⚠️ TRIGGER / CONTENT WARNING:
This chapter contains strong language, sex and nudity that may be inappropriate to some readers.
ON TERMINOLOGIES:
Meanings of words/phrases with a (*) can be found in the Glossary of Mafia-Related Terminology.
Chapter 2-1's Umore are:
♪ I Wish I Never Met You by Oh Wonder
♪ Can I Call You Tonight? by Dayglow
♪ Butterflies by Fiji Blue
Link to the Spotify playlist: https://tinyurl.com/yyj9cx5q
Times like this, the Lone Wolf hated being an Omega.
He wasn't okay. He was practically burning up from the inside out.
It's been three months since Gianni had last gone into heat, but why does it have to happen now of all times? He hated this situation. A man in his prime. Unbonded. Unmarked. Working hard to fight the instinct and the disgusting need to mate and be bred.
Gianni removed his necktie, loosened his collar, and tossed the tie into the passenger's seat. It was taking too damn long for the limousine to back up and get into the manor. Feeling anxious and agitated now, Gianni tried to maneuver his car back out on the parking spot, but a car had pulled up behind him, blocking his way to back out.
Now he was trapped, with no other way but to drive forward and pass by the limousine.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit!
With a trembling hand, he reached for his phone and swiped through the row of apps until he found the heat tracker. The moment he clicked it open, an exclamation point appeared on his screen, right above a message that read:
HEAT PREDICTION:
You are 8 days delayed
Tap here for more info
Oh fuck, I really am in heat.
Gianni closed the app and thought about calling Samuel, but changed his mind immediately. Instead, he went through the messages in his inbox, clicked on a name to open an IM window, and typed the message, "Townhouse in Manhattan. Be there in an hour or I'll call someone else." He tapped the bottom of the screen, pressing the Send button.
He got a response almost immediately:
And I exist only when it's convenient for you? Hey. I'm NOT your bitch.
Gianni let out an exasperated sigh as he tapped the Reply button and thumbed rapidly, anxiety building with each letter he pressed.
Fine. I'll call someone else.
He tapped the Send button and tossed the phone into the car's cup holder. The phone vibrated as it rang, but Gianni chose to ignore it, reaching over to hit the button on the side to silence it.
With his right foot, Gianni carefully pushed down on the accelerator as he slowly eased out the clutch. The rear tires spun as the car slowly moved forward.
He swallowed hard. He was barely a couple of meters away from the limousine now.
Everything will be fine. Everything will be okay. Just let me pass through. He said these words over and over as he stared at the limousine, inching ever closer. He gripped the steering wheel as tightly as he could, waiting for the wave of heat and desire to die down even just a little.
But just when Gianni thought he got a little control over himself, the limousine came to an abrupt stop... right beside him.
The same made-man* who had asked for Gianni's name and his car's license plate number, signaled the limousine's driver to pull over for inspection.
Great. Just fucking great!
Through his heavily tinted window, Gianni watched discreetly as the driver's side window of the limousine slowly rolled down, revealing a young man dressed in a chauffeur's uniform.
"Good afternoon, sir." The chauffeur slid his hat off, smiling up at the burly man who was jotting down the vehicle's license plate number. "I'm with the De Laurentiises."
The man frowned at the chauffeur. "You were supposed to be here hours ago," he snapped, taking his irritation out on the other.
"We're sorry, sir. There's a traffic jam at the intersection in –"
"Sol, what's taking you so long? Let's get going," said another voice from the rear passenger seat.
Gianni's heart rolled around in his chest, pounding violently as he immediately recognized who the voice belonged to. As if in slow motion, the rear passenger's side window rolled down smoothly.
There he was, his unfailingly handsome face close at hand, poking out of the window of the white limousine.
Alessio De Laurentiis...
Gianni found his eyes glued to the Alpha before him, reluctantly lingering on the width of his broad shoulders, the lean, slender lines of his neck, the chiseled symmetry of his face.
Alessio De Laurentiis wasn't just handsome. He was dream-like handsome. His light-brown, shoulder-length hair was braided behind him, his bangs loose. His jaw was strong and firm, with the faintest hint of a cleft in his chin which added to the perfect symmetry of his face.
