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Tony
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The absence of sound is what wakes me. It’s such an oddity that my mind rebels against it. For a moment, nothing makes sense. An inner clock is telling me it’s around midnight. As I’m wondering what the hell happened, the back-up generator comes on. The door of my bedroom is open. I hear the refrigerator and the hum of the generator.
What the hell? I move for my phone on the bedside table, careful not to disturb Christy, who is clinging tightly to me, even asleep. There’s an alert that a grid has lost power in my area, they are working to fix it. It will be a few hours. It’s almost one in the morning, the alert was sent almost ten minutes ago. I need to get up. The music system isn’t connected to the back-up generator, just the panic room, alarm system, and safes.
Christy moans in protest, her arm tightening around me. My name comes out of her in a whisper. Intent on soothing her, I pull her tighter against me. She sighs as she goes limp in my arms. But my cock is hard all over again for her. Awe rolls through me as every moment comes back to me. So many women over the years, yet not one of them compared to Christy. Nothing has ever come close to what happened with Christy.
Could it really happen after all this time?
“Tony,” Christy moans my name as her hand slides down my chest. “You’re so hard...everywhere.”
Fucking hell, I grab her wrist and roll her under me. I swallow her groan. Damn, I hate the dark. I want to see her, all of her. Her entire body is perfection to me. I love every single inch of her golden skin. I adore her breasts, the way they fit my hands, my mouth. The taste of her skin on my tongue only fuels my hunger for more of her. I need the sweet honey of her pussy. More of this, all of this, so fucking sweet. My cock is raging to be inside her. The feel of her tight cunt wrapped around me is pleasure on a level I’ve never known, had no idea was even possible.
Hours, I enjoy sex for hours, drawing out the pleasure, ensuring a woman comes from my long, thick cock without any pain. Right now, I can’t. I can’t fucking breathe until my cock is inside her. Plunging deep into her, she’s so damn wet I slide all the way deep—home. We both moan at the feeling. Home, peace, bliss expands to every cell in my body at being inside her, as deep as I can be.
Christy moans my name as a small shudder runs through her. I want to tell her I know, but no words will come. At last, I have the strength to move inside her. As badly as I want to go slow, I can’t. Five strokes are all it takes for Christy to come. Her body trembling in orgasm—grasping me tight from within, her body milks my cock with every shudder. I follow her into a climax that rocks me to my core. Damn it, I fall on her and hate myself for it—I’m too fucking big. Yet as I move to roll off her, Christy moans, her nails digging into me as she clings tight.
I roll onto my side, keeping her close, my cock inside her. Her cunt grips me tight, and a moan slides out of her as she nuzzles closer into me.
The silence is there at the edge of my mind. If I don’t get up and hook up the music system, there will be nothing but silence. Except I’m not ready for Christy to wake and deal with the questions she will have. I don’t have the answers to her questions because I’m not fucking sure what the hell is happening or will happen.
From as young as I can remember my father and nonno prepared me for a life of power, control, death, destruction—becoming mafia. Planning, preparation, and knowledge were key in everything I did, in every move I made. To not know...for the first time in years, I am unsettled. A little whimper comes out of Christy. I squeeze her tight, and she sighs my name. Christ, nothing in this world has ever sounded so good.
***
Tony
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I come awake with a start at the sound of the front door slamming closed. It’s Carmella coming in for the day, which means it’s a little after six-thirty in the morning. I look down at Christy wrapped around me. My cock, still deep inside her, jerks in reaction at how fucking amazing she feels.
Taking a deep breath, I can’t believe it. This is the first night I’ve slept all the way through in years. I’m not sure I really believe it, to have fallen asleep as easily as I did. Without the voices haunting me, without the dark thoughts weighing on me. It’s not just how I fell asleep; it’s how I’m waking up, content and happy. The feelings are so rare I do remember the last time it happened. It was a weekend I took Anthony and Dominic to the lake house. For the first time, it was just the three of us. Normally, my parents were with us, their mother never came.
