Sing To Me (A Dark Renzetti Series Book 1) Read online

  I’ve thought of her every day for these last few months. Wondering how she was, if she was caught in her thoughts about me as I was her. Which is a completely new feeling for me. I have my fun with women and I’m never in shortage of willing pussy, but since hearing Sia sing in person? No other female will do it for me.

  The way she looked me in the eyes with a challenging smirk that said “don’t fuck with me” and then opened her lovely mouth to sing to me, well, let’s just say I’m in a constant state of semi-hard. I would have gone to her apartment soon, had she not shown up here tonight. Yes, I’m unashamed to admit I’ve asked Joe and Carla about her. I’ve also found out she’s Carla’s new roommate. Again, no shame, but that wasn’t really my fault. You see, while at Medusa’s that night, Marco caught sight of the redhead waitress and has been infatuated since. He’s the one who somehow found out where Carla and Sia lived. I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I stored that useful information away.

  She told me a small bit about her, about the parentless life she’s had. I don’t know what she’s been through in detail, but her eyes show a darkness that speaks to my own, only hers is tinged with pain. I wanted to help in some way, so I asked my mother if she could find some official information from the political wives she has lunch with once a week. Hopefully soon, I’ll have information on Anastasia’s parents that I can give her.

  I would have asked my father, but being the head of the Renzetti crime family, he’s got a lot on his plate. Especially with the latest mess my uncle Adriano created with the recent shipment of cocaine we just got in. Seems he had it sent to a different warehouse, one we don’t approve of, rather than the original planned location, and now we have some cocaine missing. Marco and I just dealt with one of the thieves our soldiers caught on the streets earlier. His body is currently being liquified in a barrel of muriatic acid just below the dance floor.

  Recently, Adriano has been making decisions without consulting my father. I have it in mind to get some of my men to follow him. He may be my uncle by blood, but he’s no family to me.

  Cazzo di scemo, fucking fool. He doesn’t deserve the rank he has.

  Coming back to the present with this embodiment of temptation in my arms, I watch how she moves with me. She slowly slides her hands down my arms and turns so her back is to my front. Fuck me. I don’t think she realizes how seductive she truly is. She has a sultry air about her and along with the innocence in her eyes, she could easily bring a weaker man to his knees. When the song morphs into something slower and sensual, I grip her hips tighter and grind my hardness on her round ass while I slide one of my hands up her body, between her full breasts. Wrapping my fingers around her throat, I pull her head back to my shoulder so I can lean my head down to slide my lips down the side of her jaw to her neck. She’s wearing a sexy distressed leather jacket with a loose red top. Crop top I believe they're called. Perfect access to her flat stomach, which I take advantage of and bring my other hand slowly over her lower abs to her other hip.

  Gripping her body to mine while she rubs her ass on my dick, I bring my mouth to her ear and say, “Your voice has been playing on repeat in my mind since first seeing you sing. The shape of your lips, as they move against the mic, has put some very enticing images in my head, tesoro. The fire in your eyes while you stared straight at me without fear. Fuck, bella.” I groan, “You have me hard every time.” To emphasize my words, I push against her mouthwatering ass. I feel the shiver that runs through her but hearing the soft moan fall from her mouth is what has my pulse spiking.

  Damn, this woman is going to kill me.

  "You make the sweetest sounds, Anastasia. I want to hear what other noises I can make fall from those sinful lips." She's breathing heavy and my fingers that are still against her throat tighten. I feel her pulse racing and I want to bite her there. Feel it against my tongue. I want to bury my face between her creamy thighs and taste her juices. I'll make her scream my name and beg for more as I slide deep inside her heat.

  She’s got me in my fucking feelings too. After being alerted of her presence, I walked out of my office and watched her and Carla make their way to the bar. I wanted to cut the eyes from every man who stared at her too long and I wanted to kill every man who watched her dance. She’s for my eyes only.

  She's mine.

  Huh. I’ve never felt this way before, but it’s not an unwelcome feeling. Not when it’s her.

