her usefulness.

  Nearing the back of the room, Gino stood several feet from the young boxer who was turning heads all over New York, Kane Cavallo. The guy possessed speed and skill, with one hell of an uppercut, and was currently undefeated. He came from a family bathing in money, which made Gino have to dig deep to come up with an offer he couldn’t refuse.

  “Hey, Kane,” A man dressed in track pants and a warmup jacket shouted, the lettering on his back read KING, as in Brody King, Cavallo’s trainer, and the in Gino managed to find. King had skeletons in his closet, ones, if they fell into the wrong hands could ruin him. Gino offered to guard said skeletons for him…at a price.

  Gino remained stoic as Brody unwrapped the tape from Kane’s hands, speaking to him in a hushed voice. Kane nodded repeatedly but kept his eyes trained on the floor, sweat dripping down his face and onto his gray t-shirt. With a pat on Kane’s shoulder, his eyes flash to Gino.

  “Kane, this is Gino Vitale. Gino, Kane Cavallo.”

  Kane reached his hand out to Gino but didn’t say anything as they shook hands, something Gino appreciated.

  “Saw you fight in Queens last month, knocked the motherfucker out in the first round. A little flashy don’t you think?”

  A smirk curled up the side of Kane’s face, his hands hooking on his hips. “Isn’t that the point of boxing, knock the other guy out first?”

  “Not if you want a heavyweight belt tossed over your shoulder.” Gino let his retort hang in the air, giving the man who was a few months younger than him a minute to think about it. Kane wasn’t a stupid man; his Ivy League education and scholastic achievements were living proof.

  “Tell me, Kane. Why do you have the same heavy metal song playing every time you make your way to the ring? And the lights dancing to the music as you make your way down the aisle, are they to Illuminate your path? Everything about boxing, from the trunks your designer chooses, to the Ring Girls who parade around the mat between rounds, are there for entertainment. Spectators are there not just to see you, but to enjoy themselves. Knocking your opponent out in the first ten seconds may give you a win, but it won’t make you a champion. Promoters need a product, not a liability, and it's your job to give them what they want.”

  Gino knew from the disappearing smirk and shift of stature, he’d made his point, now to bring it home. Where his father taught him the fine art of seducing women, his Uncle Saul taught him everything about making deals. “You have the skill, and based on your family name, you have the means. What you don’t have is a promoter. Someone with the right connections to get you into the type of venue you need to start winning your way to the top.”

  Three hours later, Gino stood with his back to the wall, a signed contract in his jacket pocket and his newest venture punching the shit out of a guy he didn’t care enough about to recall his name. He ignored his vibrating phone, confident it was either his father or Antonia, neither having anything to say he wanted to hear. Instead, he perused the crowd, taking in the electricity in the air, men standing on their feet, shouting instructions that would never be heard. He watched as Kane
delivered a series of punches, driving his opponent further to the breaking point before the bell rang signifying the end of round three.

  “What did I miss?”

  Gino swung his head to the left to find Sully standing beside him, his brown eyes glued to the busty redhead with the number four over her head.

  “Why are you here?” Gino returned his attention to the ring. His question is redundant, his brother’s attendance to one of these is as rare as a virgin birth.

  “Couldn’t leave my brother hanging.”

  Gino rolled his eyes internally, Sully’s need to be here had zero to do with any bonding and everything to do with his primary job of being their father's lap dog. Every day was a competition, a new way for Sully to show their father he was just as good as his older brother. Gino’s suspicion was confirmed when Sully pulled out his cell, typing like a fucking teen as Kane sprang from his corner sending the poor sap to the mat with his signature uppercut, ending the match and remaining undefeated.

  Gino pushed off the wall, filtering his way through the thick crowd to where Brody and Kane made their way back to the dressing room. He’d arranged a celebration for his champion, a little something to take the edge off the copious amounts of testosterone pulsing through Kane’s system. A smile formed on Gino’s face as he pushed open the metal door finding the two Ring Girls, naked as the day there were born, the brunette on her knees before the redhead, her tongue buried in her snatch.

  Loosening his belt, Gino stepped behind the redhead, placing his hand in the center of her back, pushing her forward as he pulled his rock-hard cock from his dress slacks. Sliding his dick against the wet pussy of the redhead, the brunette licks his head before allowing it to slide into her mouth.

  “Kane, you married?” Gino grunted through a clenched jaw, as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.