A Bossy Secret - Chapter One
Dom
I t’s been thirty days since Arabella vanished like smoke after a night that still burns in my memory. Skin against skin, whispers in the dark, and then nothing but an empty space in my bed where she’d been.
I dial her number.
The phone feels heavy in my hand as it rings out once again. The same as it has been for one month. And once again, I reach her voicemail.
I hang up and dial again.
Some part of me knows I shouldn’t care. I’ve perfected the art of keeping my heart locked down tight. Built a fortress around it from the ruins of a love I’d once believed would last forever.
And one night with Arabella shouldn’t mean anything. It shouldn’t matter to me.
But something in the way she looked at me. In the way she moved. The ice queen went from the smart mouthed younger sister of my best friend to my dream.
And damn, she’s gotten under my skin.
The phone rings—then—silence.
I close my eyes, remembering her rushing away from the hotel the next morning. She was worried her brothers or her parents would find out.
I admit she also had to fly back to Colorado, the Omerta Academy, that same afternoon.
Still, she could’ve stayed a little longer.
I scrub my hand over my stubble jaw and groan.
I need to know if she is carrying my child.
Fuck! She could be pregnant.
I was fucking stupid. I should never have returned her flirting, but she was so hard to resist.
I adjust my bow tie, watching Arabella laugh at something West whispers in her ear. She’s stunning in her champagne bridesmaid dress. It drops off her shoulders and shows her creamy skin. As she dances, her platinum curls cascade down her back. But when she looks at me and smiles, I look away.
I can’t look at her like I do. West will kill me.
She moves toward me, graceful and confident. It’s like she knows exactly what makes me tick.
She slides into the seat next to me at the head table, her shoulder brushing mine as she inhales. “You smell nice, and you look hot in your tux.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Dimples.” I take a sip of whiskey, trying to ignore how good she smells.
“You know that you’re the only person who still calls me that.”
“Maybe I’m the only to still notice them.”
“And maybe I smile more for you.”
This is Arabella Davenport. Confident and sassy. Not afraid of anything. But that’s in front of an audience. I know her better than that. Behind her outgoing exterior is someone crying for attention.
“Dance with me later?” Her blue eyes sparkle with mischief.
“Careful. Your brother might not like that.”
She leans closer, her lips touching my ear. “You’re the best man, and I’m a bridesmaid. What won’t he like?”
Sloane Goldsmith appears, champagne glass in hand. “Dom, it’s been forever.” She places her hand on my arm, and Arabella tenses beside me.
“Sloane.” I nod, keeping it polite but distant.
“Save me a dance?” Sloane’s eyes drift to Arabella’s brother, East, across the room.
Arabella’s fingers curl around my wrist under the table. “Sorry, his dance card is full.”
Sloane’s perfectly plucked eyebrows rise. “Is that so?”
“Very full.” Arabella’s voice could freeze hell over. “Why don’t you stop trying to make my brother jealous and talk to him?”
“I’m not.” Sloane’s voice lifts as she glares at Arabella. Then she pushes out of her seat and storms off.
I turn to Arabella. “Was it you who was jealous?”
“Please.” She rolls her eyes, but her cheeks flush pink. “I just saved you from being used as East-bait.”
“My hero.” I lean closer, inhaling her perfume. “How will I ever repay you?”
She bites her lower lip, and my blood runs hot. “I’m sure we can think of something.”
“Something?”
“What do you suggest?” She flutters her long black eyelashes my way.
“You’re playing with fire, Dimples.”
Her fingers trace patterns on my thigh under the tablecloth. “Maybe I enjoy being burned.”
“Maybe I enjoy being burned,” I say to myself as I retrieve my cell from underneath the window.
I should have stopped it there and then, not pursued her afterward. I should never have invited her to my hotel room for a drink.
I should never have touched her.
I stare out my penthouse window as the Manhattan skyline transforms. Neon signs flicker to life while taxis crawl like yellow beetles far below. The streets fill with people going about their day.
My fingers drum against the glass.
If Arabella is pregnant...fuck. West will kill me. Twenty-two years of friendship destroyed because I couldn’t keep my hands off his sister.
“I’ll kill the man who hurts my little sister.” West’s voice echoes in my head. I can picture his face twisting from confusion to hurt to rage if he finds out I fucked her.
I take a swig straight from the whiskey bottle. The amber liquid burns, but I haven’t had enough to chase away the memory of Arabella’s body beneath me.
Her soft skin.
Her eyes as I fucked her.
And her open mouth as she came.
I bang my forehead against the cool glass.
West and I have been through everything together. He isn’t just my best friend. He’s my brother in everything but blood. The person who showed up at my door with a bottle of whiskey when Annika left me.
He pulled me back from the edge when I was ready to throw everything away.
He was the one who helped Sam through the darkest part of his life.
And the one who looks after everyone else.
He stood by me through the darkest period of my life, and this is how I repay him? By sleeping with his sister at his own wedding?
“She’s off limits,” he told me, when he caught me watching Arabella at his and Amelia’s engagement party a few months before. “I mean it, Dom.”
I agreed then. Meant it, even. But that was before she made it clear she wanted me. Before she became this force of nature that stormed through my meticulously constructed walls like they were made of paper.
And then I…
My phone buzzes. For a split second, my heart stops.
But it’s not Ari.
I squeeze the phone—it’s just my brother, Dante.
He is probably wondering where the fuck I am.
I should be at the club working, not in my apartment trying to contact Arabella once again.
The city lights blur together as I press my forehead against the cool glass and think.
I can still feel her beneath me, her body trembling as I thrust into her. Now, every time I think about Arabella, I’m reminded of that night. Of the way she felt, the way she tasted in my mouth, the way she made herself mine.
