Blood in the Golden Palace

Chapter 1: Angelo-2

“Do we have any ideas?”

“No. But we are sure they are not important. This storehouse was a kept secret, yes, but not our most valuable one. As far as we know, the Palace is safe.” Luciano leaned back in his chair, taking a drag. “Though I guess we have you to thank for that.”

Angelo flashed a smile and stood, walking over to the window. “So?” he said. “What’s our plan here?”

“I have instructed Gio to be alert. Mario and Joseph are doing the same. We are to be cautious until we find our man, or at least until he flees.”

“I’ll be sure to follow suit then,” said Angelo. “I’ll call a meeting with the staff here. See what I can find out.”

Luciano lingered, thoughtfully, before standing to his feet. He rounded to Angelo, his expression taut and serious. “Angelo,” he said, “what has that Tumolo boy been up to lately?”

Immediately, Angelo felt his defenses rise. “What, you mean Ernie?” he said. “Pop, Ernie isn’t a rat.”

“You are sure about this?”

“Positive.”

Luciano rubbed his eyes, letting his true age shine through that stone cold veneer for just a moment. “You are too soft, Angelo.”

“I’m telling you—”

“And if you are telling me wrong?” Luciano snapped back to Angelo, anger burning his eyes. “You’ve always been too soft with him, always. Cleaning up after his messes, putting your own reputation on the line.”

“He’s my friend.”

“And this is business.”

“Well what about you then?” Angelo shot back. “How do you know that Gio hasn’t pulled the wool over your eyes all this time?”

A flash of rage hit Luciano’s face. As he spoke, that Italian drawl in his words thickened up. “Don’t you dare suggest that Giovani would betray me. What, you run this place for a few years, you think you’re fit to be the Don? No. No. Sei diventato pazzo? You may not know what true brotherhood is, but I can stake my very life on his loyalty—”

“All right, all right, Christ.” Angelo took another long drag of his smoke before stubbing it out in his father’s ash tray. “Look, would you feel better if I put eyes on Ernie for a little bit? Just to prove that he’s not our guy?” Luciano took a moment to consider the offer, and then nodded. “Fine. I’ll get Al to keep tabs on him, but I’m telling you you’re wasting your time.” Luciano didn’t retaliate, which Angelo took as a dismissal. Without another word, Angelo left his father’s office. Nicoletta was waiting for him at the bar, but Angelo didn’t feel like passing the message along just yet. Heading into the men’s room, he went to the sink to wash his face. Patting it dry, he stared at himself.

There were some features he shared with Luciano, surely. They both had a rather strong jawline, for one thing, and shared the same imposing height. That was, however, where the similarities stopped. While Luciano’s hair was combed expertly, Angelo’s had a habit of staying in wild, devilish curls, no matter how hard he tried flattening it down. His skin was warm, like sun-kissed earth, and his eyes were a vivid, haunting green, with flakes of gold that danced in his gaze. Angelo rolled his neck beneath his hand, hearing a few pops in his shoulders. He was barely thirty, but all the stress of the business often left his body tensed. Like his spine was a link of chains, pulled far too taut.

Leaving the restroom, he finally approached Nicoletta. The bartender—Tammy was her name? Maybe? It was hard to keep track—poured him a scotch and soda without asking. Angelo nodded in thanks and turned to Nicoletta.

“Well?” she pried. “What’s the news?”

Angelo glanced at the bartender. She was a cute little thing, with short cropped hair and some impressive earrings. “Give us a second, would you, honey?” The bartender nodded and stepped away. With a sip of his drink, Angelo leaned in further. “We got a rat problem.”

“Oh s**t. Does Pop—?”

“He’s got no idea. We’re keeping it quiet for now. Going to see if we can find them without causing a fuss.”

“Hm.” Nicoletta sipped her martini. Angelo wondered how many that made tonight, not that he had much room to talk. “Guess that means you’re gonna be busy for the foreseeable future,” she said.

“Probably. Why?”

Nicoletta put on a pseudo-official air. “Well as your floor manager, I feel like I should tell you that we have another employee turnover.”

“What, again? What happened this time?”

“Some of the girls got caught selling on the side. I know you like to keep this place clean, so I’ll do the dirty work tonight after their shift.”

“Ugh.” Angelo rubbed his temple. “That means we gotta hire again, don’t we?”

“It sure does.”

“Fine. You got some resumes for me?”

“Down in your office. Already laid out a few.”

“Well…” Angelo finished his scotch and pushed the empty glass aside. “Duty calls then, I guess.” He stood and straightened out his blazer, before turning to Nicoletta one last time. “You know, usually floor managers are actually on the floor most nights. In case you forgot.”

Nicoletta smirked. “Take it up with HR.” She tapped the bar, indicating a refill for her martini. As Tammy came over to oblige her, Angelo saw her eyes flicker towards him. Despite his very full plate at the moment, that one little look was enough to catch his interest. Angelo lingered a little longer.

“Say…are you new, honey?” he asked.

Tammy looked up with a smile. “Five months ago I was,” she joked.

Angelo chuckled, hand in his pocket. “Must be something new with your hair then. Hey, I’ll be down in my office for the rest of the night. Think you can swing by a little later before your shift ends for some bottle service? I never do work sober.”

Tammy’s eyes twinkled, and in doing so, confirmed Angelo’s suspicions. “Of course, Mr. DeRossi. Should I bring the scotch?”