It was a simple weekend filled with everything the boys wanted to do. We ate hotdogs cooked over a fire. There was too much candy, and comic books, and no vegetables in sight. The last night we were there, the boys fell asleep on me as we watched a bad movie.
I woke up to Anthony on my chest, and Dominic curled up on my lap. Even though I didn’t know it would be the last time Anthony would cling to me or Dominic would look at me without knowing I was a killer. Deep down in those early moments of waking, I knew enough to hold the moment tight and treasure it. Two weeks later, I would participate in the massacre of the Berlucci family and my boys became one hundred percent aware of who and what I was. Their training had to begin, and nothing was ever the same for them, for me, for us as a family.
Today for the first time in a long fucking time, I know contentment. I’m at peace, and it’s because of Christy. Closing my eyes, I sigh. The moment I saw her, I knew deep down everything had changed.
I can’t kill her. I don’t want to kill her. I never wanted to kill her, not since I read the report on her. As I pushed the heroin across the table to her, for the first time since Anthony’s funeral, I prayed for strength to endure what would come next. When she pushed it back to me, I almost stood up and took her then and there. If she was willing to fight, then so was I.
I’m keeping her. The only problem is it won’t be enough to simply keep her. I’m going to have to make her fall in love with me, to bind her to me so tightly she can never bring herself to hurt me.
There lies a double-edged sword. Love is one of the few things that will lead a sane person to madness and be willing to kill when they never thought they would or even could. It comes to me, how to tie her to me without the fear of her blowing out my brains when it goes bad—the two losses she endured. The file said there were five in vitro tries total to get those two pregnancies.
If she wants a baby, I’ll give her a baby. For an unbearably long decade, I wanted more children after Dominic. Until the day my wife died, I held out hope she would give me another child. I wanted a half dozen, a home filled to bursting with children. I gave up on the dream with her death. Once she was dead, the idea of tying myself to another woman for the rest of my life was a hard fucking no. As the years went on, none of the women I met ever changed my mind, not even for the children a few hinted they wanted.
When Anthony died, something died inside me. I’m not even sure what it was exactly. The part of you that has hope, that believes in miracles and magic and all the rest of the shit you say you don’t believe in but deep down, you wish might be real. I still had Dominic, and he would have to be enough. And he was. I wasn’t willing to take a chance again with another woman.
With Christy I’m not simply going to take a chance, I’m going to squeeze it tight with both hands and not let go. She wants a baby—I’m going to give her one. Hell, after twice last night, I might have already given her one.
Yeah, I’m a fucker who never wears a condom. I didn’t when I was fifteen and I haven’t in all the years since. Some women bitched but never enough that it was a deal breaker. It was one of the reasons I preferred longer relationships with women I could trust.
Christy hadn’t said a word, probably hadn’t even thought of it. With her being married and wanting a baby, she likely wasn’t on birth control. I managed to get my wife pregnant both times over weekend, maybe I’ll get lucky again. This, us, needs to get settled as quickly as possible. Christy isn’t going anywhere. She might get pissy about me getting her pregnant without her asking for it, she’ll get over it.
Feeling the shift in her, I look down to find Christy staring up at me with soft, curious eyes. I run a finger along her cheek. “Good morning.”
Her voice is husky with sleep. “Is it going to be my last morning?”
Ah, her fire. I love it as much as her perfect tits. “Not today.”
She pulls back. “So will it be tomorrow?”
To avoid answering the question, I take her mouth the way I’ve wanted to since I woke up. As I hoped, all thought disappears for the both of us.
“Oh, sorry!” Carmella yells before she slams my bedroom door closed.
Christy buries her face in my neck. “Oh god, how embarrassing.”
“It’s fine. Come on, I’m running behind. We’ll save time and shower together.”
Her hazel eyes glitter emerald up at me, the same way they had when I was inside her. Fuck, she is beautiful. We are going to have gorgeous baby girls. I can’t wait. Picking her up, I take her with me into the bathroom. A punch brings up my saved setting, she gasps as the water runs over us. Those perfect tits sway and I need a taste. Her hands go around my neck as she melts into me. Christ, it’s not enough. I need to be inside her again. I back up to the bench and hit another button for the shower head above us. Then I’m down, pulling her onto me.
