The Firstborn Son Read online
Table of Contents
Excerpt
Praise for Kaia Misk
The Firstborn Son
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
A word about the author…
Thank you for purchasing
Her hands went to her hips. “I mean someone that puts me first. Like my father.”
“Oh, I’m not signing up to be your father, sweet. I want way more than that.”
Lust, anxiety, and fear of a lonely future came to a fiery head within him. He prowled closer, grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. Heedless of the open window, he braced his arm behind her back with one hand behind her head. When he pressed his mouth against hers, she struggled for a moment. He almost let her go.
Slowly, her body settled. Chest to chest, hip to hip, her voracious kiss gave him hope. But he had to be clever, had to keep her mouth occupied so she wouldn’t argue. He stripped off his shirt and broke the kiss for a second.
Big mistake. She slapped him. The magic ended.
“This can’t happen, Frankie,” she said and stomped away. “You don’t get to seduce me and pretend everything’s all right. I love you. I want your body. I can hardly stand here and look at your chest without ripping the rest of your clothes off. But I need more than you’re giving me.”
Praise for Kaia Misk
THE FIRSTBORN SON:
“…This Romeo and Juliet is a page turner with a happy ending…”
~Award winning author, Roxanne Dunn
~*~
“…blends two conventional plot structures in equal importance. The world is that of the Pittsburgh underground, but the objective is two-fold: marry the right guy while solving her father’s murder…If you’re looking for a story that is both steamy and suspenseful, you can’t go wrong with Kaia Misk’s debut!”
~Steven J. Kolbe, the Ezra James Mystery series
~*~
“…Misk’s style is fast-paced and focused…vividly narrated with stirring scenes to remember …characters emerge on the frame to meet you.”
~Balroop Singh
~*~
“…A thrilling and fast-paced romantic suspense. Misk takes the reader on an adventure full of sensuous chemistry and the ruthless danger of those who will do anything for power.”
~Mallika Narayanan, thriller author
The Firstborn Son
by
Kaia Misk
The Renzi Affairs
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Firstborn Son
COPYRIGHT © 2022 by Paula A. Minydzak
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Rae Monet
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Edition, 2023
Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-5092-4675-5
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-4676-2
The Renzi Affairs
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To my family—all of them. The young and the old, the living and deceased. You live in my heart and mind. We are bound by love, loyalty and blood.
Chapter One
Rain pelted Frankie Renzi’s face as he chased the councilman along the riverfront. The man ran beneath a bridge that offered temporary cover. But the fool made a classic mistake that cost him precious seconds. He looked over his shoulder.
Beneath the bridge, Frankie increased his pace, driving his lean body forward. After many years of construction work his strength and stamina were unbeatable, despite the wet clothes that weighed him down. In the sideways-slashing rain, he’d almost closed the distance between them.
Three steps, two, one. He grabbed the man’s shirt collar and poured all his energy into jerking the guy to the ground. Frankie kept him there with a well-placed shoe to the groin.
“Please let me go. I’ll give the money back!” the man said.
“Not my problem.”
Frankie didn’t give a damn about a pathetic plea from a bribe-taker. Not at all. His Renzi blood ran hot because this man took him away from Sofia tonight, from his future. His goal was to finish this business and get to the restaurant where she waited. He hoped he wasn’t too late.
Within seconds, a car pulled alongside him. A tinted window lowered.
“I can return the money,” the councilman cried again.
“Take him back under the bridge,” the driver said. It rubbed Frankie raw, taking orders from that creep. But the tables would turn soon enough.
“I’ll give it all back,” the councilman cried again.
The driver backed the car beneath the bridge into the darkness. Frankie released a heavy sigh. Bad things happened in the dark. He ought to know. At least his part in the affair was almost done. If so, he might still salvage his evening. Get to his lover. The possibility lifted his mood, made him extend a hand to help the poor soul up. The man rolled over and sobbed like a child. Too bad Frankie was in a hurry. He yanked on an arm, dragged, and pulled until either common sense or excessive pain brought the guy to his feet.
Two men stepped out of the car like wraiths in the blackness beneath the bridge. Had Frankie not known them, he might have shared the councilman’s fear. Tonight though, they were two more guys who had wrecked his night with Sofia. All so they could play gangster games.
Frankie’s father, Angelo, the boss who had bought the councilman’s vote, got out on the passenger side. His longtime friend and enforcer, Geno, closed the driver’s door and stood with his arms crossed.
Geno had one purpose. To harm those who went against the Renzi family. He’d been doing it for decades and was excellent at his job. He was also a mean, egotistical devil who used far more force than necessary. Frankie had lost respect for him ages ago.