And those light gray eyes. Good lord, those clear and beautiful eyes. They had an odd hue, like the last ashes on a dying fire, so intense and full of heat. For a moment, the Lone Wolf lost himself in those intoxicating eyes.
Gianni was totally into this new and refreshing look. Alessio hasn't changed much over the years, except that he looked more mature, more 'manly' than the pretty, boyish elf he was some years ago. Gianni wasn't a fan of body piercings until he'd seen what a lip ring looked like on Alessio. The tiny, silvery thing glimmered and as he stared at it, it reminded him of the time when he'd lick it, kissing the Alpha on the mouth, both of them feeling hot and heavy, clothes coming off...
Through his trousers, Gianni could feel himself getting hard, like a bump pulling taut under the thick fabric of his pants. A soft moan escaped from his lips as he grasped the base of his cock, trying his best not to come then and there on the spot.
"You know we're running late, so please let us through." Alessio's voice snapped the Lone Wolf back to reality. He had his phone pressed to his ear, his frown deepening as he started arguing with the made-man. "I have your Boss on the phone right now, see? Want to have a word with him?"
Gianni shook his head, wild emotions gathering in his throat.
No... He mustn't see me. He should never see me.
Taking a deep breath, he gingerly rolled down his window just enough to stick his hand out. "E – Excuse me!" he stuttered, waving at the made-man to catch his attention. "I – I'm about to leave, so would you mind letting me out first?"
The made-man turned around and walked up to peer through Gianni's window. "Your name, Signore?"
Gianni glanced nervously over at the limousine. Alessio and his chauffeur now had their eyes on his car, trying to catch a glimpse of his face.
"Y – You already know my name. It's in that damned paper of yours," he replied testily.
"Hey, just let the guy pass through so we can go," said Alessio. "Can't you see we're already causing traffic?"
It was then when Gianni sensed his pheromones. The scent was very faint but just enough to numb his senses. A mix of pine and musk, with something spicy he couldn't quite distinguish but knew smelled sumptuous.
And god damn it, he missed that scent.
Back in middle school, they'd done a lecture on Alpha and Omega scent glands and how a person's brain interpreted the pheromones. The more genetically compatible an Alpha and Omega were to one another, the better they smelled.
And so, it's just biology that's currently making Gianni want to bury his nose against Alessio De Laurentiis' neck and just breathe it all in.
Fuck this. It's now or never.
Wiping muddled thoughts of stupid biology lessons and pheromones from his mind, Gianni rolled up the car window and jammed his foot on the accelerator, trying once and for all to put distance between him and his... godforsaken Alpha.
The sound of screeching tires caused heads to turn, dust billowed up from the wheels of his car as Gianni skidded diagonally through the gates, whipping past the gateposts and finally swinging out the dirt road for the main highway.
"Shit! Hey, you! Come back here!" The made-man bellowed as the red Porsche breezed past him, hurtling out of the manor with lightning speed before he could even think about chasing after the Lone Wolf.
Just behind the disgruntled made-man, Sol, the young chauffeur, tried to stifle a laugh. "Serves you right, old man," he muttered as he straightened back into the driver's seat, released the brake, and shifted into drive.
As they pulled into a parking space, Alessio De Laurentiis couldn't help but keep his eyes glued to the red car as it dashed away, until it gradually disappeared from view.
He took a deep breath. Just a while ago, a faint aroma lingered on the air, a fragrance that smelled strangely familiar. Alessio couldn't quite identify what it was except that it was sweet, slightly exotic, kind of airy and... sensual.
Somehow, an indescribable feeling crept over him.
That man in the red car... There was something about the voice that sounded familiar. Something that filled the Alpha with an ache and a deep sense of longing.
"Is everything alright, Signore?" a female voice said.
Alessio blinked a couple of times, quickly shaking off the image of a person who, for many years, had only visited him in his dreams. He rolled up the car window and slid back into his seat, then turned to the person sitting down in the front passenger seat.
"Martel Stanford's supposed to be somewhere around here," he said as the car finally came to a stop.
The De Laurentiis family's Consigliere*, a young woman named Firenze Altieri, happened to be Alessio's companion for the day. She was a few years older than him, with the typical hardiness of a Sicilian Italian – a trait that won her the position and the favor of Alessio's father and the De Laurentiis crime family's patriarch, Don Filipo.