We both moan as she slides down my cock. Will it always steal my breath? Blow my mind? Then she begins moving on me, and this is all that matters. I suck deep on a tight nipple, loving the way she gasps, and her tight cunt clutches at me in time with my mouth working her. She comes, and fuck. It’s hard not to come with her but I’m not ready yet. No, I need more of this. More of her breathy little moans and whimpers. More of the taste of her skin. And so much more of my cock deep inside her hot, wet heaven.
Christy is begging me to come, no. If she can still talk, she’s not out of her mind enough for me. Not even close. I slide my hand down over her ass and my middle finger into her tight hole. She screams my name, and fucking hell her nails dig into my neck. Ah hell, just like this. Within minutes she’s coming again, and this time I come with her.
Shit, my whole body wants to shut down and stay in this moment but time is bearing down on me. I’m late. I can’t be late—not two days in a row. If people think I’m slipping, even a little, it will get out, and I’ll be dealing with bullshit from it.
I grab a washcloth and body wash and soap us both up quickly. Christy grumbles at me moving. “Piccolina, I’m running behind. Come on, help me out here. Do you need to wash your hair?”
Lifting her off me, we both sigh a little at the loss—our eyes meet at the sound. An odd flutter happens inside my chest at what I see her eyes. Then she blinks and it’s gone.
“I do—have to wash my hair. You got me all wet. If I get out without conditioning it, it will get all dry. This is your shampoo and conditioner? I’m jealous these little bottles are thirty dollars each. I could never afford them.” She becomes overly fascinated with the shampoo and conditioner. I let her go because I understand she’s spooked, and so am I.
“Have at them. Carmella buys this stuff and tells me to use it, so I do. I’m going to go get your suitcases. Move it.” I slap her ass as I get out of the shower, not stopping to dry off, simply tying a towel around me.
Grabbing her suitcases from the guest bedroom, I’m on the way back to my room when Carmella runs up the stairs. “Who is that?”
“Her name is Christy. She’s moving in. When we leave unpack her suitcases and put it away in my room. I’ll have the rest of her things from her place sent over later today. Unpack her clothes, the rest leave in the closet for her to figure out later.”
Carmella’s eyes go wide. “Living here?”
I nod and don’t bother adding the whole story. Carmella will open her mouth and tell me everything that’s wrong with what I’m doing. In my walk-in closet, I set the suitcases on the large accessories island and get dressed. I’m almost done and about to go get Christy out of the shower when she walks in. She’s running a towel through her hair, her body wrapped in another towel.
“How soon will it take you to get ready?” I ask as I take the towel off her.
She blushes as she digs into her suitcase and steps into a pair of silky black panties. “Um, I don’t know. Maybe twenty minutes. Mainly, it’s drying my hair.”
“Okay, nothing too sexy. I don’t need my men eyeing you and getting any ideas.” When I set both the gun and knife on the island, Christy eyes them and steps back visibly uncomfortable. Good. I slide the knife onto my forearm as I watch her put on a matching black bra.
“Wait, what is happening?” She crosses her arms across her body.
“What’s happening is you’re coming with me to work. I need to check on last night’s take and what today looks like for my bookie business. Who owes, who is getting paid, and who wants to make bets on the coming day. I’m there for a few hours then I go upstairs and open my bookstore. Later in the afternoon, I check on the real estate business I run with Dominic.” I look up, and she’s in a red wrap dress that shows off her curves too much.
“Not that. Something else.” I go through her suitcase and find a long black dress in a soft knit.
She sighs but takes it and puts it on. Damn, she is still sexy as fuck. At least this one covers her up even though her curves are on display in a very different way. I look at the suitcase again and wonder what else she might have. We’re going to have to go shopping for her tomorrow—maybe even today.
I turn, and my gun is in my face. I’d taken my eyes off her for too damn long. A chuckle slides out of me. This woman.
