No Limits: Switchblade Romance, #2

By Lady Jaguar and Jayne Lockwood

"Bold of you to assume this is a seduction." Richard's stare never left Marcus's face. "This is foreplay."

 

Mobster CEO, Richard Mason, and his PA, Tino Santini, have wed after a whirlwind romance, with tempestuous results.

 

Sex games keep their passion burning, yet after a fierce argument leads to a night Richard can't remember, Tino suspects he is having an affair. In reality, Richard is being blackmailed with compromising evidence, gathered by an old adversary.

 

Meanwhile, a sensual dilemma looms in the curvaceous shape of Richard's ex and her chivalrous husband, Marcus, whose attraction to Tino is obvious. When Tino and Marcus disappear, Richard enlists some London gangsters to help him find them, with explosive results.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jayne Lockwood
• Release date: Nov 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201002466

Lady Jaguar

Lady Jaguar is the pen-name of Jayne Lockwood. She writes hot M/M romance and runs the @ladyjaguarwrites Instagram page for both her and Jayne's books.

Book preview

1

DEATH IN THE FAMILY

RICHARD

He should have listened to his husband but as usual, he hadn’t. Now Valentino Santini-Mason, his Italian husband of barely ten months, radiated disapproval in the limousine beside him as they drove to Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, to attend Enzo Carlotti’s funeral.

Nothing good would come of it, Tino had warned. Richard owed his old gangster boss nothing, especially now he was dead.

Their silence was stony as they were driven past the burial sites towards Enzo Carlotti’s final resting place.

The weather was bitterly cold, the afternoon sky a piercing blue with no cloud in sight. In the distance, a large group of people in thick overcoats huddled around an open grave, and black sedans parked in a long line nearby.

When Richard spotted a white Ferrari standing some way from the main group, he tapped his chauffeur on the shoulder and pointed.

Over there.

The chauffeur parked the Mercedes behind the Ferrari. They watched a small man climb out of the white car and walk towards them.

Is that another of your gangster buddies? You shouldn’t even be here! Tino hissed at him. His eyes were hidden under large Gucci sunglasses, but Richard knew they flashed fire.

You didn’t have to come. You insisted, he countered sharply.

Only so I could attempt to bring you to your senses. Tino folded his arms, his exquisitely made-up face tight with irritation but Richard was unmoved.

You should have known you were wasting your time. Now you’re wasting mine. Richard didn’t care how harsh his words sounded. Since their wedding they had been disagreeing more often. It seemed Tino was having difficulty adjusting to being the husband of a wealthy man with a dark past.

But maybe Tino was right to be wary. In the distance stood a gathering of crooks and gangsters. At least one of them had their hand slipped inside his coat as though nursing a weapon. 

I’ve a bad feeling about this, Tino muttered bitterly, glaring at the man waiting outside the car.

It’s only Chico. Relax, will you? Richard snapped as he left the car. He slammed the door on Tino’s protests.

Chico Mendez shivered in his long overcoat. Richard hadn’t seen him since before he and Pagan had split up, and it looked as if married life suited him. The days of working for Enzo Carlotti seemed far behind him.

What the hell are you doing here, Chico? Richard asked as they walked a short distance away from the two cars. Richard had no intention of having Tino listening in to the conversation.

Wanted to hang here and watch from a safe distance. You know, pay my respects, Chico shrugged. No need to ask why you’ve come. Raven isn’t here, man. Her guardian wouldn’t allow it.

Richard stared moodily into the distance. He had known his daughter wouldn’t be at the funeral. Her adopted family made sure she had been protected from her old life, and that included him. Now she was old enough to make up her own mind, she had chosen to stay away, even changing her name to erase her Italian American roots.

Raven? What kind of fucking name is that?

Chico shrugged again. She chose it.

And her surname?

Chico looked uncomfortable. You know I can’t give you that. She don’t want you to contact her. I was crossing a line even giving you her new name. You gotta respect her privacy, boss. She’s a young woman now.

She’s eighteen.

Yeah, and she don’t want to be contacted, okay? She’ll do it when she’s ready.

Richard nodded, conceding defeat. He knew the reasons Fia Carlotti hadn’t wanted him in her life, but it hurt like a rotting tooth. He barely had the chance to get to know her before she walked away, sloughing off her unhappy childhood and the death of her parents and becoming Raven, a young woman who was a complete stranger to him. As a result, he had forced her memory down into a place so deeply buried, he had never told Tino about her.

Does she ever ask about me?

Don’t do this to yourself, Frank. Chico used his gangster name without hesitation, but for once, Richard didn’t correct him. Instead, he looked at the woman in the passenger seat of the Ferrari.

