Page 8 of Sin City Obsession (De Salvo Empire #1)

She parted with Ignazio where the casino opened into the hotel, promising to text him when she was ready to go, and went straight to the elevator.

Despite that they’d both seen Crazy Clarisa ambling off into the parking lot, she didn’t feel comfortable dragging her feet.

The phlegm sitting just beneath the breast of her shirt probably had something to do with that.

She was barely back in her suite when her phone rang, buzzing insistently in her pocket.

Alessa pulled it out and felt concern stab her chest at her parents’ number on the display.

They knew she had been sent out of state on family business.

Why would they call unless something terrible had happened?

She hurried to accept the call even as her father’s strained voice replayed in her memories.

“There’s been a … an accident. Alfonso, your brother, he’s … he’s gone. He’s gone.”

Heart in her throat, Alessa dropped to the nearest sofa. “Yes?”

“Oh, Alessa!” Her mother’s voice was too chipper, the way it was when she played hostess. “I wasn’t sure if you’d answer, but I thought, it’s about lunchtime where you are, so maybe—”

Confused, Alessa said, “I’m working, Mom. Lunch is whenever I can squeeze it in. Always.”

“Well, yes, but…”

“But what ?” Alessa forced her tone to soften.

“Is everyone okay? Did something happen?” Her mother didn’t sound hurt, unless she was high on pain medication.

But what about her father? Her father wouldn’t have hesitated to jump in front of some punk Ink Blot if one of those asshole gangsters had actually come to their house, and actually threatened her mother.

They wouldn’t be the first De Salvo soldiers to suffer, even fall, for this bizarre and fucked up war.

Except her mother had never been a soldier, never done field work. Her mother was just a mafia wife. And her father was retired. And Al….

It was just her now.

“Oh, no, no, everything’s fine,” her mother assured, as if the question were silly. She let out a small laugh. “Honestly, I was just worried about my baby. You’ve never traveled so far without anyone else, and you … haven’t been right lately.”

Emotion clogged her throat and Alessa balled her free hand into a tight fist. She bit her tongue for a moment to hold in her knee-jerk response and released a slow, measured breath. “Mom. I’m twenty-nine, I can travel on my own. And I’m working , so this isn’t exactly a luxury vacation, you know.”

“Yes, yes, but— ”

Alessa shoved to her feet. “And why would I be ‘right’ right now? Why are you trying to pretend we aren’t all shattered? Because I sure as fuck am. Al’s—”

“Yes, exactly! That brings me to why I was calling,” her mother said, hurrying to interrupt as she always did when the subject of Al’s death threatened to interject itself.

Alessa moved to lean against the window wall and choked on the exasperated sigh that built in her chest. “Which is?”

“You need a man.”

For the life of her, Alessa had not expected that.

She couldn’t say why. It wasn’t like her mother had never tried playing matchmaker.

Just the opposite, even. Her mother would much have preferred Alessa be a ‘normal girl’ and get married after high school, settle down with a man and start popping out babies and content herself with keeping house.

The idea that Alessa had gone into field work—was good at it—still kept her mother up at night.

Still… “Mom.” Alessa sighed out loud this time.

“You heard about Mikey’s engagement, didn’t you?

” When she had been little, Alessa had heard her mother joke so often about what a dream it would be if she and Michele De Salvo—the youngest brother, only a few months older than her—were to marry that she had actually believed they were betrothed.

Al had laughed his ass off when he’d realized her confusion, before finally straightening her out.

“Just this morning!” her mother exclaimed. “Do you mean to tell me you knew and didn’t say a word?”

“I know a lot of things,” Alessa replied. “I don’t tell you all of them.” She didn’t share most of them, in fact. “What does Mr. De Salvo’s engagement have to do with me?” She had a guess, but she wanted her mother to spell the thought out in clear words. It was easier to pick apart that way.

Her mother sighed. “It got me thinking,” she said. “You’re almost thirty, Alessa.”

“I’m aware.” It was more like she was barely twenty-nine, but the difference wasn’t worth arguing. She’d been ‘almost thirty’ in her mother’s eyes for at least three years.

“And you’ve never had a stable relationship.”

“I’m busy.”

“You need a man,” her mother repeated. “You need a nice, strong Italian man to support you and take care of you. Maybe then you can finally stop running around like a wild woman, throwing yourself in danger all the time, too.” She paused for only a second. “And I wouldn’t mind some grandbabies.”

Alessa let her head drop against the glass.

“Please stop.” She dragged in a breath. If her mother knew that the underboss of the Cavallo family had flirted with her over breakfast—no, that wasn’t a scenario worth stressing over.

