Lorenzo: A Mafia Boss Series

Chapter 4 ~ Lorenzo

~Carmen POV~



I could feel Lorenzo’s eyes on me as I walked away from him, probably checking out my ass. He was such a dog, and I couldn’t for the life of me understand why so many women would fall all over themselves to be with him. Sure, he was good-looking and rich, and, on some level, was charming if you could bypass that everything that came out of his mouth was a ploy to get you in bed. If his smooth talking did not hook you in, his bad boy, danger persona certainly could… If you were into that kind of thing. But for me, this would not be enough to forget the fact that he most likely humped every woman in here.

Paula was all too gleeful to tell her little circle of fake friends that she was giving him a blowjob in the copy room when I overheard them talking in the girl’s bathroom. I know she knew that I was in the bathroom stall, and I suspect she said it for my benefit. We weren’t friends and I imagined if I wasn’t the executive assistant to her boss’s wife, she would have made her dislike shown instead of this passive-aggressive indirect bullshit. But as it stands, I was and beyond that Isabella Bernardi is one of my closest childhood friends, so Paula knew not to overstep. All she had left was to try to stake a claim by going on and on about Lorenzo Bernardi-Giordano and his big d**k like I cared.

I washed my hands and made my way out of the bathroom, too busy with my own s**t to entertain high school level foolishness by grown people who should know better. I wasn’t sure why Paula even went to such lengths; I could not stand Lorenzo. If anyone thought otherwise, they should get their heads examined. The truth of the matter was I was not into any men and hadn’t been in any relationship for going on three years. This was exactly how I preferred it. I had my routines, and I could not have anyone interrupt any of that. It all but cemented my sentiments when Lorenzo bumped into me, causing me to drop my folders that I had spent the better part of two days organizing for our monthly Rinacista executive morning meeting with Victor Bernardi. Although today’s morning meeting was delayed by a few hours.

These monthly meetings were no joke and somehow, someway, Victor would ask about some random figure that Bella and I were not ready for and would have to project its profit impact, good or bad. This was extremely hard to do, given our business was fashion and who in the heck could predict what the fashion trends would be in two, never mind, four quarters? But that’s what we had to do and, surprisingly, it worked. I soon found out what made Victor Bernardi the business prodigy and genius he was despite his age at barely thirty-five years old. These future projections tended to be right on the money, creating a forward-thinking business model.

It was funny how even as Victor and Bella were married, and I had seen and socialized with him in many casual settings in numerous Bernardi family functions, he was “Mr. Bernardi” in the boardroom. If you didn’t know, you could miss that they were married and even as they had a strong, unmistakable attraction to one another, which wasn’t hard given what Victor looked like, there were no visible signs of favoritism.

Despite the potentially disastrous disruption to my flow minutes before our monthly meeting, it all went relatively well. Isabella delivered a polished presentation and all the back-office research I did proved to be beneficial. Mr. Bernardi was not easily impressed, but by the look he was giving her after the meeting, he appeared to be just that. So much so that he dismissed us for the rest of the day, at barely 2 pm, asking Isabella to stay back to finalize some loose ends. We did not have to guess what these loose ends were. Though I didn’t believe in love and relationships, I was happy for my friend. It seemed as though the arranged marriage that she had feared would be a disaster was turning out to be an epic love story.

