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Regina
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Dazed, I’m glad for the way Dominic takes my hand, guiding me into the living room. The men are and aren’t what I expect. They are the dark-haired, muscle bound mafia stereotype I’ve encountered at Johnny’s home. A second look and they remind me of Dominic’s surface calm that hides his alert, watchful tension ready to pounce. I have no doubt they are each carrying at least one weapon. I’m also sure they won’t need it to kill someone.
Only minutes after I’m introduced to them, Dominic squeezes my hand lightly before leaving with Vincent. The loss of his hand shouldn’t leave me so desperate for it. I clench my hand in memory.
Marco and Dario agree Marco will take the first twelve hours. Marco nods at me. “Mary made sure the kitchen is stocked, but if you want something from the kitchen in the club let me know. It’s the best Italian kitchen in the city.”
I give him a hesitant smile. “Thank you—”
A swift shake of his head as he goes stiff. “I’m going to warn you right now. My loyalty is to Dominic, to the Sabatini family. You might not yet have his ring on your finger, but you belong to Dominic. I will give my last breath to make sure you stay his and you are protected from everything, including your own foolish self.” He nods to the open door. “I’ll be by the door.”
Okay then, he won’t be any help.
And I need help so badly. That kiss in the library was so... I sigh as words fail me. Amazing, beautiful, wow, a ten on the Richter scale. I’m not even a hundred percent sure I’m awake because it was the kind of kiss I thought existed in books and dreams, not real life. This is bad, all I want is to beg Dominic to kiss me again, to take me into his arms and never let me go. To lie to me and tell me this will all turn out in happily ever after, not with the tears and pain I can’t help but feel hanging over me, us.
Sighing, I go back down the hallway to figure out if there is another way out of here besides through the brick wall of Marco. Across from the library there is a small half bath. A door is open to a large bedroom, it’s a nice room. Flat white paint covers the walls, but the wall behind the bed has a layer of wallpaper in a bright blue and silver of roses and vines. The hardwood that runs throughout the place is softened here with fuzzy white carpets, different than the expensive Persian rugs in the living room and library.
A massive four poster-bed sits high up; thank goodness I spot a small wooden stool below the bed. I’m tall but I’m not a hundred percent sure I’ll be able to get into the bed without it. Expensive-looking sheets and a thick white comforter are on the bed. On the wall above the padded white leather headboard is an oil painting of Renaissance Florence Italy with storm clouds hovering over the Duomo.
The room isn’t as large as the one I had in the condo, but I like it more. It’s homey in here, there is a chaise lounge in deep blue silk with a small table beside it in one corner. Piled in front of it are three medium-sized boxes with my name on them. My life had been distilled into three boxes and some clothes.
Sighing, I go into the walk-in closet. Even with a large center island it’s big, all my clothes are in here. I check the closed door and find a massive five-piece bathroom. Holy crap, the shower is huge, and there are so many jets and showerheads I lose count at nine. The moment I spot it all I want is to jump into the bath. It’s designed like an old clawfoot tub, but it’s wider and there are jets set into it. Getting closer I find there are settings that control the temperature and jets. This wasn’t the kind of cage I was expecting.
Nothing about this place is what I thought it would be, just like Dominic Sabatini.
***
Dominic
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As I knew it would, the news of my impending marriage to Regina has spread like wildfire among the family Vincent informs me. I check my watch as Vincent pulls into the driveway of Carlo Toro’s home. His request to see me as soon as I was back in Chicago at least still carried a hint of an ask instead of a demand. I wonder, was it as Dominic Sabatini, or the future son-in-law of his Don?
His heir, Salvatore, was the son of his sister. Their family wasn’t quite as old in this as mine, but they were just as powerful. Sal’s father and his grandfather were newer, they made a lot of money and they liked killing, which went far in the Outfit. Sal’s father demanded Sal over Luca as Carlo’s heir.
Johnny accepted it, as Luca was more of an asset in Vegas. However, I’m well aware Carlo doesn’t like Sal. Carlo had been unable to hide his disdain for his nephew as he shared his concern over Sal pressing for the Outfit to move into trafficking women, despite it being forbidden from the founding of the Outfit.