She was a virgin, but she didn’t tell me until it was too late. Until I was coming over her pussy and saw my cum mixed with her blood.
It sent me feral. I plunged back inside her, fucking her, feeling her body convulsing beneath me. Each thrust pushing her closer to the edge.
And then she came, screaming my name.
The second time I come, I filled her with my seed.
Fuck!
The memory is still so vivid, so raw. It’s like it happened yesterday instead of a month ago. I can still feel the heat of her body against mine, the way she clung to me as we both reached our peak. The way her mouth parted and the way her eyes looked deep into my soul.
It was a night neither of us would ever forget, a night that changed everything between us.
She drives me wild. Wilder than I’ve felt in years.
And so much different from how I felt with Annika.
And if she’s pregnant...
A part of me wants her to be, but fuck, I’ll have to tell my best friend. Look him in the eye and admit I betrayed his trust.
With shaky hands, I type out a message to her.
Dom: We need to talk.
I pour myself another drink, draining the whiskey bottle, and set it down as I watch my reflection in the window. I look like shit. Haven’t slept properly since that night.
An incoming call lights up my phone. My hands shake as I reach for it.
Unknown number.
It’s not Ari.
I pinch the bridge of my nose as I think about the private jet that sits ready at Teterboro Airport. One call and I could be in Colorado within hours, confronting Arabella at the Academy gates.
But she’s finishing her degree. Her future matters more than my selfish need for answers. More than this ache in my chest that won’t go away.
The whiskey burns my throat as I take another swallow.
It doesn’t help.
Nothing helps except the thought of her. And that’s the problem. But I got over Annika. Buried those feelings so deep they can’t touch me anymore. I can do the same with Arabella.
I have to. She’s over ten years younger than me. Worse, she is my best friend’s sister.
Arabella Davenport is off limits in every way that matters.
But if she’s pregnant...
Christ . I’ll have to face West. Watch his face crumple as I tell him I fucked his baby sister at his own wedding. And knocked her up.
And if she’s not?
I close my eyes, but all I see are platinum curls spread across my pillow. Her pale skin flushed pink, and those blue eyes, dark with desire.
I should let her go.
Let her finish school, find someone her own age. Someone who hasn’t seen the darkness I have. Someone who deserves her.
But the memory of her beneath me, the way she whispered my name like a prayer...it haunts me. Makes me want things I have no right to want.
I press my palm flat against the glass, watching the city stretch out below.
Yet, all l I can think about is a small campus in Colorado where Arabella is right now and perhaps carrying my child.
My phone rings again, and I nearly drop it in my haste to answer. My heart pounds against my ribs as I fumble with the screen.
“Arabella?”
“Is this Mr. Russo? Dominic Russo?” A woman’s clinical voice cuts through my hope.
My stomach drops. “Yes, this is—wait, is this about Arabella? Is she hurt?” The words tumble out before I can stop them, panic clawing at my throat.
“No, sir. I’m calling from Mount Sinai Hospital. I’m Nurse Mateas.”
My relief that it’s not about Arabella transforms into a new dread. When a hospital calls at this hour, it never brings the best news.
“Your brother Dante Russo, his wife Marissa, and their daughter Luna have been involved in a serious car accident.”
The whiskey glass slips from my hand, shattering on the floor. The sound seems to come from very far away.
“Mr. Russo? Are you there?”
I sink onto the couch, head in my hands. “How—” My voice cracks. I clear my throat and try again. “How bad?”
“You need to come to the hospital urgently. The situation is critical.”
My world tilts sideways.
Dante. My big brother. The one who taught me everything I know. The good, the bad, the legal and not so.
And Marissa, the girl who won his hard heart. The woman who makes the best cheesecake and always has a smile for everyone.
I slam my hand on my heart, and hope my brother, his wife, and their six-week-old baby girl are okay.
I grab my wallet and phone, gingerly stepping over the broken glass. “I’ll be there in less than thirty minutes.”
“Please hurry, Mr. Russo. The doctors are doing everything they can, but...” She pauses, and in that pause, I hear everything she’s not saying.
“I’m on my way.” I disconnect.
I’m already moving, grabbing my keys, not bothering with a jacket. The elevator seems to crawl, each second stretching into eternity as I call West.
He answers with a cheery as fuck. “Hey.”
“West...” My voice cracks. The room spins as I wait for the elevator to get to my level—how much whiskey did I drink? I clear my throat. “Dante and Marissa were in an accident. Luna too. It’s bad. They’re at Mount Sinai.”
“Fuck.” The cheer drops from his voice. “How bad?”
“The nurse...she wouldn’t say much, but...” I run my hand through my hair, pacing. “They want me there now.”
“Have you been drinking?” He already knows the answer. West knows me too well.
“Can you send your driver?”
He grunts. “Stay put. I’m coming to get you.”
“I can call a cab—”
“No. I’ve already got the keys.” I hear rustling in the background. “Five minutes.”
The line goes dead before I can protest.
West. He’s always there for me. Showing up. Never questioning, just acting. The same way he did when Annika left. The same way he’s done since we were kids.
And here I am, fantasizing about his little sister. Hoping she’s carrying my child.
The elevator doors open. I step inside and press my head against the wall. What kind of friend am I?
The image of Arabella’s smile flashes through my mind, but I push it away.
I can’t think about her now. Can’t let myself want her. Not when West is dropping everything to help me. Not when my actual brother might be...
I can’t finish that thought.
My phone buzzes with West’s text.
Outside the main doors.
The elevator ride down is a blur.
West stands by his Aston Martin, face grim.
He says nothing as I reach him, just pulls me into a quick, hard hug before opening the passenger door.
I don’t deserve a friend like him.
And I unquestionably don’t deserve his sister.