The gun shakes in her hand. “I’m just going to walk away. From you. From all of this. And you need to let me go.”
***
Christy
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His chuckle sends ice down my spine. There isn’t an ounce of humor in it. Blue eyes meet mine, and what I see in them has me trembling so badly I can barely hold the gun straight. It’s so much bigger and heavier than the one I had. This is the man who has killed countless people. The man who killed six men in seven days. And now I know true fear of him.
Ever since Tony pulled me across the table to him last night everything seemed like a fantasy of some fevered dream. Sex isn’t that amazing—not in real life. No kiss can blow someone’s mind like his did. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. He’s biding his time to kill me because he has to. I’m not sure what kind of sick joke he’s playing but I’m not falling for it. Before he takes not just my sanity but my life, I need to get away.
I blink and holy fucking shit. One hand grabs the gun from me, the other hand goes into my hair and yanks me over the accessories island. Ouch god, it’s digging into my stomach as I’m forced facedown on the island. The heavy gun is a weight in the middle of my back that freezes me in place. His other hand pulls up my dress and tears off my panties.
He moves so fast my mind is still trying to understand why I’m on the island when a huge hand comes down on my ass. Oh god, I fight not to scream from the pain. Before I can suck in air he’s moved to the other cheek. Back and forth, between each quivering ass cheek he brings down his hand. It’s the tenth extremely painful smack to each my right cheek that breaks me. My ass is on fire as I beg him to stop. I can’t take anymore. Two more smacks to each cheek and finally, his hand lays where it lands.
Lungs shuddering with effort, I gasp as his fingers find what I prayed wasn’t happening to me. How wet I am from the spanking. So wet my thighs are slick with need for him. His hand moves and slaps my swollen lower lips, tearing a scream from me. Two, three, four, god please stop. Five and my legs give out from under me, and I almost fall.
Tony’s hand in my hair twists painfully. I can’t keep fresh tears from my eyes at his punishing grip. Through the tears the expression on Tony’s face is seriously scary. Using my hair, he pulls me up to him. I’m on my tip toes to reach him.
The cold metal barrel of the gun runs down my cheek, and I can’t keep from flinching. “Doesn’t feel so good, does it, piccolina? Having a gun pointed at you?” he croons low in his throat. “Do not ever pull a gun on me again. Because if you do, I’ll have to hurt you.”
New tears fall as his hand tightens even more.
“You think you’re hurting now? From a spanking that made you wet?” He shakes his head, still that soft and scary crooning. I hate that he’s hurting me, yet I’m wet at the same time. I’m seriously fucked up. “Oh no, this is not even a fraction of what I will do to you. I do not want to hurt you, Christy. Don’t make me do it.”
I believe him. He could have hurt me, killed me, a dozen times already. The spanking, while seriously painful, could have been much worse. “I’m sorry, Tony. Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
The gun disappears. He lowers his head to me and presses a kiss to my trembling lips. “I know you are, baby.” His eyes meet mine. “You will always get one chance with me. Just one. After that, you’re going to wish you never used up the chance. Do you understand me?”
The words are frozen in my throat. All I can do is nod.
“Your pussy is so wet it’s running down your legs. Interesting. My cock is hard, it’s the reaction of a gun being held to my head and not going off. What’s your reason, piccolina? I have to admit the last thing I thought would make you wet was a spanking. We’ll look into it in the future. For now...” Roughly, he forces me to my knees. His cock is out and pressing against my lips so fast I don’t have time to breathe before he’s forcing it into my mouth.
God, there is something seriously fucking wrong with me to be so damn wet right now. While my ass and pussy are burning from his punishment, why am I wet? Why am I sucking him as if he’s the last thing I’ll ever taste, the only thing I want in this world? Then nothing matters as he takes over, fucking my throat roughly, controlling me and this moment.
Seconds after he comes, he zips up and turns away. My duffle bag lands in front of me. “Go fix your hair. What do you want for breakfast?”
“Eggs and toast are fine,” I mumble. Even though the last thing I feel like doing is eating right now. He leaves without looking back.
