Italian Stallions (3 page)

“In that case, I’m going to need a lot more light. Let’s go into the bathroom.” She steered Gianna down the hall to the bathroom and draped a towel around her shoulders. For the next forty-five minutes, Gianna heard nothing but the slice of the scissors. Occasionally, Theresa would pause and make another one of those “hmm” sounds as she contemplated her next move. After what seemed an eternity, Theresa finally said, “Perfect, but don’t look yet.” She made another disapproving clucking sound. “We have
got
to do something about these,” she said, touching between Gianna’s eyebrows.

“My eyebrows are fine!”

“No offense, cousin, but do people ever call you Bert and ask you to do the pigeon?”

Gianna giggled and swatted Tressie’s butt. “I thought I was your favorite cousin.” When Tressie stood staring down at her, unmoving, Gianna sat back and closed her eyes. “Fine, pluck away.”

“I need to get out the heavy artillery for this.” She pulled a jar and what looked like a tongue depressor out of the box. “Where’s your microwave?”

Gianna groaned and pointed toward the kitchen.

Once she was convinced Gianna’s face was completely devoid of hair, Tressie explained to her as she expertly applied makeup, “You need to walk into that restaurant like it’s yours. Keep your eyes focused ahead of you. Your chin level with the floor or, better yet, a notch higher, and for God’s sake, don’t look down!”

“What if he puts his hands on me?”

“Then scream bloody murder and kick him in the balls. And if that doesn’t work, act like you’re giving in, then grab his balls and twist them until they break off.”

Gianna cringed. “Jesus!”

Theresa stepped back and set the container of eye shadow down on the sink. “Look, these guys understand one thing.
Power
. If they think they own you, they will act like it. Remember: You are cool; you are confident. You eat sleaze balls like Tucci for breakfast. Think it, act it, be it.”

Gianna nodded. “I eat sleaze balls like Tucci for breakfast. I have the power.”

Theresa nodded, picked the eye shadow back up, and in a few minutes she was done. “Now, get dressed in the outfit I brought, then come back out here.”

Gianna hurried to do just that. Despite where she was going, excitement skittered through her. She felt alive. Excited. Womanly. Not the demure little house mouse everyone smiled at one minute then forgot about the next.

Reverently, Gianna slid her fingers across the smooth black leather of the midthigh skirt. As she zipped up the back zipper, the sound of it jolted her. Warmth filled her. She’d never worn anything higher than calf length before. Next she slipped on a modestly cut button-down V-neck sapphire-colored cashmere sweater that seductively hinted at the curves that lay beneath. The smooth soft feel of the fabric felt as good as the luxurious bubbles in her bath earlier. Black patent leather stiletto peekaboo pumps completed the ensemble. Gianna didn’t dare look at herself. She was terrified the warm sexy feeling encompassing her would not be reflected in the mirror.

Carefully she negotiated her way back into the bedroom where Theresa stood. She watched her cousin’s eyes widen; then a radiant smile spread across her face.

“Now you’re ready to go head-to-head with Tucci.” Theresa came to her and turned her to face the full-length mirror. Gianna gasped at her reflection. That was not her! The woman who stared back in shock
was
beautiful. She looked…sophisticated. She had a shape! Her father would roll over in his grave if he saw her like this.

“You look amazing, Gianna. Sexy and classy at the same time. Tucci thinks he’s dealing with a frumpy little church mouse. You go in looking like this and he’ll be so distracted trying to get into your pants, you’ll have him eating out of the palm of your hand, and he won’t care what he thinks he wants from you so long as you act like he has a chance.”

“I
eat slime balls like Tucci for breakfast. I eat slime balls like Tucci for breakfast. I eat—”

The limousine came to an abrupt halt, cutting off Gianna’s mantra. Her knees shook and her hands were damp. “I eat slime balls like Tucci for breakfast.” Why didn’t she let Tressie come with her? Because if there was going to be any trouble, Gianna didn’t want her cousin in the mix.

The door opened and Mario looked in. “C’mon, the boss is waiting.”

Gianna took a deep breath and scooted out of the backseat. It occurred to her that they were in the Tenderloin. And while there were lots of restaurants and shops in the area, the Tenderloin had long been known for one thing and one thing only—the strip joints and peep shows. But the building she stood in front of with a half dozen suited doormen looked innocuous enough. Maybe Tucci had a legit place? Perhaps it
was
just a steak house. Somehow she doubted it, despite appearances. Roberto’s profited from meat of a different kind.