How’s Amelia?

Pissed at us being here. And your man?

The same. Go home, Chico. Enzo would understand. Don’t get sucked back into that life for the sake of showing respect. Amelia doesn’t deserve that shit.

Chico looked over at the group. Yeah, I know. Neither does he. He nodded at Tino, also watching from inside the car.

Richard lit a cigarette, directing the smoke into the air away from them. I’ve got unfinished business.

Not with the Bianchi family. You sure it’s wise to get mixed up in that again? Juliana is Renate’s sister. You can sure as shit bet she won’t forget what you did to her and Rocco.

Richard took one final deep drag on the cigarette, then threw it on the ground, grinding it to dust.

I’m only following Enzo’s instructions. Now get the fuck out of here.

Chico nodded. He looked almost relieved. Take care of yourself. You know you can call me if things get rough.

Richard smiled grimly. Back at you.

Chico nodded and went back to his car. Richard did the same.

So, we’re going home? Tino asked with a degree of hope.

Take me down there. Richard motioned to the chauffeur.

Yes, sir. The car smoothly began to move.

Tino grabbed Richard’s arm with red-tipped fingers and held on tightly. Why are you doing this? I don’t want you to be with these people!

Richard pulled his arm away. I know, but Enzo’s last wish was for me to attend. If I don’t, it will be an insult.

He’s dead. He won’t know or care.

Richard ignored him. As Tom parked the Mercedes at the end of the long line of dark limousines, a beautiful woman separated from the crowd and walked towards them. She was tall and elegant, with slender ankles and a hat with a wide brim dipped over one eye.

Showtime, Richard said, with an attempt at humor. Go back home. I’ll see you later.

What? No, I’m waiting here! Tino’s voice rose sharply. He grabbed Richard’s arm again.

You can’t. I’m going back to the house afterwards. Richard wasn’t in the mood to argue. He hated it when Tino became clingy and unreasonable. He peeled his husband’s fingers away and climbed out of the car. Tom? Take him home and come back for me at the Carlotti place. You know the address.

For god’s sake, Richard, you promised me that part of your life was over! Tino stared at him in horror.

It’s thanks to Enzo Carlotti you’re here at all and don’t fucking forget it, Richard snapped.

I’m supposed to be grateful you were a gangster? Just remember what those people did to me! Tino’s voice rose as Richard climbed out the car. Don’t you dare walk away from me…

Richard slammed the car door on Tino’s protests, glad to escape.

As the woman watched him approach, he was aware of his husband’s laser focus, analyzing his every move.

The woman watched him, her eyes bright and greedy. She was as beautiful as her older sister, Renate, had been, but Richard knew very little about her. She had been living in Mexico all the time he had known the Carlottis.

One thing he did know; the apple never fell far from the tree.

So, you’re the famous Frank Mancini, she purred. I must say, Renate wasn’t exaggerating when she said you were a fine specimen of a man.

Juliana. I’m sorry for your family’s loss. He was determined to show her flattery cut no ice, and he intended to keep things formal. He kissed her on each cheek and once on her proffered hand, as was the family custom.

She tucked her baguette bag under her arm and flipped back her long dark hair. We are all very sad, as you can imagine. Her voice held no sincerity whatsoever.

I can tell. Richard went to walk past her, but she took his arm and slipped hers through it, forcing him to escort her to the waiting group.

TINO

As the car began to move, Tino ordered Tom to stop so he could take a closer look at the glamorous woman. He hated her on sight. She was slender and beautiful, with scarlet lipstick and black hair in a glossy chignon. As Richard approached her, she dabbed at her eyes then proffered her cheek for a kiss.

When Richard kissed her once on each cheek, then on her hand, it set all of Tino’s possessive instincts on high alert. They didn’t abate when Richard didn’t look back at him but escorted her to the waiting group.

As they went, Tino saw the woman glance back in his direction. She smiled slightly, almost as if in triumph, before turning away again. 

Are you ready to go, sir? Tom watched him in the rear-view mirror.

Silently, Tino nodded. Soon, the woman, the funeral party and his husband were out of view.

Feeling furious and helpless, Tino sent off a rapid text to Richard. 

Don’t shut me out again. I can’t stand it.

Ugh, that sounded weak and whiny. He texted again.

You’re a piece of shit and I hate you so much right now.

That didn’t make him feel any better.

It was late afternoon. Back at the apartment, he tossed his Burberry coat carelessly on the couch, poured himself a drink and went out onto the balcony, wrapping himself in a cashmere throw to keep warm. Beyond him was the view he had fallen in love with the moment he had first gone to Richard’s penthouse apartment on the Upper East Side.