  I feel her swallow and clear her throat, so I reluctantly remove my hand. “I think I need to sit for a moment. Want to get a drink? They have a really good one called Penicillin.” Her innocence has me smiling at her, which only causes her to blush deeper, making me, once again, wonder if the innocence I see in her is real and not an act some women use. Has she never been with another man, ever been touched? That thought has me grinding my teeth. I try to calm myself from the sudden anger and jealousy that slammed into me with images those fucking thoughts conjured.

  “Gavriel?” she asks, looking startled by the sudden anger that is no doubt showing on my face. Taking her hand, laying a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist, I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile and not the snarl it feels like, “Sure, bella. Let’s go have some drinks.”

  Once we reach the bar, she pulls her hand from mine. “My name is Sia, not Bella.” She looks me right in the eye and cocks a brow like the feisty girl she is. I swear her piercing hazel eyes speak so fucking loudly. Her words say she won't put up with bullshit, but her eyes say "I'll fucking kill you if you cross me."

  “‘Bella’ is Italian for beautiful, Anastasia." I touch her bottom lip with my thumb and skim it across her jaw to pinch her earlobe and enjoy the slight wince she gives. "I don't think I could forget your name if I wanted to, which I don't. I would never make the fatal mistake of calling you another’s name.”

  “Shit.” I watch her bite her lip like she's thinking. “Um. Perdonami? Forgive me, I’m still learning.” She says it like she isn’t sure she said it correctly.

  Which she did. Beautifully.

  Hearing her speak Italian has me pleasantly surprised. “You’ve always spoken Italian or you’re learning?”

  “Carla has been teaching me what she can and I take online classes to learn more. It’s a beautiful language and I’d like to learn well enough to sing a few songs in it. For some reason it sounds familiar to me. I’m thinking maybe my family spoke it. Did I speak it correctly?”

  “You pronounced it perfectly. I’m sure you’ll be speaking it fluently sooner than you think.” Seeing Michelle, my bartender, come over to me, I order the two drinks Sia suggested.

  “Yes, Mr. Renzetti.” She rushes to make them while ignoring the other patrons.

  That seemed to surprise Sia. In fact, she’s starting to take notice of the people around us and how they’re watching us curiously as I pull a stool out for her. She raises a brow at one of the female customers, who is blatantly watching us. The girl blushes and turns away quickly, whispering to her friend and pointing over her shoulder at us.

  Sia turns to me with a ‘what the fuck?’ look.

  Hmm, she doesn’t know who I am or that this is my club. I'm betting she doesn’t even know that I am next in line to be Don. She has no idea that the man she’s sitting with is rarely seen with anyone outside of the family, a man who has blood on his hands and runs an empire within the Cosa Nostra. She doesn’t know that only two hours ago I had my 9mm gun in the mouth of a man who thought it was perfectly fine to steal from me and I pulled the trigger without hesitation or emotion. I take great pleasure in it too. Spilling the blood of any man who thinks they can come against the Renzettis is an art for me.

  Killing is simple with a gun and I only use it when I'm giving mercy, but when it comes to torture, I like to use my favorite sleek straight blade. A dagger that has been given to me by my father. The same blade I used to kill my first man and received my button into la famiglia. I may sound a bit psychotic and cold, but I've been trained in this
life and in this thing of ours, you have to sometimes be emotionally detached to succeed.

  Distracting her from the looks we’re receiving, I ask, “Will you be singing tonight? I would love to watch you perform here, in my club.” I pass her the drink and watch her place the straw between her alluring nude color lips. Lips I would kill to be balls deep in.

  “This is your club? As in, you’re the owner?” she asks after taking a drink.

  “Sì, this is my club. Well, mine and my brother Marco’s. We just opened it. Do you like it?” She looks around, stopping on the mural behind the bar. A mural I had a famous street artist paint to my specifications.

  Still staring at the painting, she says, “Yes, it’s beautiful here. Seems to be very popular too.” Looking back at me, her eyes stray to my mouth. I see her tongue peek out to wet her lips before she continues, “And yes, I’ll be singing for you.” She is bewitching. I want to kiss her so badly and soon, I will.

