Eli (Sinful Shadows Mafia Book 2) Read online

  2

  Eli

  “Mr. James, is there anything else you need.”

  I paused at the sound of my secretary’s voice. I looked down at the case file I was working on. Yet another client being taken advantage of by the criminal court system. There was no reason in this world why a man with a non-violent, non-peddling drug charge should have been staring down the damn barrel at twenty years in prison with a chance of parole halfway through. There shouldn’t have been the discussion of parole because something like that shouldn't have come with even five years, much less twenty!

  But, Violet’s voice pulled me from my trance as I slowly slid my eyes up to hers.

  “What are you still doing here?” I asked.

  “I didn’t realize I was supposed to be gone, sir.”

  “You don’t have to call me ‘sir’. We’ve talked about this.”

  “Yes, si--Mr. James.”

  “I dismissed you at five. It’s currently…”

  I checked my watch before I blew out my cheeks. Fucking hell, even I shouldn't have been in the office right now.

  “It’s almost eight o’clock,” I said.

  “Well, there were some last-minute files that came in from people wanting your help. Seems you’re really making a name for yourself in the independent field. I wanted to go ahead and get them prepped for you tomorrow.”

  “I appreciate the work. But, from now on, you go home at five. There’s only room for one workaholic in this small building.”

  She giggled. “Duly noted, Mr. James.”

  “So, with that said, no. There’s nothing else I need. Except for you to go home, Violet.”

  She nodded as she closed my door, but I held out my hand for her. I wanted to keep it open, just in case something toggled with the door. I’d been paranoid like that my entire life. Ever since my childhood. What many didn't know whenever they came into my office is that when they sat, they were within twenty steps of four different weapons in my office. And that didn’t take into account the lobby area where Violet worked.

  Guess I couldn't fully shake my family’s mafia mindset.

  “Goodnight, Mr. James!”

  “Goodnight, Violet. Travel safely!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  I snickered and shook my head as I heard her close the office door behind her. She locked it, then the sound of her heels clicked away as I sat there. I waited until her car engine struck up. Until she pulled out of the driveway. I watched her headlights through the office window, waiting until her car’s engine faded into the background with the rest of New York City.

  Then, I got back to work.

  I knew the real reason why Violet stayed. She worried about me. She’d expressed it on multiple occasions. The first couple of go-arounds, I thought I’d have to let her go because of it. She kept staying until ten, eleven o’clock at night. Sitting at that desk. Piddling around. I thought she did it because she had a crush on me. Then, one day, her girlfriend came in to have lunch with her. And after I got done grinning from ear to ear, I dug down into the real reason why she worried.

  She worried because she knew who I was.

  How she came to figure it out, I wasn’t sure. I’d legally changed my last name from ‘Diliano’ to ‘James’ back when I was twenty years old. When I struggled even to get through law school because of it. I knew if I wanted to make a name for myself in the criminal defense industry, I had to separate myself from my criminal, underground family.

  Though, there were some things that still carried over with me.

  The constant need to defend myself was one of them. The workaholism was another. My father had that ingrained into me. My mother helped it flourish. Law school had been a safe haven for that kind of mindset. And after struggling at my first firm because they didn’t want me taking home case files, I took the plunge and opened my own business. Took out a small loan, much to my father’s dismay. My father tried everything he could to fund the venture. To put money in my pocket. To dump money in my business accounts. But, I wouldn't let him. I didn’t want his blood money. I didn’t want my criminal defense business being funded with a criminal’s money.

  I also didn’t want my father barging in here, moment by moment, and demanding my time in court because of shit he pulled.

  Which I knew he’d do if he had even the smallest hand in my business.

  I sighed before I got back to work. Thinking about my family always made me upset. A bit depressed. Being the eldest Diliano son meant I had specific responsibilities on my shoulders. Things a child should never have to shoulder. And when I stepped away from the family and into college, it tore my family apart. My father berated me. Cast me out. Wanted to strip me of my name. The only reason why he didn’t was because of my mother. She figured I’d come around. I’d get out into the real world, grow some sense, and come back home after I’d had my fun. Much like my father did.

  Because, yes. My father had a college degree in Business. It was his way of ‘rebelling’ against the life when he was a teenager.

  Only, my ‘rebellion’ pushed me into law school. And into a regular job. And into opening my own business.

  “All right. Time to get back to work.”

  I sighed to myself, then started scribbling down notes again. I needed a strongly mounted defense for my current client. His court date was in less than a week, and he was desperate. Because of the time he faced, he wasn’t awarded bail. Which meant the three children he had back at home were suffering without their father. It disgusted me, how hard the city of New York City was on its citizens. And while it wasn’t hard to look at my client and understand exactly why the judge was going so hard on him, I was determined to get him a sentence befitting of the crime committed.

  Even if it killed me in this office with its late hours.

  The office grew darker and the slick wood of my desk slowly morphed with my imprint. I stayed there, hunched over his file, with my ass etching itself into the leather office chair I was finally able to afford two years ago. And finally, when I knew I had a defense ready for any unmerciful judge, I checked my watch.