Our eyes had met briefly, Carlo only nodded, seeing the warning I gave him. If Sal attempted to traffic women, I would shed his blood before the sun set. That was almost two years ago, since then Sal has dropped the women issue, instead driving his crew further into the drug trade, with oxy and heroin his main income.
Entering Carlo’s home, I’m greeted with tense nods from his men; they do not attempt to remove my piece. Good. They do ask that Vincent remain outside. I nod to Vincent.
Carlo’s office door is open, he is alone in the room. I close the door. He’s aged since I saw him last only three weeks ago, I wonder how much of it is since the call from Johnny. He holds up his glass. “Drink?”
I shake my head as I undo my jacket and sit in front of his desk. “Johnny called you.”
He leans his head back to study me. “I know you don’t want to be underboss or Don when the time comes.”
My eyes narrow on him as I nod.
“Johnny doesn’t care. Frankly, I’m glad for it. Sal—” He shakes his head. “I can barely control him now. Him taking over will be the end of us, of my family at the very least.”
Fucking hell, no.
“Dom, we need you. This is your birthright. It always has been.”
“I don’t want this.” I spit out the words. Bitterness wells up inside me.
Carlo scoffs. “Too fucking bad. Your duty is to the family, to your Don. When Johnny dies, I become Don and you become underboss.”
Exhaling slowly, I attempt to rein in my anger. It doesn’t fucking help.
“Approval has been given, you will kill Sal, before he kills you.”
Ice forms over my anger, everything else is secondary. “Does he know it’s coming?”
“No idea. He’s not the brightest. I assured him that I wouldn’t allow Johnny to change my plans.”
“Where is he now?”
“Getting fucked by some whore.” He leans over and offers me a slip of paper. It has an address on it along with an apartment number. “His men don’t go with him when he goes there.”
I take the address. “I’ll call you when I’m in place. You’ll tell him he needs to come to you. He’s still driving that damn Ferrari?”
A nod. Carlo agreed something so flashy was a liability. Sal had no concept of not making waves, he loved eyes on him.
Checking my watch, I stand. I don’t bother giving him another look, still pissed at what he’s agreed to. Before I’m out of the house, I’m on the phone with one of my men, Mikey. He can meet me with what I ask for.
Vincent isn’t surprised when I tell him. “This is a good thing, for the entire family. I’ll step up, Boss. You won’t need to take it all on by yourself. I know how hands-on you prefer to be, but it will be understandable if you aren’t.”
Shaking my head, I work at containing my anger. “One issue at a time.”
He nods as he stops for a red light.
The place has an underground garage unstaffed, perfect. We go around then double back two blocks. I get out of Vincent’s Escalade and into a plain white cargo van with the name of a painting supply company that doesn’t exist on the side. After tonight it will be a plain white cargo van with another name of a business that doesn’t exist, and the plates Mikey stole will be tossed.
Inside the van plastic is laid out, held down by five-gallon drums of paint. Vincent gets into the back, I take the passenger seat, and Mikey drives us to the garage. It takes a minute for the electronic device to find the right code to get the gate open. The Ferrari takes almost five minutes to find, there’s an empty spot just one over from it.
I make the call to Carlo. Pulling my Sig from its ankle holster, I thread the suppressor onto it. Briefly, I close my eyes, touching the cold, letting it come over me. Now we wait.
More than ten minutes pass before I spot Sal. His steps are slow, shuffling. He’s wasted. I exit the van, come up behind Sal, guiding him toward the van. The dumbass is so out of it, he doesn’t even react until we’re almost to the van.
“What the—”
Two shots, one in the chest sends him through the open doors and the other through the back of the head. The shots are barely coughs punctuating the echoing empty dark. Mikey slides Sal’s body further into the van. Vincent pulls out the plastic from under the paint drums to wrap it around Sal’s body.
Mikey opens the passenger door for me, I get in. The garage is still empty as we leave. Vincent and I get out of the van beside the car.
“I’ll take it from here, Boss.” Mikey holds his hand out for my gun. I wipe it down then hand it to him. He’ll dispose of it far from where he dumps Sal.