Firenze pulled down the car's visor and did a quick once-over of her reflection, making sure that her makeup was perfect. She adjusted the collar of her black-and-white suit dress, which she'd paired with Louboutin heels and a pearl necklace. Satisfied with her appearance, she pushed the door open and stepped out of the car, taking in her surroundings.
"Martel's here," she said, waving to someone in the distance. She then walked to the rear passenger side door and opened it for Alessio.
"You don't have to do this..." Alessio mumbled as he slipped out of the limousine and fixed his suit jacket, which was a little disheveled from the long ride. He closed the door behind him then ran his fingers through his hair, pushing back his floppy fringe. "Firenze, did you see whose car that was?"
"Which car, Signore?"
"The red sports car."
The Consigliere replied with a shrug. "I didn't see a family crest. Could be one of Don Flavio's special guests."
"Signore De Laurentiis, Ms. Altieri!" Martel Stanford walked up to them with a smile. "Better late than never, eh? Welcome to La Aiuòla!"
"Martel," Firenze said in a rather abrasive tone of voice, accepting the hand Stanford extended, which she shook briefly.
"Come, come. It's hot out here. The Boss has been expecting you ages ago," the Capo said as he turned to Alessio and ushered him to the manor. "We have a lively crowd this year, Signore. Donna Margareta is here with her young ones; so is Don Julian with his daughter. I'm sure you're eager to see them. Actually, they were here just a few minutes ago."
Alessio nodded absently, his eyes still wandering off to the back gate they had entered through. "Martel, there was a car just now... a red one." He looked at the Capo under knitted eyebrows. "I believe it's a Porsche."
Stanford's brow furrowed, tilting his head upward as if trying to remember. "Oh!" he said, recognition dawning on his face. "It's a shame you didn't meet the guy. You missed him by a few minutes. He seemed to be in a hurry to leave, though."
Alessio felt his heart pounding wildly in his chest and his hands shaking slightly. "But... who was it?" Even as he asked this question, he knew what the answer would be.
"I'm not sure if you know him, Signore," Stanford replied, "but he's an associate. The finest one in the city. The name's Giovanni. Giovanni Mancuso."
Alessio's eyes widened as an expression of disbelief infused his face. A sudden, invisible force propelled him as he turned back toward the limousine and opened the passenger-side door.
"Sol, do me a favor and follow the red car," he said urgently, a fever of impatience in his voice. "We have to follow that car, do you understand?"
The chauffeur stared at him with a look of utter confusion on his face. "B-But, Sir, the car's long gone. I couldn't possibly –"
"Alessio!" Firenze roared as she pulled the car door open and grabbed Alessio firmly by the wrist, yanking him out of the limousine. "Get out of the damn car and pull yourself together, will you?"
"Firenze!" Alessio planted himself at the edge of the car seat, a pained and desperate expression etched across his face. "Firenze, please... That was Gianni... It's Gianni!" His eyes turned glassy at the mention of the man's name.
The Consigliere's lips curled with contempt as she dragged the Alpha out of the car and slammed the door behind her. "So what if it's Gianni? Even if it's a high-profile celebrity or the fucking president, you don't have to give two shits who that was! We're here for Don Flavio, and that's that!"
Martel Stanford couldn't follow what was happening before him. "Excuse me but, what the fuck is going on here?" he demanded, hands on his hips.
"Stay out of this," Firenze spat, making the Capo take a step back. She turned back to Alessio and placed both her hands on the other's cheeks. "You. Come to your senses and don't cause a scene."
"I won't have to if you just let me go," Alessio said defiantly. He slapped Firenze's hands away as he looked over at Sol through the window. "Andiamo, Sol!"
Firenze clenched her fists as she glared at Sol. "Don't you dare, boy."
"Sol." Alessio gave the chauffeur a menacing gaze.
"Boy!"
"Sol!"
The chauffeur blew out his cheeks with a hard breath. His voice and eyes were apologetic as he turned to Alessio. "I'm sorry, Sir. I – I think Ms. Altieri has a point. Besides, the car's long gone..."
Alessio's shoulders dropped. "Traitor," he muttered as he looked disappointedly at Sol. "How could you go for someone who probably doesn't even know your name?"
"Don't be such a child," the Consigliere cut in, giving Alessio an icy stare that made both Sol and Stanford shudder. "If Don Filipo and Donna Valentina find out about this, you'll never hear the end of it. I'm warning you now, Signore."