  "Good." I'd love to have her voice saturate the walls. “I’ll have the DJ alerted,” I tell her as she continues to sip on her drink.

  I see Marco coming toward us with a knowing smirk. Asshole. Out of the six children our parents had, he and I were the wildest. Always getting into fights and schemes. Now that we’re made men under our father, we’ve settled down into our roles as future boss and underboss. We’re not the only ones to be close in age, though. It seems our parents were pregnant more often than not in the first decade of their marriage. Being twenty-six I’m the oldest, but a year later Marco was born, then Drake, Nico, and finally our twin sisters Gavriella and Marcia. Our whole family is very close, but Marco and I are best friends as well as brothers.

  When Marco reaches us, he claps me on the shoulder, “Ciao, fratello. Hello, Sia.” He gives her the charming smile he's known for.

  “Hello, person who knows my name,” Sia says with cheekiness.

  Laughing, I gesture. “This is my younger brother Marco. He knows your name because well, everyone knows it and because he and my other brothers were there the night you sang at Medusa’s.”

  He politely takes her hand and even though he’s my brother I can’t help but want to cut his hand off. All Renzetti men are possessive fuckers. Same goes for my father, who has killed a man for something he said about our mother.

  Looking at Marco, I tell him, “She’ll be singing here tonight. Please tell Ruben to have the stage ready for her.”

  “Of course. I’m sure everyone would love to see a performance from The Manhattan Singer,” he tells her with another charming smile that I'm ready to knock off his face. As if he hears my thoughts, he turns to me with a serious look. “Ma wants you to call her. Says she has news for you.”

  Hmm, must be about the meeting she had this afternoon. Nodding, I stand. “I’ll be back in a moment, bella. Please enjoy your drink and the DJ will be ready when you are.”

  “Okay, I’m just going to go find Carla and let her know. Thank you and it was good to meet you, Marco. Buonasera, have a good evening.” She says it perfectly and I have to hold myself back from laying claim to her mouth. Instead, I kiss her wrist again and head to the private elevator that leads to the third floor.

  Once inside the elevator, Marco says, “She’s fucking beautiful, brother. Ma will love her.”

  “I’m not thinking that far ahead just yet, Marco, but yes, she is beautiful and she’s mine, so keep your fucking eyes off and quit smiling at her like some melodrama villain.” I open the office door.

  Laughing, he rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, I know she’s yours, Gavi. Besides, I’m more into wild redheads like her friend, but don’t blame me when people start to put two and two together and figure out that she’s the woman in the mural out there painted in the nude, no less.”

  It’s true.

  The mural was painted with her in mind, but just slightly different so that no one, outside of Marco and me, would know it truly is her. I’m not even the slightest bit ashamed. This whole club was designed with her in the details. The week before I saw Sia sing in person, Marco and I bought this building and began remodeling it, but after watching her performance I had the theme made into what it is today. Temptation.

  My mother and father loved it, but then again, they might be just a bit biased, but my sisters are my harshest critics out of the family and they approved of every detail, including the mural.

  Shrugging, I pick up the phone and dial our mother while Marco watches the club through the wall of windows.

  “Ciao, figlio mio. How is the club’s opening going?” My mother’s soft voice comes through the phone. She is the glue to this family. A religion to my father who taught us the number one rule for our family: when Mother speaks, we listen.

  “Ciao, Mamma. It’s going well. It’ll be a success just as the others. How was your meeting with the governor's wife? Well I hope.” I’m really looking forward to having information about Sia. I look out the window and see her making her way to Carla, who is dancing with two men. I glance at Marco and see his teeth grinding, which makes me smirk as I turn away and listen to my mother.

  “Si, figlio. It was a long day of emotions. I wanted to tell you in person, but I could not hold this information much longer. Your father will want to know right away. You’ll need to come to the mansion as soon as possible and bring Anastasia with you. Marco said she's with you, no?” I’ve never heard my mother speak so seriously and she only calls a meeting when it’s something truly important.

  Worriedly I ask, “What happened? Were you able to get the documents for her?”