Isabella and I had known each other since we were fourteen years old. I was slightly older than her by a few months. We were different in so many ways. Where she was vocal about her feelings and would share some aspects of her problems with me, I was quiet and reserved. I have learned to keep everything in its proper place. Everything had a compartment. One for family, friends, work, and home. Neat and tidy. That’s not to say that Isabella did not have her own secrets, given the nature of her long-rumored family business and now marriage to Victor Bernardi, who no one seemed to ever want to cross. I wasn’t stupid enough to start asking questions. So, our friendship was one of mutual love, understanding, well-established boundaries and unspoken secrets.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have other friends. But these days, I have stayed away from my previous circle and maintained a smaller group. I have become good friends with Gia, Isabella’s cousin-in-law and Lorenzo’s older sister, but by in large, Isabella was my only family, so to speak, and knew me the best. I grew up in a strict household. My father was a judge and had been throughout my childhood. My mother was a district attorney, before she decided to go into private practice, focusing on international law. My older brother, Darius Maxwell Hamilton, was the current lead District Attorney of Manhattan. My little brother, Malcolm, was entering high school and was getting a lot of buzz for his basketball skills. At six-feet-three- inches tall at barely fifteen years old, he commanded a lot of attention from the college and pro scouts. Not that my father would ever let him go into basketball as a profession. My father, the Honorable Judge Irving Eugene Hamilton, had a lot of high hopes for his children. As a current State Supreme Court Justice with ambitions to reach the U.S. Supreme Court, he was not going to stand for a child of his to be a mere athlete.

Needless to say, my parents had a lot of expectations for me as well, believing I would follow in their footsteps into law. For a long time, I thought that was what I would indeed do, even studying Law at Harvard University. But it didn’t happen that way. I couldn’t devote myself to “Law and Order” and “Justice for All”, knowing what I knew. Not everyone received justice. The law was not blind and whether you were innocent or guilty, justice was a privilege that only the very powerful wielded.

Once I learned that lesson and quit college six months from my graduation, my father disowned me. I wasn’t surprised that my mom and siblings followed. My father was not someone you could defy. He made it clear if I ever wanted to be back in this family again, I had to finish college and follow his rules. My little brother, Malcolm, was the only one who I had regular contact with, communicating in secret with fake aliases from time to time.

My father assumed I would fall back in line fairly quickly, but I never did. I made up my mind then that whatever I did, whoever I was to become, I was never going to go back into that house again pretending that what happened didn’t happen. It’s been over two and a half years since. I spent the first year out on my own, bartending in a bar and waitressing in a diner in Queens. I got a small one-bedroom, three-room-apartment in Crown Heights, Brooklyn. My apartment was smaller than the size of my bedroom growing up, but I didn’t care. It was mine. Though the neighborhood was a little seedy, I was no longer the privileged socialite I once was. I was tougher and could handle myself. I relied on public transportation and from the outside world I blended in, a normal black girl from Brooklyn with an attitude to match. Though I was of mixed race with my dad being African American and my mom Irish American, society only saw a black girl. So, I learned to embrace it fairly early on growing up, as it was tiresome trying to explain the nuances of my ethnicity to people whose narrow world view could only see Black or White.

My new life, as suspected, was met with some difficulty. I soon realized that my attitude and the chump change I was making could not pay the bills. I needed a third job. I applied for a temp job as a secretary in a fashion house in Queens, not realizing it was the company that Isabella started. Once we reconnected, it was like old times. Rinascita was the lifeline I had been waiting for. I soon realized I had a real knack for business and budgeting. Once we merged with Bernardi Corporation, I was given a raise, no longer requiring me to have multiple side jobs.

That didn’t mean I was not a workaholic. It’s three hours since everyone in the office had left, and I was still here organizing the winter fashion portfolio. I was not a fashion designer like Bella or our lead designer, Kado. But I did have an eye for fashion and could get great fabrics at a bargain in Chinatown. Though that skill was no longer as needed, given Victor Bernardi was richer than God, I still loved getting the biggest bang for my buck. I looked at the time and saw it was already 6 pm. I figured I could get some exercise in before the 8 pm #2 train was due to arrive. I had plans to meet up with Kado and his friends for drinks in Queens but after some thought, I texted him that I had changed my mind. Though it was a Friday, I wasn’t in the mood to go out. Most weekends, I stayed in.