Alessio clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. "Go ahead. Tell them," he challenged, eyes narrowed into enraged slits. "Remind them why I had to do this, Firenze. Be my fucking guest!"
Before Firenze could say a word, a black sedan blared its horn at them, signaling them to move out of the way. Furious as she already was, the Consigliere walked up to the vehicle and gave the driver a load of profanity. The driver quickly pulled their hand away from the horn but other than that, seemed fairly unapologetic.
"Merda... What a mess this is." Martel Stanford spoke with Firenze and the irate driver, and then turned to Alessio saying, "Let's just forget this whole charade ever happened, shall we, Signore? Now, can we all just step inside the mansion, per favore?" The Capo's voice sounded weary and resigned now.
But Alessio refused to let it pass.
"I lost my only chance to talk to that person," the Alpha said, giving the Consigliere an accusing look. "I need answers, Firenze."
"You need nothing from him," Firenze asserted. "If that person wants to talk to you that badly, they'll come to see you. But the way I see it, they're doing everything they can to avoid you like the plague."
Alessio stared a few seconds longer as Firenze's harsh words penetrated. And then, he blinked, eyes focused once more on his escort, a gleam of coherence in his gaze.
Firenze walked up to him and stood at his side, gripping his upper arm. "Come now. Let's find our way inside."
Alessio pushed her aside and turned to walk to the mansion. "I've said this before and I'll say it again. You're insufferable, Firenze Altieri."
The Consigliere shot back with a wry smile as she followed close behind. "Sorry. I can't let you be an idiot."
The thick wall of tension and silence between the two was suffocating, one that lasted through the rest of the day.
Lower Manhattan.
Gianni's body shook from the lust and desire that rocketed through him. Alessio De Laurentiis' face was already etched into his mind, a beautiful nightmare still haunting him from miles away. He wasn't really sure how he managed to drive himself back home, to have had the strength and willpower to hold back. To let the Alpha go, especially in his current state.
He turned off the car's ignition and leaned his head onto the steering wheel, panting and gasping for air. That was his closest encounter with Alessio in the last five years. That undeniable, indescribable feeling of longing was bone-deep, welling up inside him like a deadly poison.
The heat was tricking him into thinking it was pleasure but more than anything, it was pure torment.
Being an Omega, the Lone Wolf had to experience the same thing again and again. The heat would come once every three months – the only time he's able to be bred. It's ferocious as it's visceral, with Omegas reduced to pure lust for four to seven days.
To quell the heat, an unbonded Omega needs to be taken over and over by an Alpha. Any unbonded Alpha near an Omega in heat will go into a rut and will attempt to mark and claim the Omega until the heat subsides.
During this moment, Omegas and Alphas are enslaved by their primal instincts, fully focused on breeding, with only a few fleeting moments of clarity between matings.
For Gianni, however, he'd have none of those. He's over and done dealing with Alphas, and would much prefer to sleep with a Beta or a fellow Omega. Heat be damned. The Lone Wolf refuses to be marked and claimed by any Alpha.
And yet, as he felt a wave of lust licking up his groin, a part of him just wanted to throw caution to the wind and give in to his animalistic impulses. To hell with restraints and self-control.
Gianni gazed down at his slacks and realized he was still sporting a semi-erection. He could feel himself leaking down there, all slick from his ass, his body primed and ready to be filled.
Fuck this disgusting body! He screamed in his head. Why do I have to be in this cursed and weak body?
A knock on his car window jerked Gianni back to his townhouse's driveway, and he turned to see an anxious-looking Samuel peering in. "Sir?" He tapped again. "Sir, are you alright?"
Gianni managed to raise his eyes to Sam's, to shake his head slightly. The valet quickly jerked the door open, grabbed him by the arm, and hoisted him out of the car.
"What happened, Sir? I wasn't expecting you until later tonight." In a single motion, Samuel wrapped his arm around Gianni's legs, lifted him, and dashed up the steps into the townhouse.
Gianni was drenched in sweat, one hand clutching at his chest. "Is... Is anyone waiting for me inside?"
"N-No, Sir. Are you expecting a guest for dinner?"