I make the call to one of Carlo’s men. “It’s done.” The ice floats away, but it’s always there just under the surface when I need it.
***
Regina
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I’m in the library when I hear the indicator for the elevator. It isn’t easy to make myself stay where I am. I recognize Dominic’s step as he walks down the hall; he is silent in the open doorway. The feel of his eyes on me is too strong to ignore. Tension is in every line of him.
“What happened?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing, I just came back to change. I need to get down to the club. I’ll be there until about five, maybe six in the morning. Then I sleep. I’ll be up around one. We’ll figure out the wedding plans then.”
I’m drawn to him even though everything in him is screaming to stay the hell away. He takes a step back; I reach out and catch his wrist. “Dominic, please tell me what happened.”
His strong jaw works, I long to touch the skin there. I spot it, there’s blood splatter on the white cuff of his shirt. “Whose blood is it?”
He yanks his arm from me. “Sal’s. When Johnny dies, I become underboss, and before it’s all over I’ll be Don.”
“I’m sorry.” The words are a whisper. I should be afraid of him—he’s nearly vibrating with rage. I’m not. He’s not mad at me. I know he won’t hurt me, not physically. It’s just my heart he’ll break into a million pieces. “I am so sorry.” I don’t know what else to say.
I gasp in shock at how fast he moves. My hair is in his hand and he’s yanking my head back to look up at him. “How sorry are you, princess?”
His words are a purr, and oh god they make everything inside me hot and wet and aching. Those blue eyes are fire burning into me. “Are you sorry enough to give me the relief I need, hmm? I need it bad, princess.”
The sound of a zipper moving causes my nipples to harden and wet heat floods my panties. He’s guiding me down to my knees. I fight him, his grip becomes punishing. “I need your mouth. Your beautiful, tempting mouth that had me coming in minutes when I’ve lasted for hours.”
My mouth waters, and my knees weaken. His large hand is stroking his thick length, and I long to touch and taste him all over again. “Show me how sorry you are, princess.”
Even as a tiny voice is screaming no, I’m reaching for him, desperate to give him what he needs. To answer my own greedy need.
“Dom, it’s Johnny.”
Shame slams into me. Marco is down the hall, I can’t see him, don’t dare look. Dominic’s hand tightens in my hair. “Tell him I’ll call him back, for fuck’s sake.”
“I already said that, Boss. He’s demanding to speak to you.”
Cursing, Dominic releases me then his hands go around my arms, setting me on my feet. Immediately, I flee to my room, slamming the door behind me.
***
Dominic
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“What the fuck do you want?” I snarl into the phone Marco hands me.
“Have you fucked her yet?”
“Jesus, you dare ask me that? She’s mine now. She is none of your concern. My Don or not.”
“Good, you haven’t fucked her. The day after your wedding I want her sheets presented.”
“You’ve lost your damn mind. I won’t allow—”
“It is my right as her father that you display them and confirm my honor.”
“Fuck you,” I growl. Thank fuck he’s not in front of me right now. “You were a shitty father. You dumped a small child in a country where she didn’t even speak the language and ignored her for almost a fucking decade. There is no honor in what you did to her.”
“I kept her pure for you. Why the hell do you think you were allowed not to marry?”
I’m shaking my head, no, no fucking way. “She was a child when I made that deal.”
“Exactly, I knew it would be many years before you would change your mind. She had to grow up first. Why do you think I didn’t send for you to New York?” The smug bastard chuckles.
“I did not think she was ready for you yet. Regina had some growing up to do. She was a timid little mouse when she came to New York. Tony said you would reject her, that she needed to be stronger, have more fire in her for you to want her.”
There is no thought behind the punch I send into the wall in front of me. Plaster gives way, at a cost to my knuckles. Motherfucker, the pain helps to keep me from losing my shit.
“The sheets will be presented at the breakfast after your wedding night. If there is nothing on them, you will be the one shamed for it.” The fucker hangs up on me.
Rage sends a wash of red in front of my eyes until I am blind with it. All these years Johnny played me, moved Regina and me around on a board we didn’t know we were on. I warned her she was playing checkers when Johnny was playing chess, without ever realizing the same thing was being done to me.
Sonofabitch.