“Please do.” Before leaving, Angelo caught Nicoletta rolling her eyes loudly with a scoff against her martini glass. With one last smile, Angelo turned about face and left the penthouse floor, heading back down to the workload that awaited him.

* * * *

Angelo’s office, unlike the penthouse floor that his father lorded over, was fairly modest. Two low bookshelves sat in an L shape near the left corner of the space, which was no bigger than a ten by ten square. There was a television with security cam footage, some filing cabinets, mountains of somewhat organized paperwork, a plush couch, a chair to match, and a simple desk, smack dab in the center of the office space. And currently, that desk was playing host to something other than boring paper work.

Tammy the bartender, at the moment, was bent over that desk, her skirt pushed up to her stomach, and her underwear hanging off of one ankle. She gripped the edge tightly, her legs shaking, as Angelo humped her from behind. His blazer was off, and his shirt was wide open, but otherwise, he was fully clothed. Hands grabbing at her naked hips, Angelo f****d her with the rhythm of a well-oiled piston. The slaps of their skin was drowned out easily by the thumping of the house music just down the hall from his office door. She could have screamed and no one would be the wiser.

“Ahhh f**k—!” Tammy whimpered, throwing her head back. Angelo grabbed her neck by its base, using it to balance himself as he kept tempo. “G-God—I—I’m so c-close—!” Suddenly, Tammy gasped as Angelo pulled out, only to flip her onto her back, bend over, and start again. Reaching up, Angelo grasped her hair by the roots.

“Not yet,” he huffed. “You come when I say.”

“Wh—n-no b-but I—!” Tammy stammered helplessly, grasping at Angelo’s arms. “F-f**k, I can’t—!” Angelo tugged tighter on her roots, his second hand moving up to grasp her neck. Applying pressure on his thumb and forefinger, he began to squeeze. He watched with delight as Tammy convulsed beneath him. She could still breathe, and did quite a lot of it, in fact. Mouth open wide, Tammy panted desperately, her back arching and her thighs tight around Angelo’s hips.

“Curb it,” Angelo demanded. “Control it—”

“I—I can’t I—!” Tammy couldn’t finish her sentence. With a howling moan, she tightened around Angelo’s c**k. He watched as the muscles under her wrinkled skirt twitched and contracted. Before long, her body relaxed, and soon, she was little more than a limp fish losing air. Angelo couldn’t help the disappointment in his gut, though he tried not to let it show. Instead, he pulled from Tammy, letting her catch her breath. “W…wow…” With shaky arms, she managed to push herself up onto one elbow, and swiped her sweaty bangs from her face. “Oh my God, Angelo, that was—” She paused in realization. “O-oh…Wait, you didn’t come, huh?” She pushed herself off of the desk, nearly collapsing on jelly legs, had Angelo not caught her. She giggled, face bright red. “You want me to suck you off, boss…?” That’s when she got a good look at Angelo’s expression, and her own fell fast. “Wha…what’s wrong? You enjoyed it, right?”

Knock knock knock. Tammy jumped as someone made their presence known at Angelo’s office door. “Hey Mr. DeRossi!” came Lori’s voice. “We got an incident at the bar. Some guy’s causing trouble.”

Angelo c****d his head to one side. “Have the bouncers toss him.”

“He’s demanding to talk to you, sir. Says he’s someone important?”

Angelo sighed. “I’ll be out in a minute, Lori.” When he heard her leave, Angelo turned back to Tammy, who had her eyes cast down. Angelo’s gut twisted at her embarrassment. “What’s all this now? Come on, no long faces.”

Tammy blinked a few tears away and shook her head. “Jesus…I never had a guy tell me I was bad before.” She pushed herself from his arms and began to dress. Angelo, in turn, tossed his condom and zipped up his pants. He buttoned up his shirt as she gathered her purse.

“Hold on. Did I say that?”

“You don’t have to. I can see it.”

“Hey, you were fine.”

“Fine? Oh great. I was fine.”

“Tammy, that’s not what I meant.”

Tammy stared at Angelo with a whole new kind of hurt. “My name is Tiffany.”

Shit.

Tiffany left without a word, and Angelo leaned against his desk with one hip, staring at the mess in his office. Well, that had been nice. For a little while, at least. Scooping up what was knocked off, he tossed everything in a pile to sort out later, grabbed his jacket, and headed out the floor. As he did, he checked his phone. A few messages, nothing major. It was nearly midnight. Trouble usually picked up around this time for the Palace.

Speaking of trouble.

“And there he is!” A familiar voice rang out from the bar, and Angelo looked up from his screen to see none other than Mr. Alexander Corsetti, only son of Don Aldo Corsetti and a permanent pain in Angelo’s ass. Currently, Alex was rocking a metallic purple two piece suit, complete with obnoxiously large gold chain and his chest hair on display. He was an ugly motherfucker, if Angelo was pressed, short and stocky with neck muscles that threatened to consume his entire profile. He had a diamond stud in his ear, and wore far too many rings for his pudgy sausage fingers. He often reminded Angelo of a bulldog, stupid and snarling and ready to fight at a moment’s notice. “Where were you, Angelo my man? Here I am, trying to visit your fine establishment, but your dumb b***h bartender won’t go get you until I start throwing my weight around.”