Here’s an excerpt from The Beautiful People (Book One of The New Mafia Trilogy), now available on Amazon:
When I realized that I wasn’t going to be allowed to leave Mr. Genovese’s side, I waved for Brittany. She didn’t bounce over, instead she approached with trepidation.
“I want a Stoli and Tonic…and keep them coming.” I was going to get so drunk that I didn’t remember tonight. I needed to be numb. After I placed the order I glanced over at Dominic again. The rage was still there but he also looked sad.
“I’m sorry,” he mouthed and hung his head as if defeated, the fight had deserted him.
With each drink I became more removed from the situation. The voices and faces blurred around me. By the time I was on my sixth round, I couldn’t feel my legs, which was perfect because then I couldn’t feel Mr. Genovese touching them.
I vaguely remember getting up as the group prepared to leave. I started to walk away, but was pulled back.
“You’re coming with me.” Mr. Genovese commanded. Narrowing my eyes, I tried to concentrate what he was saying. It sounded like he was speaking underwater. The room spun and I teetered to the left, unsteady on my black leather heels. Mr. Genovese had a vice like grip on my upper arm and prevented my fall. For a man with small stature, he was deceptively strong. We walked by the bar and I reached my free arm out towards Dominic. His eyes were a dark, mossy green and full of desperation. He started to come around to the front of the bar towards me.
“Do not interfere,” Marco warned him. Dom stopped and I was yanked along with the rest of the group and taken out the rear exit. Right before I left Crimson I looked up and saw Grant being held back by Anthony “The Giant” and Miranda stood in front with her hand pressed against Grant’s chest. Anthony seemed to have a hard time holding my brother back. Grant looked like he was ready to kill.
A black Cadillac sat idling in the lot behind Crimson. A driver opened the door and Mr. Genovese forced me into the back seat. The group dispersed to other cars in the lot. Like a funeral procession, the dark sedans moved in a line down Columbus Blvd. At some point along the way I passed out. Mr. Genovese shook me awake and roughly pulled me out of the car. We were in front of The Speak. I hadn’t been here since that fateful night. Visions of bodies lying in pools of blood filled my head. I closed my eyes and was instantly dizzy. Mr. Genovese grabbed my arm again and started leading me to the front door.
I balked and stood my ground. “I am not going in there.”
Without warning or hesitation, Mr. Genovese backhanded me. My head snapped and I rocked backwards on my feet, grabbing onto the railing for support. Stunned, I rubbed my stinging cheek and glared at the older man. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins and I felt more alert, more sober. Reflexively, I slapped him back. He grinned, a crazy, unsettling grin.
“I do like the feisty ones,” he commented as he looked me over. I was suddenly self-conscious of my revealing outfit. The unspoken rule at Crimson was that the sexier you dressed, the more tips you received. Dominic understood and enjoyed watching me pour my body into tight outfits. Tonight I had chosen a ridiculously short black skirt with a black leather corset top. The corset enhanced my average breasts, which helped me to compete with the cosmetically enhanced ones of my co-workers. Black pantyhose and high black heels completed the ensemble and made my legs look endless. I considered my legs my best feature, the running I did helped to keep them sculpted and muscular. Now, I wished I had chosen a nun’s habit to wear instead.
Marco, Rico and Al walked up the sidewalk and stood behind me. The rest of the men from New York arrived seconds later and I was surprised to see Brittany with them. None of the Nuccis had joined the party.
“Stop being difficult Natalie,” Marco demanded. “Get inside.” The menacing expression on his face made my skin cold. Defeated, I followed Marco up the stairs and into the house.
We moved past Sam, the doorman, and into the bar area. The bartender was extra attentive when he saw who had entered the room. He hustled around accommodating the men from New York, especially Mr. Genovese. I had surmised that Mr. Genovese was the boss of NYC. Why else would everyone dance around at his beck and call? Mr. All Powerful kept a firm grip on my wrist, forcing me to stay by his side. My buzz was wearing off and the numbness subsiding. I ordered more drinks, determined to block as much of this night from my memory. Brittany pulled out a vial of cocaine and sorted out lines on the bar counter. She was surprised when I took the rolled up twenty dollar bill out of her hand and snorted a line up each nostril. I tilted my head back, pure bitterness sliding down the back of my throat. The effects were felt almost instantly. My heart sped up and my pulse was audible. A sip of the vodka tonic washed the rest of the bitterness down. The numbness was almost complete.
After the cocaine was brought out, the party really started to get out of hand. Everyone was wasted. Brittany started to do a strip tease and I had to look away. The sexual tension of eight men in one room and only two women was tangible. Despite all of the alcohol and the coke, my nerves were on edge.
Mr. Genovese – Luigi to his friends – started to get a little too friendly. I tried to shrug him off and he got more aggressive. I stepped away and broke free of his grasp.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I grumbled. The bathroom was off of the hallway. When I turned into the hall I half expected the bodies to be there with blood oozing from broken skulls, but no evidence of the crime was visible. I was too caught up in my memory that I didn’t notice Uncle Marco following me out of the bar. Grabbing me from behind, he spun me around, pinning me against the wall with his hand on my throat. I gasped for air and struggled against his grip.
“You will do whatever Luigi wants and you will stop being difficult. I own you and I own your brother, remember? You will do as I say.” It felt like my eyes were going to burst from the pressure and little black spots danced in front of me.
He released me and I collapsed in a heap on the floor, sucking in big gulps of air. “I und-er-sta-nd,” I managed to choke out. Satisfied, Marco left me on the floor. Down by the front door Sam stared off into the corner, pretending to be oblivious. Crawling into the bathroom, I struggled to regain my composure. I looked into the mirror to assess the damage. My eyes were wide with shock, and dark next to my pale skin. An impression of Marco’s hand remained a red phantom on my neck. I combed my fingers through my hair, splashed cold water onto my face and focused on getting my breathing under control. I really wanted to hide in the bathroom and wait the nightmare out, but I wasn’t easily forgotten as Marco was soon pounding on the door.
I started to open the door slowly, but Marco forced it open. “Mr. Genovese is waiting for you upstairs, the first door on the left.”
So this is how it was going to be; pimped out like some cheap whore? I was backed into a corner without any options. Unwillingly, I made my way up the stairs.
Click here to purchase The Beautiful People: http://www.amazon.com/Beautiful-People-New-Mafia-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B00G6Q0AES/ref=la_B00BFS3JW2_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1385430916&sr=1-3