No sooner had Gianna been escorted into the building than she was greeted by a beautiful woman in a skintight hot-pink vinyl miniskirt and halter top. “I eat slime balls like Tucci for breakfast,” Gianna muttered to herself.

“Miss Cipriani?” the tart asked.

“Yes.”

The woman smiled, her overblown lips as pink as her plastic outfit. Gianna didn’t contemplate where the huge chest came from.

“I’m Taffy. I’ll take you to Mr. Tucci. He’s expecting you.”

Gianna continued to repeat the mantra in her head as Taffy led her through a large room with a stage at the end. Hanging from the poles like upside-down worms were women in various stages of undress. “I eat slime balls like Tucci for breakfast,” Gianna said out loud.

“Did you say something?” Taffy asked.

“Nothing you’d be interested in hearing,” Gianna said. They wound around a wide stairway that circled the stage. As they came to the next level, a long chrome bar complete with topless women shaking and blending drinks for the rapt men leaning into the bar stopped Gianna dead in her stilettos. Open-mouthed, she gazed at the bulbous breasts pounding up and down as the women shook metal shakers.

Gianna started to cross herself but stopped, and swallowed hard. Turning from the women, embarrassed for them, she was met with an even more disturbing scene. In a pitlike lounge, several men sat back on overstuffed red velvet-backed seats, as naked women ground and gyrated on tented trousers. Her cheeks flushed hot and her fingers went cold.

She turned to back out, but Mario and his buddy blocked her way.

Gabe choked on his scotch and pushed the pair of triple Ds out of his face. Who the hell was that? The sexy voluptuous brunette seemed hauntingly familiar to him. The brand-new pair of tits smacked his cheeks. “C’mon on, honey, I got more than that little girl,” the dancer said, smashing her slick mounds in his face. A nipple dragged across his nose. Gabe pushed her off his lap. She squealed as her ass hit the carpeted floor.

He watched Tucci’s two goons, Mario and Eddy, push the girl who stood rooted to the floor toward Tucci’s office. The lightbulb went on in Gabe’s head. Gianna Cipriani! Here? And where the hell did she get that body?

Gabe’s natural male instinct was to grab her by the arm and drag her out of the club, but his cop instinct kept him in position. Tucci wanted her for something, and while Gianna looked as if she might be having second thoughts about being there, he knew it was crucial to his case that she see it through.

“C’mon, Gianna, go with the big ugly apes,” Gabe muttered.

He couldn’t help an appreciative sweep of her curvy figure. The leather skirt and sweater hugged her curves, accentuating every lush peak and valley. Gabe’s dick twinged. Her long hair was thick and dark with subtle golden highlights, the wispy strands accentuating the high cheekbones and full sensuous lips. The image of them locked around his swelling cock sent a hot jolt of blood south.

Damn it! By the time he had his cock under control, Gianna disappeared up the hidden stairway to what he knew was Tucci’s office. Gabe moved up to the long bar, where he nursed his watered-down scotch and waited.

Gianna entered Tucci’s office muttering her mantra over and over. By the time she came face-to-face with the slime ball, she prepared herself for the worst. Instead of a frothing mad dog with a raging erection, she found Tucci sitting comfortably in a chair with a glass of wine in his hand. He stood when she entered the room, his cologne reaching her before he did.

“Gianna, welcome. I’m so glad you came.”

Gianna smiled. Like she had a choice.

“I’m glad I did too, Mr. Tucci. I’ve had quite an adventure getting here.”

“Please, my name is Fabio, like the model. I would be honored if you’d call me by my given name.”

“Of course—Fabio.”

He took her hand and pulled her to a chair that matched the one he’d just sat in. “I have a wonderful Chianti from my family’s estate in Tuscan. Would you like a glass?”

Gianna shook her head. “No, thank you.”

Tucci ignored her answer and poured her a glass. “Please, sit.”

As she did, she caught his appreciative leer on her legs.

“You look beautiful, Gianna. I had no idea.”

“I only dress like this for…special people.”

Tucci pressed the glass of wine in her hand. “Please, join me in a toast.” Gianna nodded and raised her glass. “To our future, may it be profitable for us both.”

Gianna clicked her glass against his and took a sip. She smiled and settled back into her chair. It was comfortable. “So, Mr., ah, Fabio, tell me about your business with my father.”

The don took a long drink from his glass and refilled it. “I can think of far more fascinating things to discuss, Gianna, like how luscious your lips look. Are they all yours?”

Gianna frowned. “Mine?”

