Sweet Release (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance) by Victoria Villeneuve Read Free Book Online

loved me, and he had his magnanimous moments, don’t get me wrong. But there was definitely always something wrong with Tony.
     
    As I came around the corner of his wide, black-granite topped kitchen island, I spotted a spot of rust-red on his shirt collar, stark against the clean white. “Been busy?” I asked.
     
    “No more than usual,” he said. “How about you? New job working out? How they paying you?”
     
    Here we go. “They pay enough. I don’t got a lotta needs, you know. So, it’s enough.”
     
    “Yeah?” Tony asked. He was slicing steak and tossing it into a pan. God it smelled good, too. Like being in Ma’s kitchen again. “Where you living now?”
     
    “I got a place,” I told him. “Comfortable enough for me.”
     
    “Alright, alright,” Tony said. “I get it. I hear you.”
     
    “Your guys can’t tell you where I live?” I asked. “They got everything else.”
     
    He shrugged. “Some of them are new, you know; not as many connections. Plus, some of our guys got put away, so…” He didn’t even try to deny he’d had me followed. To Tony, that was just due diligence.
     
    He threw the last of the steak into the pan and tossed it, sprinkled a few spices in, and liberally drizzled olive oil over it all. “That’ll take about five minutes,” he muttered. He wiped his hands on a towel, and then leaned on the counter. “So. Seen anybody else from the Family yet?”
     
    I just had Tony, so when he said that he meant the wider Family—Don Luchese’s family. “Nah, Tony,” I told him, waving it off. “Look it’s fine to visit and, you know, if they wanna drop by and catch up that’s fine with me but… I wanna keep a little space, you know?”
     
    Tony sighed, and shook his head slowly. “What kinda future you think you really got right now? The Family can help, Mikey.”
     
    “No,” I corrected him, “the Family can help in exchange for my muscle. I don’t want that.”
     
    “Nothings free, brother,” he said. He checked the pasta, stirred it, wrinkled his nose in concentration and then let it boil on. “But that’s your own choice. Tell me how you like the gym. You training, teaching, what?”
     
    “I’m a trainer,” I said, “but I’m working with the owner, Jarome Tyson—”
     
    “No shit,” Tony said, “I heard that—he’s the boxer?”
     
    “Yeah. He doesn’t box anymore, but, he’s the one you’re thinking of.”
     
    Tony whistled. “He must know people. You should introduce us sometime.”
     
    All business, all the time. Tony lived and breathed the Business. I kept looking at his nose, and hadn’t realized why until it occurred to me it was at the wrong angle. “What happened to your nose?” I asked, hoping for a change of subject.
     
    “What this?” He held it up, turned his face one way and the other. “Got a little plastic surgery. The cheap kind.”
     
    I laughed a little, but pushed him. “Some guy put up a fight?”
     
    “Eh, you know; sometimes they got a little fight to put up. It was nothing.” Except, when it came to Tony’s exploits, and just between him and me, he never skipped the details. Plus, his attention became very quickly riveted on his cooking. It set alarms off for me.
     
    “Tony, what’s up?”
     
    Tony shrugged. “Nothing. Just a hard couple months. It happens. I’m fine though. And me and the Don are fine, so, that’s all that matters.”
     
    When things weren’t fine with the Don, the Don frequently sent Tony to correct whatever the error had been. “He send somebody to shake you down, Tony?”
     
    “What? Luchese? No, no, no,” he waved his hands to brush the suggestion away. “Nah, there was just a couple situations got out of hand is all. I took some licks. Wanted to go put things right myself but… I don’t know, the Don’s gone just a little soft since his son died, and said I should turn the other cheek.”
     
    My eyes went wide. “Shit. Billy Luchese?”
     
    Tony nodded,