Bound to the Demanding Don

Chapter 1: Name Your Price Leo POV One night. Just one night with me. That's all I want. For now. I've won over bigger fish than this twenty-two-year-old hunk of man from Queens. This black-haired fresh-faced son of Italy, born in New York. This man with startling green eyes who used to hide behind horn-rimmed glasses. Oh, he still wears them, but he doesn't hide. Not from me, Leandro “Leo" Santelli, head of the Santelli crime family. “You'll stay tonight," I assert. A statement, not a question. Cutting a Cuban with a cigar cutter, I take my time lighting it and blow fragrant smoke. I open the antique rosewood humidor and select another Cuban, then extend it to him. Vittorio Angeli holds up his hands. “No, I'm good. About the cigar, I mean." “Ever tried one?" I lean back, my designer bespoke suit fitting my muscular body. My tie is loosened, my shirt unbuttoned. It's after hours, at least as far as I'm concerned. Considering he's my new sugar baby, Vittorio doesn't spend much money on clothes. He looks decent in a polo shirt and jeans, but he's not wearing any of the clothes I picked out for him. “Once you've had one, you'll realize you haven't lived until you do," I add. “I know you don't smoke and don't do drugs, but one cigar won't hurt you." “I've never smoked anything. Well, other than trying my friend's cigarette when I was thirteen. I coughed and turned green." He says all this without any reserve, no holding back, and I puff on my cigar to conceal my triumph. It's the first time he's told me anything personal. Call me crazy, but I like to know a bit about my sugar baby. “So, you were a normal kid," I conclude with a smile. “All kids try forbidden things, just to test the boundaries. That's the buzzword nowadays, 'boundaries.'" He plays it cool. “I was your average kid. Getting into a little mischief. I wasn't a bad kid, but I wasn't a perfect angel." “Matter of opinion. Your name is Angeli. You have the face of an angel. All you need are wings and that golden aura from all those Renaissance paintings." I hand him the unlit cigar. “Smoke it now, or don't." “I'll save it for later," he decides, slipping it into his shirt pocket. “Later tonight when you stay with me?" I press him. A shadow falls over his eyes. “I've got plans–" “Cancel them. I don't ask for a lot, but I do ask that you be available when I want it, and you've never spent the night." My body burns with the memory of the last six weeks since Vittorio agreed to become my sugar baby. His lean, muscular body is definite beefcake material. Not in a gym rat kind of way, but in a sexy, understated way. I can get the gym rats. The bodybuilders. I've known more than a few of them. They don't interest me. “Leo." His voice trembles. Afraid or excited or both? “I can't–" “I want to spoil you, caro mio. I can't do that when you keep running off after sex." He tries to brazen it out. “You always have work. And I have…I have clients." He grins, lopsided. “And money to spend." I push my leather desk chair back to give him room, prop my cigar in an ashtray on my desk, and pat my lap. “Come here." Like a shy puppy, he approaches me. The anticipation is so good that I almost want it to last. Very few people give me the thrill of the chase like he does. When all that exquisite maleness is within reach, I pull him down onto my lap. “How's that? A throne for my little prince," I say in a husky voice. His bottom wiggles as he gets comfortable. “I could get used to this." My hands glide over his body, feeling the warmth beneath my fingertips. “That's easily arranged. Come home with me tonight." “I…I have some things to attend to," he hedges, his eyes closing in pleasure. So responsive. So willing. “They can't wait," he adds. “Is that regret I hear, my beautiful boy?" My palm rests over his heart, and I feel the sharp intake of breath in his broad, strong chest. “Regret over leaving to do what it is you gotta do?" “You're not making this easy." “Good. Because I'll give you anything you want if you finish whatever it is that's distracting you and come to me tonight. Anything you want. The most expensive champagne in New York. Sharing a luxury box at Yankee Stadium. The best computer system money can buy to replace the one you got." He stiffens. “I built that computer myself when I was fourteen." My eyes widen. “What are you, Steve Jobs Jr.?" “Actually, I'm like his fellow geek and business partner Woz. Steve Wozniak." “Fascinating." My hands explore everywhere, skirting his most sensitive areas. Let him want me. Let him hunger for me until I'm the only thing he craves. “I had no idea you were such a prodigy, all wrapped up in sin." “Leo…" “Just tell me what you want. Not what you think you deserve. But what you want." He trembles. “A million dollars." My eyebrows shoot up. Bold. He's asking for a princely sum. But what else do I bust my tail for, running legit and illegal gambling, cybercrime, extortion, racketeering, gunrunning, and those are just the appetizers? “Done. But no more excuses. How long will these errands of yours take?" Vittorio's chest rises and falls as he exhales deeply. I can feel his relief. Whatever he needs this money for, it clearly is important to him. “It'll only take a couple of hours." He glances out my office window, watching the late afternoon light turn dark gold and illuminate the Manhattan skyline. “I have to make a payment." I smile at how earnest he seems, especially the way he curls his lip when he's thinking. “You do that. But you can't leave empty-handed." With just a few taps on my phone, I transfer the money to his account, and he stares at me like I'm a god. “Um…thank you." “You want to thank me? Wear that sexy black outfit I got you," I say huskily. “I'll send a car for you at seven. Get ready for the night of your life." His fingers stroke the faded scar on my cheek, and it's all I can do not to shut my eyes at how gentle his touch is. “Thank you. That seems inadequate. I promise tonight will be a good night." My eyes open and lock on his like I'm locking on a target. “We'll start with dinner, caro. You will love it." He disentangles from me, his hands trembling, and something falls into my lap without him noticing. Something hard and metallic. But before I can say anything, he's checking his phone. “I'm late. I'll see you at seven." He rushes out, the picture of youth and energy. Even in my mid-thirties, I feel like I'm twice his age. Maybe this night will rejuvenate me, and give back what I've lost in this life of crime. Speaking of loss, I fish the cool metal object out of my lap and examine it. It feels as if the bottom of my world just dropped out. In my hand is a signet ring with an engraved snarling wolf's head. I've seen that emblem before. It's the symbol of my bitterest enemy, Raoul Toscanini. A man who wants to dethrone me. A man who's vanished into the shadows. Rumor has it that he had a child. I met his wife, but no one knows what happened to her. Could Vittorio Angeli be my sworn enemy's son?