Gianni clutched desperately at the valet's jacket lapel and pressed his cheek to the other's chest. "T – Take me to my room, please," he requested. "S – Someone's coming over. Make sure to let them in. Okay?"
Samuel had always admired his master's fierce and resolute character but in this rare moment of vulnerability, he couldn't help but feel sympathy for the man.
"Mr. Mancuso, you're in heat," he said, finally realizing that there could only be one reason his master has dropped all his defenses. "Did you take your medicine yet?"
The Lone Wolf shook his head. "Left them in Hampton. I... I thought I missed my cycle last week, so..." His voice trailed off as he buried his face back against the valet's chest.
In moments like this, Samuel was thankful for being born a Beta. Unlike an Alpha and Omega, a Beta's pheromones and scent glands aren't as developed. And while they can sense pheromones, Betas rarely get affected by an Omega in heat.
Perhaps this was the very reason Gianni had taken him in. Because the last thing the man should worry about would be an employee experiencing the same struggles he does.
Now, as Samuel carried Gianni upstairs to his room, his mind searched for the fastest way to travel from the townhouse to East Hampton. It would take him about four hours by train, but that would be halved if he used the car – given there's no traffic.
Then again, it would a problem to leave his master alone at home.
"Sir, you said you were expecting a guest. Is it that person again?" Samuel asked. He pushed open the door to Gianni's bedroom and carefully laid him down on the bed.
Gianni reached into his pants pocket and fished out his phone. Seven missed calls, all from the same person.
He sighed as he flung himself on his back and stared up at the ceiling. "Yes. He'll... He'll be here soon. I'm sure of it."
Samuel nodded. "Then I'll wait for him downstairs. I'll leave for Hampton once he arrives. Is there anything else you need?"
Gianni shook his head as he kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt "Thank you, Sam. You can go now. And... please don't lock the door."
Samuel nodded again as he backed out of the room and pulled the door gently closed. For a moment, he stood with the doorknob still in his hand, heaving a sigh as he shook his head slowly.
Fifteen minutes later, the valet heard a car pulling up the driveway. He looked up to see a black Land Rover parked right in front of the house. He quickly stood up from the couch and walked toward the front door to meet the guest. With a quick and sharp breath, he opened the door.
The man is a frequent guest at the townhouse. In fact, other than Gianni's physician, he was the only other person Samuel had seen with his employer.
This man was no teenager and is certainly no joke. He towered over Samuel, peering into his eyes, smartphone in his hand. His features were sharp, with clearly defined cheekbones, a well-formed aquiline nose, and eyes the color of a twilight sky. His wavy black hair raked across his brows, and he sported a mustache and generous sideburns that met at his chin in a neat beard. His gray T-shirt hugged his broad chest beneath an open black leather bomber jacket. The man was well-built, wide-shouldered, a little on the rugged side, but undeniably attractive.
Except for that devious smile he always had on whenever he sees Samuel.
"Mr. Masconi," said the valet, failing to hide a look of disdain on his face. He could faintly smell alcohol and cigarettes on the other, making him recoil slightly.
"Come on, Sam, how long have we known each other?" said the man in a deep, baritone voice. "You should start calling me by my name. Come on, say it. Silvio." He stepped inside the house before Samuel could invite him in.
"He's upstairs, in his bedroom," Samuel said in a stiff voice.
"How bad is it this time?" Silvio Masconi asked as he put his phone back in his pocket and made his way upstairs.
"Terrible. He just arrived home from the Rossi estate."
Silvio looked at the other in disbelief. "No shit. In his current condition?"
The valet shook his head no. "His heat peaked this afternoon." He cleared his throat before adding, "You know, Mr. Masconi, you don't always have to respond to his every whim."
Silvio paused in the middle of the stairs and gave the other a stern look. "Where is this coming from, Sam?"
Samuel returned with an equally icy stare. "I'm just telling you you're not obliged to do this."
"I do this for him because I want to," the man said harshly, one hand tight on the railing. "I'm not asking for anything in return."
"Let's not fool ourselves here, Mr. Masconi," the valet said with a faint, slightly mocking smile. "We both know why you keep coming back to him. And I'm telling you now... He would never reciprocate your feelings."
Silvio's lips thinned as he stared back at Samuel, trying to keep a tight rein on his emotions, steering away from his feelings. He managed to crack a smile as he continued up the stairs at a faster pace.