The minute he’s gone I lock myself in the bathroom and clean up—my face on fire at how wet I am. Done. I do my hair in a daze as what happened in the closet replays. Why the hell did the spanking make me so wet? Tony running the gun along my cheek, the warning of only one chance to cross him. How completely fucked up I must be to get wet when he forced his cock down my throat after that seriously scary moment.
Going downstairs, I glance at the front door but don’t dare try it. Tony is at the kitchen table. A plate of scrambled eggs and toast is waiting across from him.
The woman who had caught us this morning is there. I can see now she’s tall and thin, with long brown hair and black eyes. She’s watching me with interest. “Coffee or espresso?”
It feels like a test. “Coffee, please.”
I failed the test. She frowns and nods before going into the pantry. As I sit, I gasp at the pain I managed to forget. I expect a smile or satisfaction from Tony, he doesn’t even look up from the iPad he’s reading the newspaper on. I don’t know why I thought he would be more old school. I’m almost done with my food when a coffee cup is set down in front of me, along with small containers of sugar and cream. I use both liberally, which also gains me another frown from the woman.
The moment I set the cup down, Tony glances at the coffee. “You drink coffee?”
I nod.
He says something to Carmella in Italian. Her eyes go wide as she looks at me. She nods, though, and doesn’t say a word.
“Time to go. Vito is here.”
His hand is at my back as he guides me toward the large, black Cadillac Escalade. He opens the back door for me and waits until he sees me fastening my seatbelt before he closes the door and goes around to the other side and gets in beside me. I feel the guy in the front seat staring at me. He’s the one who didn’t say anything from last night. His eyes narrow on me but he doesn’t say a word to me, just greets Tony.
It only takes about ten minutes to get to where we are going. As the vehicle comes to a stop, Tony presses his hand on mine to keep me where I am. He’s out and opens my door for me again. His hand goes around mine to help me down. Once again, his hand goes to my back, guiding me toward the building.
I want to look around the bookstore but keep going as Tony’s long legs move us down a long hallway toward a door marked Storage and then down a long set of stairs. As we enter, everyone seems to stop and stare at us. I find myself pressing against Tony. No one is mean or threatening; it’s simply unnerving. A few men have their suit jackets off and are wearing holsters holding guns.
It’s a large open room with four desks, and men in suits sitting at them. At first glance, it looks like an insurance office or something except there are television screens lining the walls like a sports bar. Everything from soccer to basketball games are playing. Something is streaming along the bottom, a closer look and I figure out it’s the odds on the games.
We’re in a corner office where Tony closes the door. “Have a seat wherever. You’re about to be bored.”
There’s a wall of bookcases overflowing with books behind his desk. I’m curious about the books he wants this close to him. Scanning the shelves, the Shakespeare doesn’t surprise me, all the Jane Austen does. I take out a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. “Jane Austen?”
The dimple flashes in his cheek. “My mother loved her. I didn’t get children’s books. I got Mansfield Park and Sense and Sensibility.”
“Wow, I like your mom. Is she the influence of Shakespeare too or...”
“All her. I pleaded for something other than ‘girl’ books and got the Merchant of Venice. I didn’t understand half of it when she started reading it to me. I was eight years old. Over time, I came to like the whole different way you get lost in an old language that helps sucks you even more into the story.”
“She didn’t start the bookstore, though, right?” I could have sworn he started it.
“No, she probably would have if my father thought to ask her. Then again, it’s a good thing he didn’t. She wouldn’t have left the place. Growing up with asthma can be bad in even the best months of the weather in Chicago and hers was bad pretty much all the time. From a young age, books were the only way she got out of the house. Her mother was very protective of her.” He runs a finger down the spine of a book causing me to shiver at the way it’s a caress as much as when he ran his finger down me.
“Where did you catch the book bug? You’re holding that book like you’re afraid I’m going to take it away from you.”
