Chapter 10
DANTE
C armela. I wish I could forget her, but that is easier said than done when navigating downtown traffic, my destination, her home and a meeting Ettore has called with me there.
It’s his home now, too. It’s an early wedding gift from Cedro, so I’ve learned. He’s already ordered parts of the garden to be ripped out and replaced with a new garage for his cars.
The thought of her being under the same roof as him at night is driving me insane. I keep hoping some random will take the asshole out. At least her sister is still with her for now. That will change after the wedding, being arranged with unsavory haste.
As I pull into the broad, circular driveway, I can already see changes. Different men are at the gate, and a digger is working on the foundations for the new garage.
Is this him rubbing my face in what I’ve lost? Or merely a future don settling into his new home and calling me to meet him there like his predecessor did many times?
I wish I could believe the latter, but the changes leave a bad taste in my mouth, one I’m having great difficulty washing out.
Her father is planning to give a speech at their wedding in which he will welcome Ettore as his son and officially announce his replacement as the don.
Everyone important already knows, but changes of this magnitude require a little pomp and ceremony.
It’s her birthday today. The date I finally allow myself to see her for what she is: a woman. Only she’s not my woman, is she? Nor will she ever be. I’ve been fucked over by Cedro, and Carmela is paying the price.
My father would turn in his grave to see how his plans for an empire are crumbling.
I slow to a stop and put the car in park, taking a moment. I’ve tried telling myself she’s nothing to me, just a woman I was supposed to marry. I should move on.
Only, she’s eighteen now. Ettore will get to put his hands on her one month from now.
Maybe sooner. I’m not sure I could keep my hands to myself were the circumstances reversed.
My fingers tighten over the steering wheel. I imagine it’s Ettore’s neck. Then I force it from my mind and channel my inner cold bastard before exiting the car.
Brigida greets me with a smile. She seems surprised to see me. Maybe confused…
Am I missing something? Why is there an itch between my shoulder blades?
“Ettore asked me over for a meeting.”
“Of course. Good to see you, Mr. Barone. I’ll show you to his study. Would you like a drink?”
His study…
“No drink, thank you.”
The study is just off the hall and looks exactly the same. It’s also missing a vital occupant. Where is Ettore?
Brigida shuts the door on me. Has he set up hidden cameras and this is a test to see if I touch his things?
That brings a fleeting smile to my lips.
I send a message to Christian.
Dante: Has Ettore put hidden cameras in his study?
The dots come almost immediately.
Chris: Study? You mean his office at the strip club? No, he’s fucking paranoid.
Dante: I mean his study in his new home… the one that used to be Cedro’s.
Chris: Nope. Still a paranoid asshole.
That makes me smile again.
I go to slip my cell in my pocket, but the dots are still coming.
Chris: He has me on Carmela watching duties, just in case she accidentally speaks to someone or has fun. I’ve been very popular with the girls at the club since I had the piercing, so I’m sure he’s only doing this to fuck with me.
Dante: Piercing? You’re afraid of needles.
Chris: Was. In my line of work, it’s a bad idea to have phobias. Figured getting my cock pierced was a good start. Got a full-sleeve tattoo in the making. Looks fucking amazing. Same guy Jero uses.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. That was more information than I needed… Then I scroll back to where he says he’s watching Carmela.
Dante: Where is Carmela?
Chris: At their house. Not left yet.
Dante: So am I.
Chris: wtf Ettore just left.
The fuck? He called me here for a meeting. What am I supposed to do, wait? Is this how it will be from now on, Ettore flexing his power, reminding me of my place?
Dickhead.
It’s hard for me to bow down to Ettore, but I’ve always been good at internalizing my feelings. I’ve given him nothing to latch onto as a slight since his betrothal to Carmela was announced. Maybe that’s why he’s invited me here today. I’m not giving him the reaction he craves.
When I glance down, I see another message from Christian.
Chris: He probably forgot. Sounded urgent when he left. Jero went with him… I’m sending her down.
Dante: Her?
I’m still waiting for my dickhead brother to answer when a knock sounds on the door.
I throw it open, expecting Christian.
Only it’s not my brother. It’s her.
“Christian said you wanted to speak to me?”
Fuck. She’s gorgeous.
Off the fucking charts.
She should have been mine.
It feels like I’m looking into her eyes for the first time. They seem to reach into my soul—deep blue. Looking into them creates a sensation of going under, of being ensnared by a woman so perfect that she is otherworldly in nature.