Tino had moved into the apartment after their whirlwind romance resulted in marriage. The intention had always been for Richard to sell the place so they could choose somewhere that suited them both but nearly ten months after their wedding, that still hadn’t happened.

The apartment remained the same as when he had first seen it. He hadn’t done anything to put his own stamp on the place. At first, there wasn’t time. They had travelled extensively for their honeymoon and dealing with home furnishings wasn’t a priority for either of them.

But for the last few months, Richard had been working just as much as he had before his heart scare. He travelled extensively, visiting depots around the world, schmoozing with investors, generating new business whilst Tino organised his diary and made sure his life ran as smoothly as possible. He was aided by Kim, Richard’s long-standing valet and housekeeper, and a team of chauffeurs, pilots and security guards.

At first, Tino had embraced his new and exciting millionaire lifestyle. It was glamorous and exciting, a whirlwind of private jets and luxurious hotels. He could have made a living out of being an influencer on Instagram or even a model for glossy magazines but as time went on, he realized it didn’t interest him.

The penthouse didn’t interest him either. Buying outrageously expensive home furnishings or hiring an interior designer seemed wrong when he knew people in his parents’ neighborhood struggled to put food on the table.

Richard couldn’t understand what his problem was and after a while, Tino gave up trying to explain how he was feeling. Richard had either forgotten his modest beginnings on the Lower East Side or he had no desire to revisit them.

Tino had no such qualms about remembering his lower working-class past. In fact, he was proud of it. Very recently he had begun studying for his CPA, whilst working part-time for an accounting firm in Brooklyn. He had chosen that office deliberately, wanting to be close to his parents. He adored his family and in turn, they reminded him of who he really was. After only a few months of being Richard’s husband, he could feel his own identity gradually fading.

He was good at the accountancy job, and it gave him a sense of purpose, something he had been missing for a while. As for enjoying it, he wasn’t so sure.

He heaved a sigh and went back inside the icily chic apartment, sliding the glass doors shut on the cold night air. He looked around the open plan kitchen, lounge and dining area with a critical eye.

Maybe a few scatter cushions from Bloomingdales would help. Or a couple of throws. Maybe new lamps? Or a massive, fuck-off piece of abstract art to introduce some color in a place that was mainly black and white. If he could buy something from a gallery in the East Village, at least he’d be helping a local business.

Kim, their housekeeper, walked in with two bags of groceries. Tino groaned inwardly. He was not in the mood for Kim’s upbeat chat.

We don’t need supper tonight, Kim. You can go home to your family.

Mr. Mason not eating?

I don’t know when he’s back. I’ll prepare something for him if he comes in. I’m not great company tonight, Kim. Please go home.

The small Korean man looked speculatively at him. Mr. Tino not well?

I’m fine. Just a bit of a cold, Tino lied. Seriously, I’m fine.

Kim frowned unhappily but nodded. He put the groceries in the huge double refrigerator and mercifully left Tino alone.

Tino collapsed on the couch and reached for the television remote.

Later that evening, Richard still hadn’t returned. Tino huddled on the large leather couch, drinking bourbon and watching a dumb action movie. He wore one of Richard’s white shirts that he had retrieved from the laundry. It smelled deliciously of him and Tino took comfort from breathing his scent in his absence. His phone was by his side, but no texts had come in. He knew Richard wouldn’t rise to his last imploring message. It was a silent form of disapproval for the lack of trust Tino had in him. All it would have taken was one word, a loving kiss, anything to say he understood where Tino was coming from, that it was okay, and he didn’t need to worry. 

But he wouldn’t do that. Richard never did. He didn’t understand the subtle signals needed to reassure Tino everything was fine. Or he didn’t care. Sometimes it was hard to know which it was.

He thought about texting him again to ask when he was coming home, but he knew Richard wouldn’t answer that either. He hated being chased and nagged, and it seemed to Tino he was doing both more frequently recently.

Eventually, his phone buzzed with incoming mail. He gave it a cursory glance, then picked it up to read, seeing who had sent it. 

Hi Tino

I hope you’re doing okay and enjoying married life. Marcus and I wondered if you and Richard would like to come over and spend some time with Gino this summer? We have a large spare room and would love to finally meet you. What do you think? I wanted to ask you first before I contacted Richard, to see how you felt about it. 

All my best

Pagan x

Tino stared at the email for a long time, thinking of the implications.