Blushing, I hand it to him. I’ve already read it several times. I want to start reading again, but new books I haven’t read. “Danny. He had books from that one lawyer turned writer who pumped out a dozen in a few years. He was a low-level grifter and thought law was the best damn white-collar grift game there was. A few times, he daydreamed about getting a law degree even though he didn’t even have a high school diploma or GED. I was only seven when we moved in with him, and there were these books all over the house. Picking one up was almost by accident. Then when I started reading them, I couldn’t stop.”
Soft blue eyes run over me. “Why couldn’t you stop?”
“Because while I was reading I was in that world. And believed I could be the people I was reading, strong, brave...all the things I couldn’t be outside of them.” I admit. Our eyes meet, and my stomach flips at what I see. A different kind of fear fills me, stealing the air from my lungs. It’s the moment in the shower again when we were in tune at the loss of him inside me. Tearing away my eyes from his, I spot another book and take it off the shelf. “You speak Latin?”
“Yes, before I spoke Italian.” A lift of his shoulders. “It’s a family thing. Something about the basics of language, the basics of being a Sabatini.”
“Your son, you taught him Latin as well?”
He nods. “Of course. I had hoped my brother would do the same with his sons but no. At least he raised them speaking Italian. If nothing else, a Sabatini’s first language should be Italian.”
Something flickers in his eyes when he mentions his brother. I wonder if it’s the murder-suicide the man committed against his wife then himself. Or was it how the man was a lawyer in the district attorney’s office? “Your brother, you really weren’t close?” In researching Tony, I had come across not just the murder-suicide articles, there were interviews he’d given about why he became a lawyer. Those interviews mentioned his family.
The flicker happens again, anger—different than the anger from the moment in the closet. “No, the bastard broke our mother’s heart. He was too good to be mafia. Not too good to take our father’s money for school, though. Said our father owed him, he cashed the check then never spoke to my mother again. Despite living less than ten miles from her for the rest of her life.”
“What happened?” It’s clear the pain of his mother affected him deeply. I’m jealous of the relationship he had with his mother. A mother who read to him, who gave him the love of books, who gave him love.
“My uncle, her brother, was a bad guy and the Don ordered his death. The hit man thing is a myth, a hit happens by whoever can get close to the hit. For my uncle, the person closest to him was my father. For many years, my mother didn’t know who did it. When she found out it was my father even though she knew her brother was a bad guy, it messed with her. It was their first and only real fight after they were settled into marriage and was big enough she tried to leave him. She said she needed space, she’d be back. My father wasn’t having it. You stay and you fight it through. She wanted to sleep in the guest bedroom fine, but she wasn’t going anywhere.” His hand runs through his hair.
“Pop carried her kicking and screaming into the house. My brother heard what they were fighting about. Our father had told him, raised us this is the life we would lead. There were things we would do others couldn’t. Salvatore knew that. I think it freaked him out though one day he might be called upon to kill family. One of the basic tenets of the mafia is it comes before all else, even your own family.”
He sighs and glances to the closed door of his office. “The thing was, for Sabatinis we say fuck that rule. We mouth the words, but a Sabatini family member comes before the mafia. There are plans in place, going back to my grandfather, if we ever need to, that we’ll cut and run rather than put the family first. I don’t know how Salvatore didn’t get it. Both my grandfather and father were clear on the importance of our family before the family. My father killed his brother-in-law because he was a woman-raping, piece of shit who got caught skimming. Not because his Don ordered it.”
“Did your mother know about the rape thing?” I can’t imagine being torn between the love of my brother and my husband.
His hand goes up to the back of his neck. “No, my father was trying to protect her from it. She had an idea her brother wasn’t a good guy but not to what extent. Her father and brother were mafia, but without much honor than whatever made them money. She didn’t get there were degrees of bad not to be crossed. Her mother didn’t really want her to know much. However, she picked up enough living in a home where it went on around her. It wasn’t until my father saw it was tearing her up that he told her all the bad shit her brother did. They were able to patch things up, but Salvatore wouldn’t let it go. Got all hateful of the family and my father. Went off to Yale, got a fancy degree that mafia money paid for, then went after us through the D.A.’s office.”
“I read some of the stuff he said. It was pretty harsh. I can’t believe he took money yet ignored his family the rest of his life.” What a dick.