“I didn’t… My brother has a lot of issues. He has been known to do and say things for the mere joy of the fucking with someone’s day.”
Her face falls, and tears pool in her eyes.
This woman has recently lost her mother, and I’m acting like a dick.
Before I can second-guess myself, I’ve yanked her into the office, slammed the door, and pinned her against it.
She is wearing flat shoes and appears tiny as she gazes up at me, her eyes wide and brimming with emotion.
Why does that arouse me? Why do I like the power imbalance between us so much? That I am physically bigger and stronger, that she is innocent and at my mercy, for however fleeting this moment is.
That even putting my hands on her is forbidden adds a whole other dimension, one I very much enjoy.
Does that make me an asshole?
Probably.
Do I care?
No.
Only one way to find out if Christian is right about Ettore’s personal spaces not having hidden eyes. I’m going to do something ill-advised. Something I really shouldn’t. But I know I’m going to indulge my burgeoning obsession anyway.
Her tongue darts out to wet her lower lip.
Game over, sweetheart.
I lower my nose to her throat and breathe her scent in. “Tell me he hasn’t touched you.”
“H-he hasn’t touched me… No one has.”
“Good. Your first kiss is mine. If I have my way, your first everything will be mine, too.”
She is too fucking good for Ettore.
She is too good for me, too, yet here we are, and I can no longer deny myself a taste of her pretty, pink lips than I can deny myself my next breath.
CARMELA
He lifts his head from the crook of my shoulder, and his dark eyes search mine.
He’s overwhelming me. Like a tsunami bearing down on a lonely beach, his very presence is a force of nature, and I’m helpless before him.
Dante is going to kiss me; I know he is.
I should push him away. Do or say something to bring this to a stop.
Only I don’t want to.
I want his lips on mine, for him to be my first kiss—my first everything. Just as he said.
I want to fall into and under this man.
To let him sweep me away.
His hands move to cup my face, big, warm hands that feel impossibly good against my skin. I’m tingling all over, and my breathing is unsteady. An almost electric spasm lights up my center and a sweet, achy pleasure blooms in the wake.
Then his head lowers, and I forget how to breathe.
His lips touch mine.
I moan.
It’s too much and not nearly enough. He tightens his hands slightly, holding me immobile when I suffer an overwhelming urge to fidget. His tongue sweeps over my lower lip. I open. He slowly slants his lips over mine and his tongue tastes the inside.
My next moan is pure need. His scent fills my lungs, his big body caging mine against the door and creating a delicious sensation of being trapped and at his mercy.
I’m grateful he’s holding me still, taking away the worry about what I should do and how I should move to kiss him back. I surrender, feeling myself tumbling, letting him lead.
He deepens the kiss. My tongue sweeps against his, and, holy fuck, my stomach takes a slow tumble and my core spasms again.
His head lifts. His lips tantalizingly just out of reach.
My breathing sounds loud in the room, quiet otherwise but for the ticking of a clock.
He nips on my lower lip playfully, then releases it, leaving a throb that echoes in my pussy. Somewhere during the kiss, my hands have formed into fists. I force them to uncurl, lower them to my sides and press my palms against the door in an attempt to center myself.
Then he sinks to his knees. I blink down at him, confused, drinking in the way he manages to remain commanding even like this.
His hands are on the waist of my yoga pants.
“Dante?”
“Shut up and take it like a good girl.”
I snap my mouth shut, shocked, lit up, and trembling as he yanks them down to my knees, taking my panties with them. His mouth finds my lower stomach, his lips grazing the skin, kicking off a swarm of butterflies.
I’m exposed, his face inches from my heat, his strong hands yanking the yoga pants farther down. His lips trail lower until his nose is pressed right against my pussy, and his hands slide around to cup my ass, holding me still.
My mind goes blank to everything but the sweet quaking sensations. God, I’m getting so wet so fast it’s like I’m broken down there.
His right hand slides all the way down the back of my leg until it reaches where my yoga pants are gathered. My shoe is slipped off and tossed aside; my yoga pants ripped off that leg.
“Open.”
I don’t get a chance to process that when he hooks my right leg over his shoulder, buries his face in my pussy, and groans.
My fingers curl against the door as I fight the urge to sink them into his dark, glossy hair. “God!”
“Which part of shut up did you not understand?”
His words vibrate against me intimately.