He knew the invitation was inevitable. Richard had been travelling to England on a regular basis to spend time with his son. After the first couple of visits, he had even begun to stay at Pagan and Marcus’s house for a couple of nights. Apparently, he and Marcus got on surprisingly well.

Tino understood why Richard wanted to go on his own. He was treading a fine line, healing the rift between him and Pagan, getting to know her new husband and building memories with Gino. Tino didn’t want to be in the way of that.

He no longer saw Pagan as a threat either. She was married and comfortable with a man who treated Gino like his own son. Tino was happy for her and that made the situation easier to deal with.

But spending time with her? That was a big fat no. There was nothing wrong with the woman. In fact, over the course of their conversations on the phone, he had come to realize she was a charming, genuine person.

No, what made it awful was that Tino knew Richard wouldn’t even consult him about going to England. They would be going and that was that. Tino’s mixed feelings about the whole thing wouldn’t even be discussed.

For a moment he considered his options, then began to type.

This is a shit idea. I have no intention of spending time with you. If Richard wants to see Gino, he can do it in New York, and you can stay in the fucking Hilton.

He looked at the angry words, considering the pushback from Richard if he sent it.

The implications were hideous, and it was unfair on Pagan. He was angry with Richard, not her. Angry because there would be no discussion. The flight to England would be booked by the end of the night, and to hell with Tino’s feelings about it.

Fuck them both. He wanted his husband to come back to him and just for once, be a normal person without a gangland past, female exes waiting to screw things up and a kid who didn’t care who Richard was as long as he bought him presents. 

He deleted both his angry reply and Pagan’s email, then tossed the phone away. That little act of rebellion made him feel slightly better. He would tell Richard about the text in the morning, and say he deleted it accidentally.

The movie ended. Tino drained his bourbon and went up to their huge white bedroom, lying down in the dark. He was woozy from the J B Black he had hated before Richard introduced him to it, angry and emotionally exhausted.

On impulse, he went out into the hallway and picked up their favorite wedding photograph, taking it back to bed with him. He stroked the image of him and Richard on the dancefloor. The photograph had been taken by Tino’s mother and captured everything about their relationship; passion, impulsiveness, Richard’s elegance as he dipped Tino low to the floor, the heat in his Alaskan blue eyes. Tino was laughing, head thrown back, happy. There might as well have been no one else in the room.

He ran a fingertip along Richard’s sharp jaw, up to his axe blade cheekbones and straight black hair, thinking of how it had felt to be in his arms.

Had it all been an illusion? A marriage built on sand which was now crumbling away like many other wealthy couples on the Upper East Side?

He loved Richard. Truly he did, but right then, he wished he was back in his shitty rental apartment in Bedford Stuyvesant. And single again.

2

‘MANNERS MAKETH MAN’

RICHARD

The Bianchi family sat around the mahogany dining table in Enzo Carlotti’s palatial home, waiting for the Will to be read. An attorney who looked as if he would rather be elsewhere, fidgeted with his tie and waited for everyone to settle.

Richard had taken his place in Enzo’s seat, knowing it would annoy the hell out of Bianchi, who was forced to sit at the other end of the table. Juliana placed herself near to Richard.

Looking at her profile, Richard felt a tug in his groin. Her dark bobbed hair was styled in a similar way to how Pagan’s had been when they first met, and her plump lips would look very pretty wrapped around his cock.

Irritated at himself, he mentally shoved the image away, replacing it with Tino’s beautiful brown eyes and sultry lips. He was married, for fuck’s sake.

A humidor containing Enzo’s Cuban cigars sat in front of him. Glad for something to do, he chose a Double Corona and went through the process of lighting it, aware everyone was waiting for him.

He drew in the first lungful of fragrant smoke, savoring it, thinking of Enzo sitting in the same chair. He could practically hear him chuckling in the background.

Think you’re the big boss, huh, Mancini?

He didn’t think; he knew. The value of everyone in the room had tripled with Richard sitting at their fucking table. After he left, Bianchi and his cronies would go back to being average crooks in a city full of them. In a culture where big dicks were highly prized, Bianchi just didn’t measure up. He knew it. Richard knew it and so did everyone else sitting there, including Juliana.

He regarded her coolly over his cigar, letting creamy smoke drift from his lips. As if sensing his scrutiny, she looked his way, moving to make the deep vee of her silk dress widen enough to show more of a pale, firm breast. The sensual invitation was unmistakable.

Richard drew on the cigar again, maintaining eye contact with her. She bit her lip and squirmed in her seat. Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink and she looked down at the table.

Good. That could be something he could use in the future.