  Before I puffed out my cheeks again.

  “Midnight. Fucking hell.”

  I leaned back into my chair and gazed across my office. It was an oddly shaped office. But, it seemed to make clients feel comfortable. ‘James Haven Associates’ was a small, separated building on the outskirts of town. With its own parking lot, it’s own security system, and it’s own mailbox, it was prime real estate in the city of New York City. It was surrounded by a few eateries, a couple of shopping strips, and a movie theater. Giving me ample places for which to advertise my services. The building had my office, an empty office across the way, and between the two offices sat the waiting room and Violet’s desk. Simple, to the point, and conservative on space.

  It was perfect for a business like mine.

  I smiled as I gazed at my wall full of books. Books I’d devoured in law school and books I slowly peddled through during lunch or my off hours. Which I still spent in this office, most of the time. This place had become my life. My solace. My break and my routine. I hadn’t taken one shred of vacation from this place since I opened it four years ago, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. I loved this job. I loved this life. It was a life of honesty. A life of no regrets. And I was proud of what I’d accomplished. How quickly I’d gotten this firm on its feet. I dealt with the law head-on instead of attempting to skirt it, like my father always had. Which further separated me from my family in ways that made me smile in the morning. In a few months, I hoped to draw in so many clients that I required the part-time help of another criminal defense lawyer. Possibly one still in law school, needing to make ends meet or pick up internship hours for their degree.

  Because I remember how hard it was to find those back in my schooling days.

  “All right. It’s really time to go home.”

  I talked to myself a lot. Mostly because if I wasn’t talking to Violet
or my clients, I wasn’t talking with anyone. Being a workaholic didn’t provide much time for a social life. And to be honest, that wasn’t my scene anyway. The clubs and the bars and the drinking. I would’ve rather been a home over a home-cooked meal and a glass of wine. But, what woman wants a home-cooked meal at some stranger’s house for a first date?

  Certainly not a woman with any sort of sense.

  “All right. No. Really. Get up, Eli. Time to sleep.”

  But, I still found myself gathering those files. I still found myself slipping them into my briefcase. I still found myself picking up my work phone and my personal cell phone before I locked up my office. And as I walked through the lobby, I heard my cell phone ringing out.

  Only, it wasn’t my business phone.

  “Who the hell is calling me this late?”

  I slipped my personal phone out of my pocket and paused. Holy shit, had it been that long since I’d changed the number on this phone? I thought back to the last time I changed the number and… yeah. I’d had it for seven years. So, it shouldn't have shocked me at all when I saw my father’s number scrolling across the screen.

  Right?

  I hovered my finger over the green button to pick up the call. I hadn’t spoken to my father properly in years. He sent me emails and messages every now and again. Offering money to help bolster my business. But, I never responded. And he never tried calling. It was easy, ditching someone who didn’t call. Dodging someone who didn’t want to put their voice in my ear. But, now? He was calling. At a little past midnight.

  Which didn’t mean anything good.

  3

  Giana

  “Fancy seeing you here, gorgeous.”

  I giggled. “Hey there, Janie.”

  “Another night shift, another opportunity missed to hit the circuit.”

  “You sound like going out and partying is practically another job.”

  She sat down in front of me. “Honey, when you look this good? It’s always a job.”

  “You’re an absolute mess.”

  “And you’re a hero. The calls you made on that boy last night were outstanding. You know that?”

  I shrugged. “I just made triage calls anyone else would’ve made.”

  “Oh, no no no. Catching that heart arrhythmia and putting it with the shrapnel? Most nurses--including myself--wouldn’t attributed it to trauma. Or internal bleeding. Not shrapnel. That’s not common. You saved that boy’s life.”

  “Wait, so he made it out of surgery?”

  Janie paused. “Do you not know?”

  “I don’t make it a point to keep up with E.R. patients after I leave. Keeps me emotionally rooted.”

  “Well, let me fill you in on the tea then, honey. The boy lived. And I mean, he lived. Within three hours after getting out of surgery, the boy wanted pizza. Pizza, Giana.”

  “I mean, I can’t blame him. Pizza’s awesome.”

  “The surgeon thought you were overreacting, too. Almost overrode the surgery. I convinced him not to--you’re welcome--and once he got in there he was shocked to find four pieces of glass lodged in two of his major arteries. Boy needed some serious blood, but his mother was a perfect match.”

  I smiled. “Which settled her anxiety, I’m sure.”

  “A great deal. The shrapnel call was genius. You’re the real that boy’s alive.”

  I shrugged. “Just doing my job.”

  “Uh huh. I know you won’t ever take the glory or the praise. But, don’t worry. Dr. Loveboat’s doing that for you.”

  I snickered. “You’re still calling him that?”

  “Have you gazed into those eyes lately? You know that man uses those things to his advantage.”

  “You’re an absolute mess and I love every bit of it.”

  As I started in on my lunch during my break, I thought about how bittersweet the whole thing was. Drunk driving in New York City was the number one killer, outside of guns in some of the rougher parts of town. We saw way too many people roll through those doors, on the brink of death because of someone getting behind the wheel of a car with too much booze in their system. I’d lost too many patients that I clutched much too closely as they bled out on gurneys, begging me to call their husbands. Their girlfriends. Their children. Just so they could say goodbye.