“Hm, his wife came to see me a few times and brought their kids.” His chuckle is bitter. “She needed money and used those kids to get it. My mother would have ordered me to hand over every penny we had to see those kids. Salvatore was so full of himself as some righteous do-gooder. Then he turned around and killed his cheating wife and himself because he couldn’t let her go. I’m glad my mother died before she saw him do it. He hurt her enough. Fucked up the whole damn family more than enough.”
I want to ask, but I bite my tongue.
He sees it and sighs. “Because of him, Dominic won’t have kids.”
“What?”
“My mother basically raised my kids because my wife wouldn’t. Dominic saw how much it hurt my mother for Salvatore to deny her and his family. The mafia is a family business in every sense of the word. My sons, and if Dominic were to have a son would be expected to continue on in this life. If they didn’t,” he sighs. “It would not go over well among the family. Salvatore didn’t want anything to do with the mafia. He was bitter and vocal about how even though he wasn’t one of us, his name was Sabatini and it haunted him in this city. Dominic wants his kids to be free to be whatever the hell they want to be. Since they won’t have that freedom, he would rather not have them at all.”
“I’m sorry.” I long to touch him, to soothe the anger in him. “Did you want to be a grandfather?”
“It’s not about me having a grandchild. I want my son to be happy. The best thing to ever happen to me in this life is my sons. Children are agony and ecstasy, the agony soon forgotten over the ecstasy. I wanted him to have that.”
A lump is in my throat at his words, at the emotion churning in his blue eyes. This time I can’t stop reaching out to him. My hand goes to his chest as I step forward on unsteady legs. His hands go to my waist, and his lips tease mine before his tongue slides inside my mouth.
The phone on his desk rings, and I jump. Tony smiles as he reaches over and answers the phone. His other hand on my waist moves up my back, keeping me against him. Once again, he speaks Italian with whoever is on the phone. I have no idea what’s being said, but it’s clear his Italian flows more smoothly than the other person’s. The call doesn’t last long.
“Do you speak Italian all the time with your men, or is it because I’m here?” I’m curious.
His dimple flashes at me. “Because you’re here. You don’t speak any language other than English.”
It’s not really a question, but I answer anyway. “No, I took Latin in school because I got laughed at by the other Mexican kids when I tried to speak Spanish. I was glad I did for nursing. It helped with the medical terms. When I was going through nursing school, it was my elective in college. I can read it and understand most of it but speaking it...not so much.”
He’s pleased, and I have no idea why. “Maybe try that book to familiarize yourself with the language again.”
“Hm, maybe it will help me learn Italian.”
He goes still. “I’d like it if you did.”
“Really?” Wait, I’ll be around him long enough to learn a language? “That wouldn’t put a crimp in you being able to have discussions with people so I don’t understand you? What did you tell Carmella today?”
He does that exhale thing that’s almost a laugh but not really. I want to hear him laugh, really laugh. It doesn’t feel like it’s something he does often. The hand on my lower back moves up as he presses his lips to my cheek. “Don’t worry about what I told Carmella. Read the book you have, see how comfortable you still are with Latin. Have a seat. I need to let my man in so I can get down to business.”
Annoyed at him, I take the book and settle into the couch on the other side of the large room. My ass still burns, but there’s a hint of pleasure to the pain I never believed possible. It feels good enough to pull a sigh from me. Blushing, I do my best to focus on the book. Studying it, I frown as I realize it’s a biography on Archimedes. I usually hate biographies, they’re always so dry and boring.
I’m proud of myself for how much I remember and how easy it is to read. The low murmuring of Tony and the guy he’s talking to barely makes an impact. It takes almost an hour before I even become aware there’s music on in the background here again and only because it’s switched between classical to jazz. What is it with the music, I wonder, before getting pulled back into the interesting story.
“Come on, piccolina, business is done. It’s time to go upstairs.” Tony is standing over me.
“Already? I’m almost done with this. Can I stay here?”