"Gee, thanks for reminding me how much of a dickwhore I am, Sam. But like I said, I'm not asking for anything in return."
The valet moved to the foot of the stairs. For a moment he stood motionless, head up and nostrils flared. Upstairs, he heard the sound of the bedroom door creak open and then closed again.
"Take care of Mr. Mancuso while you still can, then," he muttered acidly as he went to his living quarters to get changed.
Tonight would be a good night for the valet to be somewhere else...
Gianni had been in the bathroom for ten minutes. He leaned against the wall, standing beneath an ice-cold shower as the water cascaded over his skin. It felt good, but only for a moment. He hoped it would take his heat with it, but even the water didn't make him feel a great deal better.
His heat was already at its peak.
He slid down the wall to the floor. "Silvio... where the fuck are you?" he whimpered. A moan ripped from his lips as he wrapped a hand around his shaft, squeezing and stroking the hard and thick length. He'd already touched himself earlier and came once, yet he was still burning with an insatiable need to be held by someone.
Just then, he heard a soft knock at the door. And then a voice.
"Gianni, it's me."
Gianni turned off the shower and got up to open the bathroom door.
Silvio stood right by the door, staring at the other for a while before he spoke. "It's freezing cold in here, Gi."
The Lone Wolf stared back at him, making no effort to hide his nakedness. "What took you so long, Mr. Masconi?"
Silvio raised a questioning eyebrow. "What if I didn't come at all?"
Gianni leaned his head against the door and crossed his arms against his chest. "Yet here you are..." he replied, giving the other a playful smile.
Silvio twisted his lips with annoyance. "You know I can always turn you down."
"Yes. You can turn me down if you want to," the Lone Wolf countered, his words a smoky rasp. "But you won't. You never do. You can't afford to leave me alone when I'm like this." He wrapped his hand around his engorged cock and squeezed as if to coax the other.
Silvio grabbed Gianni's chin and lifted it, peering into his face with a burning intensity. He noticed how flushed the other was, despite the cold. Red, shiny face and neck, and glazed eyes that practically glowed with lust.
He let out a low growl. "You weren't even answering my calls. What do you take me for, Gianni? You're going too far with this little game of yours."
Gianni pulled his chin from Silvio's grasp. "Again, with this?" He held the other's stare with burning eyes. "You know the reason I've asked you to come. As far as I know, nothing's changed with our arrangement."
Silvio pulled his bottom lip through his teeth as a frown creased his brow. "To hell with your 'arrangement'. You can't assume that I'll always be at your beck-and-call. I'm not a fucking call boy for your personal entertainment."
"Yet here you are," Gianni repeated firmly, his gaze intense. "Stop whining. If you need to leave, I can always call someone else."
"Wait, god damn it." Silvio blocked the door with his arm before Gianni could close it.
"You can find your way out, Silvio."
Silvio let out an exasperated sigh before saying in an icy tone, "You... You stood me up last weekend."
Gianni's expression softened a little, but was followed by the same mocking smile Silvio had come to know well. "Oh... Is this what it's about?" Slowly, ever so intently, he ran his hands up the other's arms, feeling his taut muscles twitch in his forearms, caressing the biceps that flexed underneath his tight shirt. "Did I hurt your feelings, Mr. Masconi?" he whispered, leaning close to Silvio's face as he rested his hands on his broad shoulders.
Silvio made a low grunt, his eyes narrowed into slits. "I'm still mad at you."
"Then be mad at me in bed."
"Fuck you."
Gianni let out a humorless chuckle. "That's right. Fuck me. And make sure to do it hard." He moved his stare down to Silvio's waist before settling on to his tented jeans. The imprint of his hardened cock nearly took his breath away.
He reached down, grabbed Silvio's growing erection, and squeezed. "See here? You're just about ready to explode." Looking back up, he licked his lips before continuing. "How about it, Mr. Masconi? Let's have our own little party right here..."
"Damn you, Gianni," Silvio hissed under his breath. "I won't let you have your way with me."
Gianni didn't wait for the other to make the first move. He opened his mouth and their tongues met, and all restraint was swept away.
Silvio pushed Gianni back into the showers, slamming the door shut behind him.
Always and without fail, Giovanni Mancuso didn't take much to get him all riled up.
TO BE CONTINUED.