  And all because of drunk driving.

  “You’re thinking about the guy that died, aren’t you?” Janie asked.

  I shrugged. “I mean, I know he was the drunk one. But, he still paid the ultimate price for it.”

  “Girl, you have got to take the wins with the losses. That man didn’t even come into this E.R. He was hoofed straight to the county morgue. You know this. That’s city protocol.”

  “Doesn’t mean someone didn’t die in the process, Janie.”

  She reached over and squeezed my hand. And I gladly took it. I mean, I was probably sensitive on the matter. I didn’t talk much about my life with people. Alianna was probably the only person that knew my history with drunken driving. But, for some reason, I felt the need to spill it to Janie, too.

  “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” she asked.

  I sighed. “You know, I was in love once.”

  “Oh, story time.”

  “Not that kind of story.”

  “Well, it’s still a story. So, shoot. What was his name?”

  “Alex.”

  “Nice, nice. Was he cute?”

  I grinned. “The cutest. The biggest hopeless romantic alive. You know, throwing rocks at my window. Leaving me little love notes in my locker.”

  “Locker? Oh, is this a high school romance? Oh, those are the best. Summer flings, and all that.”

  I nodded. “Dated him all through high school. Alex and Giana. We were the power couple of the school. But, Alex was a partier. And I wanted no part in that.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Yeah. It ends about how you’d think. He dragged me out to a party for graduation, even though I didn't want to go. But, I wanted to make him happy. So, I did. There was drinking. Cheap beer. Someone’s parent’s vodka. Shit like that.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “I mean, I don’t like to talk about it much. But, long story short? He drove when he shouldn't have. Wrapped himself around a pole. Didn’t even see the damn graduation aisle he was meant to walk down.”

  I leaned back into my seat, trying my best to hold back tears. I felt Janie’s sympathetic eyes on me, but I didn't want to look at her. I hated those looks. Those pitiful glances. I hated the fact that, even know--as a twenty six year old--that shit still got to me.

  “Anyway, it just sucks sometimes,” I said.

  “You got that right,” Janie said softly.

  We ate lunch in silence for a little while as I composed myself. I felt stupid for breaking down. Which was probably why I never indulged those kinds of stories to people. I hated crying. I hated feeling weak. I hated feeling vulnerable. I just wanted to have a few drinks, have a good time, get in some good laughs, and sleep. That’s it. The simple pleasures of life.

  Maybe that’s why you’re still single.

  “So, have you heard from the fella yet?” Janie asked.

  I snickered. “What do you think?”

  “The fact that you haven’t mentioned it yet means a resounding ‘no’?”

  I nodded. “Exactly. And you know what? I’m not going to chase him, either.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “I’m deserving enough to be chased. I deserve to have a man blowing up my phone and wanting me to stay on calls with him for damn near an hour. I deserve a man who wants me that much. And if my name brings that much fear to a man, then he’s a pussy I don’t need.”

  “Preach it, Giana!”

  “Because one day, a man will come along that isn’t frightened by my parents and is impressed at the fact that I was able to pull away. That I was able to do something different with my life. He’s the man I need to wait for. Even if I’m forty years old before he
comes along.”

  “And until then, you can play the field.”

  “Amen to that, Janie.”

  We raised our Styrofoam cups of coffee and cheered them in the air. We fell apart in giggles while we sipped our drinks, gabbing back and forth like we usually did. Janie talked about her next night out. Her plans for the evening and the outfits she wanted to wear. I talked about how I needed a shopping trip soon, and she practically begged me to take her. Which was fine, because Alianna had been indisposed lately with the newest love of her life.

  And while I was happy for my best friend, it made a lot of things lonely as of late.

  “Giana, I can’t wait to get you into some of my stores. I know a lot of the clothes aren’t your style, but I see you in those high-waisted pants sometimes. I got the place for you to go for those, honey. Around the waist belts, too. And the best heels in town line those walls. We’re setting a date. You and me. Shopping, lunch, more shopping, then pedicures. And possibly dinner. With drinks.”

  I threw my head back, laughing. “I haven’t been this excited about a date in months.”

  “Don’t send a woman to do a man’s job.”

  The two of us fell apart in laughter, holding our sides as my stomach began hurting. But, the vibrating of my phone in my pocket ripped me from the moment. Who the hell was calling me in the middle of my evening shift? I pulled my phone out of my pocket as Janie drew in some sobering breaths.

  “Don’t tell me that’s him,” she said.

  And as my eyes widened in shock, I slowly shook my head.

  Holy fuck, my mother was calling.

  “Giana? Who is it?” Janie asked.

  Her voice sounded far away. As I watched my mother’s name scroll across the screen, it gave me pause. I hadn’t spoken with my family since I graduated college. And that was only to chew them out for not actually attending the graduation ceremony. That had been years ago. At least five. So, what the hell was she randomly calling for?

  Couldn’t be good, either way.

  “No one important,” I said.