“Do you have them injected?”

Gianna winced. “Lord no! I detest needles!”

Tucci’s eyes drifted down to her ample cleavage. “Is everything natural?”

Gianna adjusted herself in her seat, subtly jutting her breasts out. This was easier than she thought. Tucci was like a sixteen-year-old aching for his first blow job. Gianna’s eyes widened. Had she actually thought that? Holy mother, what was happening to her? Whatever it was, she kind of liked it. All of the sudden she didn’t feel so self-conscious in this new skin of hers. Quite the contrary. She lowered her long lashes and tested the water a little bit more.

“I am as natural as wood-pressed
extra
virgin olive oil.”

Tucci caught his breath and moved closer to her. “Speaking of virgins…”

Gianna leaned forward, touching her right knee to his left. This was too easy. “Fabio, I didn’t come here to discuss virgins. I came here to discuss business.”

Fabio smiled. The gesture lit up his sharp features and Gianna felt as if for the first time he was genuinely enjoying himself. “Of course, bella, business first.”

Gianna took another sip of her wine, enjoying the warm mellowness of it and her power.

“I met your father a few years ago at Golden Gate Fields.”

Gianna scrunched her brows, her newfound sexual sway over this man forgotten. Golden Gate Fields? “The racetrack?”

“Yes, I run several horses there, and, well, Alberto was quite the fan.”

“But—”

Tucci waved her off. “One thing led to another, and before Cappy realized it, he was deeply in debt.”

“I’m afraid you must be mistaken. My father was not a gambler.”

Tucci stood up and went to his desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out several sheets of paper. He handed them to Gianna. She set her glass down on the table, and as she read each page, with her father’s signature at the bottom, her stomach became tighter and tighter. The wine soured in her belly. She was going to be sick. She looked up at Tucci. “I don’t believe this.”

“It’s his signature, bella. Your father owes me one hundred forty thousand dollars.”

Her hand shaking, Gianna handed Tucci the papers. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe my father would do such a thing! He would never jeopardize our future.”

“It is unfortunate that he had this addiction.”

Gianna’s eyes narrowed. “An addiction you encouraged!”

Tucci smiled. This time it was not so genuine. “I race my horses for the love of the sport. Those who wager? Not my concern.”

“But you do nothing to stop it!”

“That is not my responsibility.”

Gianna stood. “Neither is my father’s debt.”

Tucci remained sitting. “I’m afraid that isn’t acceptable to me, bella. I expect you as his daughter and heir to see to his debts. I will take a percentage of Ciao Bella as a down payment.” Tucci grinned and sipped his wine, then stood and walked closer to her. He reached out a hand and swept her hair from her shoulder. He closed his eyes and inhaled. “You smell fresh. Wholesome. I want you, Gianna, and I am willing to pay any price you name to be your first man.”

Gianna slapped his hand away. “I’m not for sale!”

Tucci laughed. “Everyone has their price. Name yours.”

“I want nothing from you, except for you to leave me alone.” How dare him?

“There, you see? You do have a price. For what you ask, I want something in return. Your cherry. Willingly given.”

Gianna moved to the door and turned the knob. When she jerked it back and it didn’t open, a hard shard of fear tore through her. She turned to face the grinning don. “Would you rape me?”

“No,” he said, smiling. “I want you willing.”

“That will never happen.”

“Not even to save your restaurant?”

Gianna was adamant. “No.”

“How about your sweet little cousin Theresa?”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“You will soon find out, Gianna, that I am a man who ultimately gets what he wants.”

“
You
will soon find out, Fabio, that
I am
a woman who ultimately gets what she wants.” Gianna pointed to the door. “Please open that. Our business is concluded.”

Tucci moved to her and placed his hand on the knob. He lowered his voice, the sound of it menacing. “I’ll give you two weeks to either come up with the money owed me, or I will come for the deed to the property Ciao Bella sits on.”

“That lot is worth six times what my father owed you!”

“Then I suggest you take out a loan.”

“Mr. Tucci, I have no intention of paying you one red cent.”

“You’ll change your mind.” He moved into Gianna, his hands spanning her waist, his lips hovered over hers. The stench of garlic hung heavy between them. Gianna gagged. Tucci moved in to kiss her, but she turned her head. His hands gabbed at her breasts, and his lips trailed along her neck. “Gianna, I’m always up for option two.”

Gianna shoved him away from her. “There are no options.”

He chuckled and opened the door. Gianna moved as quickly as her stiletto heels would allow.