I made my way down to the fully equipped gym on the 5th floor of the Bernardi Corp. building. As expected, it was empty. I went to the women's locker room and changed into my gym clothes. After an hour on the treadmill, I went to the showers in the women's locker room. I noticed there was yellow tape on all three of the shower stalls with a sign that read, “Out of service." I hated to get on the train in this condition. I decided to go to the Men’s Locker Room. I knew I was the only one here. It was slightly different to the girl’s locker room. The shower stalls seem to be located toward the back. I took off my gym clothes and wrapped a towel around me. I got my soap and loofah and decided to go into the first stall. I unwrapped my towel, but before I could pull the curtain back, I saw a hand wrap around the curtain from the other side and pulled open. Before my mind could process it, a naked Lorenzo was standing in front of me. His eyes widened in confusion as he took a quick look at me.

“Aaaaaah!” I screamed, startling back onto earth.

“Oh Jesus!” he yelled as he rushed to pull the curtain around his waist, and I tried my best not to look at his member. I hastily grabbed the towel I had hung up and wrapped it around me.

“What are you doing here!” I screeched a little louder than it registered to me just yet.

Lorenzo looked at me in disbelief. “Me!” He shouted back.

“Yes, YOU!…. You…. PERVERT! What are you doing…. hanging out here creeping at unsuspecting women!” I scream in accusation, losing my s**t.

“ME! Carmen. I’m the one in the shower…. in the MEN’s Locker room! How the f**k did you not hear the water running—“

I cut him off, “I had my ear buds on! And the girl’s showers are being serviced,” I spat as I finally realized my ear buds was still in my ears blaring out my music compilation. I abruptly removed them, flustered over the whole incident.

I couldn’t help seeing his muscular chest glistening with water. He smirked. “It looks like you are the pervert, trying to creep at unassuming men,” he teased, and I could feel my face redden in anger or embarrassment. I didn’t know which.

My eyebrows furrowed as I gave him a death glare, “You wish!”

I stormed off, grabbing my gym bag and made my way to the girl's locker room. I put on my clothes, disregarding the sweaty, sticky feel of them from my hour-long exercise and, if I was honest, my involuntary body response from seeing Lorenzo. Before long, I was outside walking down to the Manhattan subway station, still steaming mad for more reasons than just what happened in the locker room. It was 8:20 pm. I had missed my train. The next one would not arrive for two hours.

As I walked down the sidewalk, I saw a black and red Lamborghini sports car slowing down. I didn’t have time for this. I clutched my purse that had my pepper spray a little more tightly.

I kept my head straight and kept walking. I then heard a familiar voice saying, “You need a ride?”

Without looking at Lorenzo, I curtly replied, “No, I don’t.”

He continued, not deterred, “It’s getting late and —"I cut him off.

“I’m fine.”

I don’t know why I’ve been running into this man all day. I have known him for close to seven months now and could count on one hand how many times I’ve spoken to him before today but yet now it seemed I could not go an hour without seeing or conversing with him. Just then his very naked image flashed into my mind. I thought of his wet hair, his chiseled jaw, puffy lips and muscular chest and let’s not forget about the impressive package that I guess Paula was not exaggerating about. I could feel my face getting red again.

“Carmen, just get in the f*****g car!” Lorenzo commanded, bringing me out of my dirty thoughts.

I don’t know why I was listening, but before I knew it, I was opening the car door and climbing inside.

“Great, you have some sense,” he said in a muffled voice, short-circuiting my sudden compliance.

“That’s it!” I shouted in annoyance as I attempted to open the car door even as it was clearly moving. Lorenzo, being the complete jerk he was, pressed on the gas, propelling me back in an ungraceful heap against the leather seat.

“Aaaaah,” I screeched as I grabbed the seat belt.

He laughed, and I don’t know why that made my belly flutter. This was strange for me. I had but all rid any thoughts and feelings about men, s*x and relationships from my life.

“Ok. I’m not going to kill you,” he mused as he took his hand, sight unseen and expertly clipped my seat belt in place while still driving.

I muttered, “I’m glad.”

“So, where are we heading?” he asked in a sultry voice that made me moisten.

“Kingston Ave, Crowns Heights!” I clipped back, too urgent than it needed to be. I could see a slight facial reaction form on Lorenzo’s face before he quickly pulled it back.

“Crowns Heights it is!” he repeated as he accelerated onto the highway with my heart in my throat.