  “Yes, I did, that’s what it’s about. I had my suspicions when you told me her name but I brushed it off because she was supposed to be...” She cuts her rambling off and pauses for a moment. On a heavy exhale she says, “She’s Frankie’s daughter.”

  Before I can say anything, though, Marco yells, “Carla!” and rushes past me.

  Merda.

  I didn’t have to look hard to find Carla. Bitch is sandwiched between two very handsy guys while trying to keep her drink from spilling. When did she get a drink? The one grinding on her ass is a blond fuck-boy and the other tool looks like his brunet twin. Shaking my head, I reach for her, yelling her name above the music, but blondie grabs my hand and tries pulling me to him.

  “There you are, bitch. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  The fuck?

  I try to pull my hand from him, but he tightens his grip, most likely leaving bruises, and grabs my waist with his other hand. “Oh no, you’re not going anywhere, little girl. Someone’s been looking for you.”

  This motherfucker.

  Using my free hand, I snatch my switchblade from the back of my waistband and push the button as I bring the point up to his throat. I watch with satisfaction as his eyes widen in shock and fear.

  Baring my teeth, I growl, “Get your filthy hands off me now or I’ll slit your fucking throat.”

  To show him I’m not talking out of my ass, I put enough pressure on the blade to draw blood. The little red drop sliding down my blade brings a feeling of contentment over me. Having a wicked bastard like this at my mercy instead of the other way around is just as euphoric as an ecstasy pill.

  At least it is for me.

  As much as I’d love to watch my blade open his artery, I don’t. Instead I knee him in the balls and shove him away from me when his grip loosens. The sack shit drops to the floor and I kick him one time in the face.

  I look up and see the Renzetti brothers knocking people out of the way to get to me, but then I hear Carla yelling, “Get the fuck off me, asshole! Stop!” I spin on my heel and see shit for brains is trying to drag my best friend to the back of the club.

  Hell no.

  Carla is struggling against the prick, but he has her from behind, so she can’t really get a good swing at him and she’s losing the strength to continue putting up a fight. Plus, those damn neck breakers she has on her feet aren’t helping her at all.

  With my blade in ha
nd, I start toward them, but before I can take more than two steps Marco rushes past me and wraps his arm around the guy’s neck and pulls hard; the twat keeps his grip on Carla, though.

  Gavriel gets to me. “Fanculo, fuck! Are you all right, Sia?”

  Instead of answering him, because he can clearly see I'm fine, I push him toward his brother and say, “Help him!”

  Gavriel doesn’t, though, he goes straight to blondie, who is trying to sneak away now that his little balls aren’t preventing him from standing, and grabs him by the collar. He drags the fucker to where Marco is beating the shit out of his buddy and slams him against the wall.

  Gavriel moves like a dancer. His movements are fluid and smooth. No hesitation or stutter; he moves like a trained killer.

  I rush over to a disheveled Carla. “C, you good? Did he hurt you?” I lift her face to mine and see she’s sweating like a motherfucker and she’s mumbling something, but her labored breathing is hard to hear past.

  “What’d you say, babe? I can’t understand you.”

  She looks like she’s hyperventilating, but I finally hear the word “roofie.”

  Fuck! I lift her up off the floor and hold her waist while she puts her arm over my shoulder.

  “Guys! She needs help!” I stumble my way to them just as the bouncers arrive. “They slipped something in her drink. I need to get her to a hospital and make sure she’s not overdosing.”

  Marco reaches out his hands to help me with her, but I pull her back because even though he just saved her ass, I still don’t know him and I won’t let anyone handle her while she’s in this state. He backs off and I see the tick in his jaw, but instead of angry he looks genuinely concerned.

  To spare his feelings, I tell him, “Lead the way out of here. She needs fresh air.”

  Gavriel is speaking with the bouncers who have the bloody faced dickwads in zip ties, but I don’t pay much attention because Marco begins walking to a back exit. As soon as we get out to the alleyway he takes out his phone and calls someone. Gavriel comes out and says something in Italian to his brother that I don’t understand but then turns to me and asks again if I’m okay. This time I answer because even though I can take care of myself and can handle myself in most situations, it’s refreshing to have someone else actually give a fuck about my well-being.