Out of the picture, Frankie walked beyond the far end of the bridge. A little more rain d
idn’t matter at that point. He’d rather get soaked than witness Geno at his task.
He lost himself in the memory of his last date with Sofia. With her dark hair thrown over her bare shoulder, she’d sat on his lap and fed him dinner by candlelight. He could almost taste the flavor of beef tips on her breasts. Almost feel her squirming on his lap while he stroked her bare legs. The vivid memory took him to another place, far away from the storm.
A crack of thunder brought him back to the present. A car door’s slam announced the end of his father’s business. In seconds, Geno picked Frankie up at the end of the bridge. Twenty minutes later, he was home in a quiet residential neighborhood off Shady Avenue. A nice part of town without any bridges.
He had been gone all day, tending to his father’s demands so home felt good. Climbing the steps, grabbing his rain-dampened mail from the box felt normal. Once inside the house, the pile of letters and a magazine, folded to fit the confines of the box, flopped open. He saw his own face on the cover of the latest edition of the Pittsburgh Buzz, a trendy magazine found most everywhere in town. He had to admit, it was a good picture. One that showed off his big brown eyes and a muscular body packed inside a well-fitted suit. The thick dark hair had caught the light as an errant lock fell onto his forehead. He wondered if Sofia had seen it. He bet she was using it as a dartboard by now.
Pittsburgh Buzz had interviewed Frankie at a recent charity event he’d attended for Angelo. He shook hands with politicians and made deals for Renzi Building, the family’s business. His father hadn’t done any real work for the company in years. Frankie ran it by himself for the most part. The less he spoke of it, the more his father forgot about it, which suited Frankie fine.
He switched on a lamp and checked the blinds before he stripped. Wet clothes landed in a heap near the door. Angelo’s demands and the memory of Geno’s fists dissolved in the puddling water at the base of the pile. The air conditioner battled with the hot July night. Cool air hit bare skin and Frankie shivered. If only a little shake could expel the evening’s disaster. Still, he believed the worst was yet to come.
He read her text messages from dinner. She asked when he would get to the restaurant. The final one had only a question mark. He let her down tonight, like he’d let her down before, always conceding to his father’s demands.
The mantel clock’s chimes bellowed through the quiet house. They told him it was too late to meet Sofia. He wondered if they announced the end of his relationship, too. He tossed the phone on the bed and trudged toward the bathroom.
During a hot shower, he tried to guess what she'd looked like tonight. She would have made herself gorgeous for him. She always did. Her long dark hair would have fallen down her back, the way he liked it. The musky scent of the designer perfume he gave her at Christmas would have drawn him in. Sky blue eyes, courtesy of her northern Italian heritage, would have promised future peace. A time when the city’s three families would forego hostility in favor of prosperity.
With a towel around his waist, he fell onto the bed and grabbed his phone, then read her text messages once more. He’d told her he needed to finish something at work before he could leave the office. It was a lie, of course. One he’d told to spare them both another argument over his father's violence. It wouldn't end until Frankie became the Renzi boss. She knew this. Phone in hand, he had no idea what to say to her. With a look at the engagement ring he should have given her tonight, he dialed and waited.
Pick up, Sofia. C’mon, pick up.
Chapter Two
Thunder quivered La Tavola’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Sofia Ciambetti looked back at the angry sky with a superior stare. The storm might rage, but it would never outdo the boss’s only daughter. Not tonight.
“Forget it, Queen Bee. It’s not gonna rain inside,” her cousin Maria said.
Sofia ended her staring contest with the clouds. A smooth turn on high heels pointed her toward the back corner table where her father sat. Together, they waited for Frankie in the soft candlelight of her trendy downtown restaurant.
“He said he’d be a little late. Work held him up.”
Her father, Alfonso Ciambetti, nodded. “Not a problem. It is not yet seven-thirty. The dark clouds make it seem later, but we have time.”
As though nothing bothered her, Sofia smiled. She watched a server pour the wine she’d chosen two days ago. Something special to mark the occasion. One she would always remember.
Earlier, as she and her employees prepared the meal, she’d told them the reason for the hype. All day long, she labored until the sauce tasted sweeter, the meatballs looked bigger. Everyone bubbled with the owner’s anticipation.
The clock in the main dining room read seven-forty-five when Sofia excused herself from the table. She walked into the busy kitchen. “Frankie’s late. Got stuck at work,” she said.
“Ohhhhh.” Her cooks and servers sighed in unison. Their worried faces smiled again as they returned to their duties.
Except for Maria. “Prick,” she whispered for Sofia’s ears only.
“Shut it.”
“I’m gonna kickbox him across the Roberto Clemente bridge.”