Shaking his head, a hand goes around my wrist and pulls me up to him. “No way in hell am I leaving you down here with my men. I don’t want to have to kill anyone for looking at you when I understand why they would. That reminds me, hold on.”
He pulls out his phone and makes a call. I sit back on the couch and go back to reading the book. I hear him say the name Carmine a couple of times before he ends the call. Shaking his head, he hangs up and puts his cell back in his pocket.
“What’s the matter?”
A sigh, “Joseph isn’t happy I gave him the order to kill Carmine.”
My stomach drops. “Is it because of what I did? I’m sorry.”
“No, this isn’t about what you did. It’s about what he did and didn’t do. I made it clear he was to protect and keep you secure. He didn’t do that and he left you bleeding and in pain. I’ve killed men for less over women who weren’t under my protection.”
I press my hand against my stomach that’s still twisting at the idea of someone dying because of me.
“Hey,” Tony tugs me up and into his arms. “I need to ensure every man who works for me follows instructions exactly. If I don’t it’s a weakness to me, the family business. It was about you but it wasn’t because of you. Do you understand?”
It wasn’t just talk, Tony protecting women. Sitting up there tied to the bed in pain for three hours wasn’t something Tony would have allowed any woman to go through. I nod.
“Good, come on.” His hand is at my back again as he guides me through the office and back up the stairs.
He introduces me to an older woman with greying blonde hair who tells me to call her Charlie, even though Tony introduces her as Charlotte. She’s nice and laughs a lot as she shows me around the bookstore. Tony goes behind a computer to review orders and open sales he’s considering buying from. Once the tour is over and I’m sitting in the office, a much smaller office that looks a whole lot like the one downstairs, Charlie offers me some tea which I happily take.
After I finish the biography, I go hunting for Tony. He’s in the used side of the bookstore looking for a book that’s been sold online and needs to be mailed out.
I’m barely twenty feet away when he turns. “Finished already?”
I nod. “It was good. I don’t normally like biographies, but he was a fascinating guy. Can I do anything to help?”
“Hm, not really. You can pick out another book if you want. There are a few things for me to do then we’ll go home. Dominic comes over. We eat, his breakfast, my lunch and discuss business.”
“Dominic?” I don’t know why I get scared. Why I take a step back from him.
“What’s the matter?” Tony reaches out, and both hands go around my arms.
“Your son, the man who would...you want me to meet him? Are you going to tell him what I tried—what happened?” Oh god, how embarrassing. I’m shaking and can’t stop.
“Hey, no.” Tony’s arms are around me holding me tight. His heat seeps into me. I cling to him. “Shh, don’t worry. I’m not going to tell Dominic. I haven’t told anyone, and I won’t.”
“No one?” I mumble, confused.
He stiffens as he sighs, his hand runs up and down my back. “No one. I would have told Vito and Joseph, but I figured since the plan was to leave you overdosed in your place, they didn’t need to know. There was no part for them to play in it.”
Hearing him lay it out all over again, how he was going to kill me, makes me weaker. His arms tighten around me in instant response. I want to push him away. What the hell am I doing seeking comfort from him when he was going to...? I sigh as it all comes back. All he was going to do was protect himself—from me. Seriously, where the hell had it gone? What happened for all the rage and pain to disappear as if it never even existed? That can’t be normal, can it?
“I’m sorry.” The words slip out of my tight throat. “This is all my fault, and I’m hiding behind you for what I made happen.”
Tony pulls back and looks down at me. A finger runs over my lower lip. “I told you, piccolina, you’re mine. You belong to me. It’s my responsibility now to take care of you and protect you from everyone—including yourself. No one will ever know.” Blue glitters to dark sapphire, and I shiver. He means it, every word. “Tell me, Christy. Who do you belong to?”
“You.” I don’t dare deny it. I don’t want to.
“That’s the only thing that matters from this day forward. Do you understand me? To my men, to my son, to everyone. You belong to me.”
I nod, my throat tight with an emotion I can’t name, but scares the hell out of me. Tony presses his lips to mine. “Go wait in the office for me while I finish up.”