Temptation in Tuxedo

My phone clattered limply to the chrome floor of my sleek town car, screen still glowing with damning proof - yet I scarcely heard the crack or registered the sting of glass slicing my palm. Hot blood seeped scarlet between my fingers but it all seemed secondary now to the harrowing image seared behind my lids on merciless repeat... Marco sprawled intimately across some hulking Adonis I didn't recognize, teeth bared in a lustful smile reserved only for me as their bodies undulated together. Even hours later, the snapshot stole my breath anew - those beloved jade eyes thrown back in rapture, powerful thighs hitched around thick muscle, mouth caught mid-cry...clearly moments away from shattering at another's hands. Bile scorched up my throat while crimson still dripped unnoticed to the carpet below. Of all the scandals and threats besieging my empire, I never expected such a visceral betrayal - and from the man who professed to love me most in this world. The man I planned to share that empire with. Surely it had to be some sick mistake... "Boss?" My driver's tentative voice jolted through the torment shrouding my mind. "We're here..." Forcing fractured composure like ill-fitting armor around myself once more, I stepped from the idling town car without a backwards glance. Across the sidewalk bustling with late summer tourists, sleek black sedans lined the curb in muted warning - but nothing could touch me now while icy numbness cocooned my heart, buffering me from the gnawing ache within. I strode briskly past The Royale's liveried doormen with nary a glance for the coveted entry they guarded. Once upon a time the exclusivity of one of my West Village properties swelled fierce satisfaction in my chest. Yet now, as I stalked the crowded lounge toward an inconspicuous back hall, it all felt so meaningless - the crystals and velvet banquettes and sycophants clamoring for my attention... How foolish to ever believe someone might crave the man beneath the bespoke trappings and family empire bearing my name. That after a youth steeped in violence no one would judge me solely for the power and prestige. Bitterness roughened my exhale as I approached the nondescript door manned by another of my father's men. With a curt nod he allowed me entry to the dim passage beyond, features kept carefully schooled despite the inquiry no doubt burning behind dark Sicilian eyes. I ignored him, striding with staccato clicks of my Oxfords further into the heart of my clandestine domain instead. Here in the windowless brick corridor, muffled strains of music and laughter from the bustling venue overhead couldn't penetrate. Yet soon I emerged into more familiar surroundings - plush leather booths, polished black marble shot through with gold, muted mood lighting casting everything in the sultry glow so signature of my elite establishments. And reigning over it all from the central u-shaped booth, my cousin Salvatore lifted a rocks glass in greeting, his usual entourage of models and socialites draped along the curve of crimson leather. Yet I had no patience for his tawdry games tonight. Not when an ache born of something far beyond petty jealousy clawed raw and relentless inside me. "Cousin!" Sal drawled as I approached, his charming grin faltering slightly as he took me in. Sharp brown gaze raked my no doubt manic expression from shadowed eyes and the tension lining my frame stiff as a statute. "To what do I owe the pleasure..." I tossed my cracked cell phone down between the forest of cocktail glasses peppers across the lacquered table, shattered screen still illuminated. Sal and the ladies around us peered down curiously though I doubted they could interpret the image now seared behind my eyes for eternity. "I need you to find out who that is with Marco." I barely recognized the arctic chill inhabiting my tone. "The location too. I want all the details before I confront him myself." Sal's knowing gaze lifted back to mine, something too close to pity lurking in those familiar dark irises so like my own. "Of course, cugino," he replied gently. "Why don't you sit down and I'll take care of everything." "No." Glass crunching under my heel, I pivoted sharply toward the exit again. "Just get me what I asked for. I have other matters requiring my attention." Brisk steps echoed off the sleek surfaces around me, drowning out Sal's responding sigh behind my retreating back. I didn't need his sympathy or platitudes - none of it changed the brutal truth. That while I had fallen recklessly for tempting green eyes and wicked humor, surrendering my guarded heart with abandon, Marco clearly hadn't reciprocated with that same all-consuming ache. What a fool... Bitter self-contempt roughened my exhale as I escaped back into the dim recesses beyond Sal's exclusive haunt. Marco knew well the ghosts that haunted my past - the blood staining my hands long before I built my empire and honed a veneer of polished civility. He had witnessed firsthand the cruelty I was capable of wielding to protect what mattered most and yet insisted to see redemption lurking beneath. Or perhaps I only heard selective phrases and projected onto Marco's engaging smiles what I wished to see reflected back at me for once... Just then my cell vibrated anew signaling another call, no doubt one of countless so far demanding my immediate attention after storming recklessly from my own benefit gala earlier tonight. Yet this time when I retrieved the damaged device, my father's regal features stared up from cracked glass in bold defiance of being ignored. I stilled mid-stride down the deserted basement corridor, dread pooling in my gut far outweighing the throbbing of my sliced palm. No scenario ending with the Don himself tracking me down at one of my establishments could mean anything good. Drawing a steeling breath as the phone continued buzzing incessantly in my grip, I connected the call before Rio's wrath for my impudence could swell much further. "Father," I bit out, my usual smooth modulation worn thin from emotion churning relentlessly inside me. "My apologies for leaving the gala early. Something rather urgent came up requiring my--" "Urgent?" Rio's resonant voice lashed sharp as a whip, silencing my excuses at once. "I'll tell you what qualifies as urgent, mio figlio." Italian consonants clipped brutally with the Don's towering temper. I braced for calamity, well-versed in how my father wielded fearful wrath over his criminal kingdom - and his only heir. Yet the genuine concern etching Rio's stern tones gave me pause. "Our contacts intercepted communications tonight," he bit out tightly. "The Ricci family made moves to strongarm our latest shipment from the docks." I heard the creak of leather as Rio shifted. "They're boldly testing defenses for a greater powerplay, clearly whipped into action by their allies, the Morettis..." The names of my father's longtime adversaries sank like stones in my chest but I remained mute, already gleaning the brutal retribution such defiance would reap from Rio's regime. And the bloody fallout he would deploy me to oversee as the heir apparent to our powerful legacy. "I need you on this, Lorenzo. Swiftly and publicly." Rio paused deliberately before his next damning words tolled through me, irresistible as gravity. "I need the Fearless Lion to remind our rivals why Delfinos reign supreme in this city." Jaw clenched white-knuckle tight, I said nothing - we both understood this was not a request. For years I played the polished but ruthless sentry at my father's side, commanding respect and fear in the family's name. And in penance for the unforgivable sins that orphaned me as a boy into Rio's merciless tutelage. A ruthless enforcer molded by violence...could a leopard ever really change its spots? Perhaps not. "Consider it done," I finally bit out rigidly then ended the call before my father discerned the hollowed grief hollowing me from the inside out. The present crisis with Marco would clearly need to wait - I had sins yet to atone for, debts eternally left to pay to the Delfino regime. Squaring my shoulders, I marched onward through the underground depths toward where another sleek sedan no doubt idled nearby awaiting its prodigal commander. But when I re-emerged into sultry June night, the New York skies seemed darker than I ever recalled, starless and bleak as my shattered heart.