“Get in line.”
“You really think he’s working?”
“No.”
“Me neither,” Maria said. “Your dress is gorgeous, by the way. Love the black straps.”
Sofia ignored her and dashed to a tiny windowless office at the back of the kitchen. She checked her makeup, then texted Frankie before rejoining her father.
“You know, Sofia, business of our kind comes up at odd times. Do not chastise Frankie for being late.” Of course, Alfonso Ciambetti would take Frankie’s side. He was a boss who favored the boss-to-be over his only daughter.
“But dinner with you is a special occasion.”
“Ah, Sofia, we have dinner together all the time. But we don’t often have dinner with Frankie. Perhaps his presence makes the night remarkable?”
Alfonso’s quizzical look implied he might know the true purpose of their dinner, although she hadn’t told him. Frankie believed tradition demanded her father’s consent before he made a formal marriage proposal, not after. Eager to have a diamond on her finger, she begged him to reconsider. He refused, regardless of her tantrum.
She glanced at the clock. The dining room emptied little by little. Servers watched her as they paraded to and from the kitchen. Their smiles faded as time passed.
“Let’s have the antipasto while we wait, hmm?” she said.
“Of course. He will come,” Alfonso said. “Don’t worry.”
She sent another text to let Frankie know they were waiting. Servers refilled glasses, the main course arrived, and the clock hands continued to move.
“It’s pouring out there. I hope Frankie is working inside,” Alfonso said.
“Probably,” Sofia said with her hostess smile, although she wished otherwise. He deserved to be drenched.
She snuck a third text message to him when her father left the table. The dining room emptied, and she sat alone in the candlelight. The clock’s tick echoed during a break in the storm. Worried faces peeked through the kitchen window. One at a time, each server and cook had a firsthand look at her. Embarrassed and ashamed, her smile fell when her father returned to his seat.
“I guess he’s not coming,” she said.
“Sofia, he’s a busy and important man. I will forgive him this once. Besides, the pleasure of your company is always enough for me.”
Alfonso’s forgiveness dismayed her. To him, it was another fine meal at one of the family’s three restaurants. Par for the course. To her, it was the pinnacle of life. She felt unworthy compared to the Renzis’ firstborn son. Had they been private, she would have screamed at the unfairness. Demanded the respect due a mafia daughter. In public, she waited in silence as Alfonso kissed her cheek, then paid the bill and left an enormous tip. At least she hadn’t waited alone.
Standing at La Tavola’s front door, she watched her fa
ther drive away. Dressed in her finest, she remained there until her high heels hurt her feet. The clock read nine when she marched through the kitchen to her office. She ignored questions and closed the door on pitiful glances. But the door didn’t block out the voices. She still heard the buzz around the kitchen about Frankie and her. Of all the times, all the places, why did he fail her now? Here? Where everyone saw her, pitied her.
Feeling foolish for her earlier exhilaration, she trapped herself inside the office. She had assumed she would be his fiancée by the day’s end. How could she have been so stupid? Frankie was to blame for her disappointment. So why did she feel so ashamed of herself? Shouldn’t the shame belong to him alone?
Tears ruined her makeup. Her own sobs drowned the noise beyond her door and disrupted her breathing. She had to calm down before she sent him a text. Then, she waited. And waited some more.
“You can come out now, Sof,” Maria said. “Everybody’s gone.”
Sofia opened the door and looked around the deserted kitchen. She didn’t need a mirror to know she looked horrid. “I don’t get it, Maria. He didn’t even call. Am I so unimportant to him that he couldn’t even call me?” She let out a string of swear words as she swept utensils off the stainless-steel prep space. “Does he think it’s okay to stand me up? In front of my father, my employees? I don’t care if he’s the firstborn son of the most powerful family in the city!”
“I think you dodged a bullet here,” Maria said. She walked toward Sofia and put a hand on her shoulder. “I saw him with someone.”
That changed everything. Sofia was speechless. She knew that look on her cousin’s face. The tilt of her eyebrows said she’d told the truth. “Who?”
“You know who. Marissa Falco.”
“What? When did this happen?”
“Last night. I texted you.”
“I know and I didn’t answer. I was talking to Frankie and forgot to check the message.” The conversation paused as Sofia waited for bad news.
“I went out for a beer with my neighbor,” Maria said, picking up utensils from the floor. “We went to that new trendy place on the South Side. A long black car dropped them off. Marissa held onto his arm while they walked to a table. They stayed for about an hour. When he walked her out, he held both of her hands and kissed her on the cheek. She got in the back seat of the car, and he leaned over where she sat. I couldn’t see if he kissed her again or not. After a minute or so, he shut the door and the car drove away.”