Let’s get on with it. Bianchi was impatient to hear about his share. As a close business colleague of Enzo, and practically family because of his marriage to Juliana, it was clear he was expecting a big payout. His chunky fingers drummed on the table, the large gold and diamond ring on his pinky flashing as they moved.

The nervous legal man swallowed, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing like a Thanksgiving turkey. This is the Last Will and Testament of Enzo Carlotti…

There wasn’t much to get excited about; sums of money for employees both present and former, including Chico Mendez. Enzo had no family left after Rocco and Renate’s demise. His wife had died many years before and her jewelry and other wealth had already been distributed.

He had also left Richard’s daughter, Raven, the sum of five million dollars and his apartment in Manhattan, which had drawn a sharp breath from Juliana. The money was to be held in trust by her guardian, whose name was confidential.

As the Will reading went on, Richard’s instinct for danger shifted to high alert. The Bianchis hadn’t been mentioned yet, and neither had he.

He knew Enzo had made him promise to attend this meeting for a reason. What had the old bastard been up to?

He sensed the end was near as the sums were getting bigger and the atmosphere in the room grew more tense.

To Vito and Juliana Bianchi, as sole surviving family members, I bequeath the sum of …

The Bianchis practically moved to the edge of their seats. The attorney had broken out into a sweat.

The sum of …. The man looked desperately at Richard. Sir, could you read this for me?

Richard stared flatly at him. I’m dyslexic, which puts you shit out of luck.

Right. The lawyer faltered as a gun muzzle was pressed to his neck.

Just spit it out, Bianchi barked.

The attorney cleared his throat. To Vito and Juliana Bianchi, as sole surviving family members, I bequeath the sum of five hundred thousand dollars on the understanding they remove their sorry, greedy asses from the US and go back to their villa in Cancun. The lawyer grimaced apologetically. I’m just reading what it said…"

Bianchi was on his feet. A measly five hundred thousand? Is this a fucking joke? What about the rest of it? What about this place? This is worth at least ten million. Who’s getting that? He stormed round the table and punched the attorney on the side of his head. The man cowered in his seat, trying to protect his head with his hands.

Let him finish, Vito. Richard was bored. He didn’t understand why Enzo wanted him to witness such an unedifying spectacle and understood even less why he had complied. Enzo didn’t give a shit about it all now that he was dead. He wasn’t going to rise up from whatever hell he had been consigned to, just so he could fire a lightning bolt up Richard’s disrespectful ass. He should have listened to Tino and stayed home.

Bianchi took his seat again and the lawyer cleared his throat, dabbing at his head with his handkerchief. The sum of five million dollars is to be donated to the Jerry Ford Center in Manhattan.

The mention of the LGBT charity for the homeless which Richard had heavily invested in a couple of years before made him snap to attention.

Excuse me?

Bianchi’s mean mouth twisted. Christ, what the hell? Is that why you came here a few weeks ago? To persuade Enzo to donate to your little faggot charity?

The charity has nothing to do with me. I’m merely an investor. Richard kept his face immobile. Inside, he was pleased Enzo had given the money, even if the primary reason was to kick his inheritors in the balls. I will pass on the news of Mr. Carlotti’s generosity to the founders. No doubt they will be in touch.

We will write to them. The lawyer’s hands shook as he held the document he was reading from.

What about this house? What about the place in Monaco? Who’s getting that? Bianchi asked to no one in particular.

All properties have already been sold and the funds distributed, sir. The attorney swallowed nervously. A great deal of Mr. Carlotti’s assets have already been dispersed.

Dispersed? Who to? Bianchi glared at Richard. You?

Richard shook his head. Nope. He didn’t have a clue either. Enzo had always kept his cards very close to his chest. He could have blown it all on the ponies for all Richard cared about it.

There is one more thing, the attorney said timidly.

Richard had a horrible feeling what was coming next. If he was right, then it was Enzo’s revenge for him walking out on the family all those years before.

No one really leaves the Family, Mancini. Just remember that.

Bianchi sat back down. Get on with it.

Sweat was pouring down the legal man’s face. Richard could smell his fear from where he sat.

The remainder of my assets are to be passed to Franco Giancarlo Mancini, for him to do as he pleases. No one… A terrified look at Richard. No one ever leaves the Family, you bastard fuck. His hands shook as he pointed to the words. It’s what it says here, Mr. Mancini.

Richard shrugged but inside he was raging. Enzo had shafted him, set him and the Bianchis on a collision course, thrown a nuclear bomb into his peaceful existence as a happily married, privileged family man.

No one ever leaves the Family.

In the silence, the attorney tucked Enzo’s Will into his briefcase.

You need to leave,