“I’m not in any rush to find a man, any man, right now.

I’m content with my work. I have personal shit to unpack.

And I am definitely not ready to be churning out babies. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“You would be surprised how quickly that can change,” her mother countered. “Maybe you’ll meet a nice man while you’re in Nevada.”

Alessa rolled her eyes. “Think about that, Mom. Any man who fits your description that I meet out here is likely to belong to the local family. How’s that gonna work? ”

This time her mother paused. “Well … you said that family works for Mr. De Salvo, didn’t you? So you’re probably the authority there right now, anyway. You could just bring him home.”

You have got to be kidding me. “I oversimplified. I can see that was a mistake.” Alessa straightened and started for the stairs, too restless to stand still.

“The Cavallos don’t work for the De Salvos, they’re in alliance together.

Essentially, Don Cavallo owes the Dragon a sizeable debt and to repay that debt, he’s promised to be a sort of extended limb for the De Salvo family when necessary.

Most of the time they’re completely independent.

I am damn sure not the top dog around here.

” It wouldn’t serve her argument to admit she’d already had private meetings with the local bosses, though, so she left that out.

“Moreover,” she continued, “I am not looking to poach manpower from any family, allied or otherwise. I am not here on a husband hunt, Mom. Stop pressuring me.”

A pout slipped into her mother’s voice. “Alessa, sweetie, I’m just worried about you. Having the comfort of a man in your life is a good thing!”

Alessa pinched the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she dug into the closet for a clean shirt, her words coming out a little sharper than she might have meant. “So is having a mother I could lean on to share my grief.”

Her mother sucked in a breath. A beat passed, and the faux-chipper tone had returned to her voice when she said, “You were right, I shouldn’t have called just to pester you while you’re working. Stay safe, sweetheart.” Then the line clicked. Just like that .

Tears of frustration and guilt built behind Alessa’s eyes and she tossed the phone toward her bed.

In her heart she believed her mother meant well, but her tactics needed fixing.

How was bringing a man into her life supposed to make everything better when the people already in it were so hard to talk to?

And why had she thought so quickly of Rocco, with his broad shoulders, his strong voice, and those damn dimples?

Rocco allowed Em to do the honors of kicking in the door of the interior office before he strode inside to the satisfying music of an unfamiliar male shriek. A shriek that surely came from the about-to-be-dead man sitting behind the helpfully metal desk directly opposite the door.

Em followed Rocco inside, undoubtedly standing to physically block the open doorway, just as the third man of their crew—Giovani—had been left to secure the front of the store.

Rocco kept his glare on the oily haired man at the desk and bit out the most critical question, despite that he already knew the answer. “You Lambert?”

A cell phone emitting tell-tale noises slipped from Lambert’s suddenly slack hand, cracking off the side of the desk and landing on the vinyl planked floor. “Wh-who the hell— What is this? You can’t just barge in here!”

Rocco took hold of the edge of the old desk, hefting it just far enough aside to drop the nearest metal leg down on the phone.

Lambert let out another startled yelp as the exaggerated moaning finally stopped.

Rocco laid a hand flat on the desk and leaned into the gaping man’s personal space. “I go wherever the fuck I want. Now, answer the question. Are. You. Lambert?”

Slowly, the man nodded. “I-I am,” he said. He pulled at his shirt collar. “D-did you n-need a loan?”

Rocco shot out a hand and latched it onto Lambert’s throat in a firm grip.

The smaller male made an immediate choking noise, eyes bugging wide in his head.

Rocco took a step back, hauling Lambert out of his chair and up until Rocco’s unyielding grip was all that held him off the floor.

“I would tell you that you should treat women better,” he said through clenched teeth, “but that would imply you have a chance of walking this off.”

Lambert attempted to claw at his arm, gurgling weakly.

“You wanna spit on me, too?” Rocco asked, taunting the bastard for the hell of it. He watched Lambert’s fading eyes light again, as if with recognition, and promptly dropped the fucker. “Too bad.”

A single backward step gave him the room he needed, and a practiced sweep of his leg was more than enough to crack Lambert’s limp, coughing body against the corner of the metal desk.

Lambert’s spine connected first, and Rocco took hold of his shirt in order to slam his head more satisfyingly against the rim.

Once. Twice. A third time for good measure .

He let go and watched Lambert drop when he was sure the job was done.

Blood covered his hands, his clothes, and a good portion of the office. It was a fucking mess. Definitely not his cleanest work.

Em let out a whistle. “Who’d he spit on, exactly? Just so I know to be extra nice to that person.”

Rocco exhaled and accepted the handkerchief his guard handed over, for what good it would do. “You already know. Just call this in and let’s go.”